#*happy sigh* i miss this particular charm from recent cases

[akai-anna]

today i reached the miraculous midair walk case. and just. kaito's smug face. SHINICHI'S SMUG FACE. THE MAGICAL FEEL OF IT. THE WHOLE PART WHERE THEY ARE TAlkING ON JIROKICHI'S BIKE. you don't understand how much i love this case.

also the pure bastard energy. the whole talk about the sky and ocean and reflections. DREAMS. both of them just being so comfortable and themselves around one another? and then BASTARD ENERGY INTENSIFYING AS KAITO SENDS SHINICHI CAREENING IN THE SIDECAR. SHINICHI SETTING FIRE TO THE LEAKING FUEL. PURE FCKIN BASTARD ENERGY, I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR. seeing kaito's panic. shinichi talking about his dream as he looks at ran...

uuurgh my heart, your honour, i love this case.

[moonstruck-poet]

His Goodluck Charm

Pairing - Kim Namjoon x wife!reader

Summary - It'll soon be Namjoon's performance but you had been travelling and were not present during the start.

Warnings - none

"Where are you?" His slightly longing voice was heard through the phone.

"I'm coming, Joon," you sighed, keeping your eyes on the road after putting the device on speaker. "I promised didn't I?"

"I know you did.. But the show's about to start soon enough".

"I know, I know," you muttered and internally cursed at the long line of cars visible from a distance. "I'll try to be there as quick as possible".

He was silent, but you understood anyways. This show in particular meant a lot, both to his fans and him, and you knew that. That was the exact reason why you had applied to go home two days earlier than your schedule and your company had graciously agreed.

"Love," you said, consoling gently. "I'm gonna be there. Maybe not at the start but I'll be there till the end. Just perform your heart out, yeah? Do what you do best".

He exhaled, "Okay," he said after a pause. "I just- I missed you a lot. I wanted you backstage before the show".

He was of course extremely happy that you were coming, never taking it for granted. But a part of him would've loved it even more if he would have received your best wishes before his performace. You were definitely his lucky charm. He felt a different kind of pressure and stress today and wanted nothing more than your warm embrace.

Your heart cracked at the sadness in his voice. If you could've teleported to any place, you would've done so in a heartbeat. But unfortunately the streets of Seoul were not helping your case.

"Namjoon, hey listen to me," you said firmly. "You are going to give the best performance right now. I know you will and remember that I'm always gonna be there, cheering you on. I'll just be some time late".

"Yeah I understand, it's fine. I'm sorry, I'm just a bit overwhelmed," he replied. "Take your time, don't rush. I would prefer it much more for you to be safe".

You nodded though he couldn't see it and felt relieved at seeing the traffic clearing swiftly.

"I have to go now," he interrupted your thoughts. "Drive slowly, please. I love you," his tone became tender naturally.

"I love you too," you whispered with a smile. "Now go little rockstar".

He laughed softly and gave you one last loving endearment before hanging up.

===============================

Namjoon was feeling the adrenaline rush to the maximum as he had just finished singing 'Persona'. He removed his earpieces and felt a smile gracing his face after listening to the constant chants of his name.

He raised in hands up in the air in appreciation and the audience's response was heightened by the action making him chuckle warmly.

Unknowingly his eyes flitted to the backstage, wandering fractically to scan the area. But the previous twitch of his lips slowly evaporated, leaving behind a tight-lipped smile at seeing the usual crew rushing around behind the curtains with absolutely no sign of you.

He swallowed, face contorting a little because dammnit did he want you here right now. The next song he was about to sing was your recent favorites. One that had brought literal tears to your eyes when you'd first heard the final recording.

He sighed, accepting the fact that you would miss that too and took a minute to gather himself for his next track. After a sign from him, the song started, making the crowd burst into a huge round of cheers and he smiled, thoughts of you taking the space at the very back of his mind.

'Flower field that's where I'm at, open land that's where I'm at. No name that's what I have, no shame I'm on my grave'.

He started singing, all of his worries dissipating as music took control of his body. He closed his eyes and moved his arms to the beat naturally.

He walked around the stage, sweeping his gaze over the crowd who were vibing their army bombs perfectly. He interacted with them through his gestures and got a small jump in his steps as the chorus neared.

And as though his love story was a remake of some fairytale, his eyes found yours at the exact moment Youjeen's smooth, powerful vocals filled the arena.

He was grateful that it wasn't his part or he'd have been speechless. His slow dancing came to an abrupt halt as he simply stood there, right in the middle of the stage with a strange ringing in his ears.

The whole world faded away slowly, the audience growing dimmer thereby increasing your spotlight in his gaze with the song's vocals as the perfect background track. He just stared, unable to believe that you actually were present before flashing that endearing, dimpled smile of his.

You smiled back radiantly, swaying your body to the rhythm of the music and blowing him a kiss that made his grin stretch. But then your eyes widened and he seemed confused at first before realising that he was in the midst of a literal performance, not in the middle of some kind of an amazing daydream.

He just gave you a subtle kiss which was a hundred percent visible to his fandom that consisted of talented detectives. Not a single thing could ever escape their keen eyes.

He resumed his rapping, finding a new excitement which was audible in his flow. He moved around energetically, his gaze wandering and somehow always finding their way to yours.

For a moment he seemed to forget the thought that today could very well be his last performance before his enlistment. All that seemed to occupy his mind currently were his fans, the music, and of course, you.

And slowly but surely the song came to an end, making the stadium erupt in an ear-splitting applause.

The love everybody had for Kim Namjoon was defeaning, you thought to yourself and looked around at all the happy faces. Feeling so proud that your man was the reason for all those delicate and precious smiles.

You continued watching his ending speech, your eyes displaying everything you felt. With one last bow towards the audience that was his entire world, he waved and exited with another round of cheers.

The place started to empty and you didn't waste another moment to go back stage, the staff recognizing you immediately and offering you bright grins as they directed you towards your husband who was freshening up from the tiring show.

You leaned against the doorframe of his changing room, just admiring him as he did a simple activity of washing his face.

"You did brilliantly, my love," you whispered as he was wiping his cheeks and he whipped around at an alarming speed.

The towel dropped from his hands as he took long strides towards you, wasting not even a second before engulfing your body securely in his arms. He exhaled heavily and tightened his hold, his heart breating erratically as it had found its partner after quite a long time.

"You're here," he whispered onto your skin, lips brushing the top of your ear delicately.

"Of course I am, wouldn't miss it for the world. You already know that," you smiled and rubbed his back, relishing in the feeling of being so close to him.

"I don't think I've ever missed you so much before," he commented earning a soft laugh from you.

Namjoon made no move to pull away and neither did you, wanting him to stay for as long as he needs.

He finally pulled back and sighed as his eyes landed on yours, scanning every small inch of your face to halt on your lips. And he leaned forward, hands moving to cup your cheeks possessively as he kisses you with a fiery passion. Lighting up every one of your senses until they burned with love.

"Woah," you murmured after he pulled back, a red hue fully coating your cheeks as you stared, starstruck. "If that's what I get for being away for a week.. maybe I should go out quite frequently".

He rolled his eyes, chuckling, "You wouldn't dare to do that".

"Sure I won't".

He narrowed his eyes playfully before sneakily wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest as he gazed intensely at you.

"What are you d-" your breath hitched as he bit his lip and was extremely close.

He held the eye contact for what seemed like an eternity, not at all making a move and nearly killing you at the lack of action. Abruptly though he tore apart, successfully breaking the tension.

A frown was unintentionally drawn on your lips while you watched your man laugh hyaterically, tears almost on the verge of spilling as he covered his face, his shoulders shaking as he cackled.

"You are so mean and for what?" You groaned and slumped on the couch. "I hate you".

"Sure you do," he repeated your earlier words back to you.

Another huff slipped past your lips as you turned towards him, preparing for giving him a very beautiful speech when you were interrupted. Again.

This time by your husband launching himself onto you, kissing you with a huge smile that made it a little difficult to continue your shenanigans properly.

You were once again left breathless when he moved back and blinked, gathering whatever coherent thought there was present in your brain to glare at him.

Meanwhile he grinned that iconic twitch of his, dimples on full display and god he looked so handsome that you couldn't help but smile yourself.

===============================

[soldouthaz]

hey all!  it’s nearly the end of the year now and it’s time to finish the list of my favorite 2020 fics! (you can find part i of this rec here !) I can’t thank these authors and anyone else who published things this year enough. it’s been many long months where a distraction was much needed, and we got such amazing content for FREE. being able to escape into another world for even just a few minutes right now is priceless. 

to everyone who wrote something, read something, or simply made it through this year, kudos to you! wishing everyone a much more relaxing 2021 with even more amazing fics to come. :)  thank you guys for everything – happy holidays & new year, and happy reading!  

there were so many good ones out this year and there’s no way I can include all of them, but I enjoyed so many more than just the ones on this list! the ones I picked just stood out to me for some reason based on how I was feeling or what I was going through at the time, and they all helped me in some way or another. :) not to mention, I am sooo behind on recent fics and most of the blff, so I will be making more recs slowly into the new year as well!  

quick disclaimer! as with every time I put these together, this list is based on my own opinions and features a variety of different kinds of fics and tropes. I include the info next to them for a reason! please stick to your own preferences and leave any hate out of your choices. that being said, if you enjoy any of these, please leave the author a kudos, comment, or send them a message to let them know you liked it!  

okay, in no particular order!:  

a place with skeletons by @crazyupsetter / whoknows 
 E | 50k | b!L | veela!Louis 

“I would choose anyone other than you,” Louis says, picking up his train of thought again. He feels a lot more cornered and defensive when they’re in Harry’s house, for some reason. 

It doesn’t really make sense, considering that this time, Louis was the one who couldn’t hack it any longer. He broke first. There’s something about being in Harry’s space, though, the green and earthy feeling of it. It should feel like open space with all the plants, but Louis has never felt more claustrophobic than he does when he’s here. Harry’s chest moves against his back, a sharp intake of air. 

Before he can open his mouth to defend himself, Louis keeps going, “If I had a choice in any of this, I would have been saved by that elderly security guard over you. I wouldn’t mind having to have the occasional cuddle with her.” 

even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight
 E | 25k | b!L | uni au  

Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job. 

runaway darling by @solvetheminourdreams 
E | 26k | no smut | wedding au  

An AU where Louis hates weddings, Harry loves them, and together they help a bride skip hers. 

three days in february by @mercurial-madhouse / writing_practice 
 E | 187k | b!L | magical realism  

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind. 

a springtime’s wilt, an autumn’s bloom by snowcaplou  E | 20k | b!L | abo 

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

just a flicker in the dark by @falsegoodnight 
 E | 57k | b!L | witch!Louis 

Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles. 

terror of surrender by @loubellies 
E | 31k | b!L | yoga instructor!H  

Louis is a recent divorcee with a new favorite yoga teacher, Harry. 

loving you’s a bloodsport by @rosesau
 M | 106k | no graphic smut | royalty au  

harry is a bratty prince, louis is a guard who works in his palace, and niall is the only one who’s got his life in control. 

spoonful of sugar by @zanniscaramouche (check out this part too!)  
E | 43k | b!L | mob boss!Harry  

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles. 

quiet people have the loudest minds by @2tiedships2
 M | 38k | referenced b!L | abo 

The one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry. 

works like a charm by @falsegoodnight 
E | 18k | b!L | Hogwarts au  

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone. 

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.  

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts. 

Three: They do not get along.  

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git. 

show you the stars in the daylight by @yvesaintlourent / bruisedhoney 
E | 13k | b!L | friends to lovers  

The one where Louis has a type and at sixteen and scrawy, it’s definitely not his best friend’s little brother Harry…ten years later, he changes his mind. 

in a sea of mist by @tomlinvelvetfics 
E | 126k | b!L | mythology au  

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs. 

confessions of a fabricated alpha by @jaerie 
E | 18k | b!H/b!L mention | abo  

famous alpha Harry Styles has a secret and paying an alpha to roleplay a relationship with him over the phone is the only way he can be himself. 

take my whole life too by @goodmorninglou
  E | 24k | b!L | d/s elements | WIP

Louis knows three things, at the base of it all. 

He likes when Harry hurts him. He doesn’t know why, not really, but he knows that he likes it. Likes giving up control, likes feeling small and taken care of, likes being praised for taking whatever Harry gives him for as long as he gives it. He and Harry are meant to be. No matter what time they finally fall together, what day, what age, what place, the moment that they do, that’ll be it. It’s going to be them against everyone else, hand in hand for the rest of their lives. That’s been a given since they met. The half of Louis’ soul that’s missing is Harry’s. 

And, sans those two things, he doesn’t really know much of anything at all. 

sweet like honey by @falsegoodnight  
E | 33k | b!L | amateur porn au  

Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal. 

a few rereads posted from before this year that I enjoyed again!  

the case of the (definitely not haunted) styles mansion by briamaria  
E | 40k | b!H | nancy drew au  

the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted. 

canyon moon by @eeveelou  
E | 40k | b!L | abo  

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.  Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.  

An A/B/O Lion King AU 

lemon eyes by @turnyourankle  
E | 50k | b!H | abo  

It’s not proper for omegas to mess around with alphas before finding their bondmate. But Harry doesn’t give a damn what’s proper and fully intends on getting as much experience as he can before even trying to find one. As far as he’s concerned, the right alpha won’t care, and he’ll have some fun on the way.  And who better to start with than Louis Tomlinson, the alpha with the worst reputation on campus? 

all this delusion in our heads by snowcaplou 
 E | 15k | b!L | exes to lovers  

After Harry and Louis break up, they cope with it in very different ways. What will happen when Harry keeps calling his ex over when things go wrong in his life, but Louis just can’t take it anymore? 

the way the storms blow by @rbbsbb  
E | 21k | b!L | roommates au  

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick. 

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. 

Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.  Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.  

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea. 

and a few more recs from some other fandoms for anyone who might be interested! (feel free to rec me some more if you know of any!)  

burning the ground by lq_traintracks (drarry)  
E | 10k | b!draco | abo 

“Strap him down,” someone said, and Harry felt the rage thicken inside him – the viscous fear. Magical bindings pulled taut around his wrists … He felt a wand touch his arm and then a sharp bite as something punctured the skin, and a sweet, cool tonic rushed his veins. His breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped. The ceiling went grey and dark. And then he heard a woman’s voice sigh, “Someone, get Healer Malfoy.” 

every step you take by nokomis (sterek) 
 E | 50k | light b!Stiles | abo  

Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super. 

+

alright, I think that’s it for this rec! as always, please let me know if i’ve tagged anything incorrectly or if you’d like to be untagged from something!  

and like I said before, I am wayyy behind on reading for these last few months and I need to catch up. when I do, I’ll definitely make some more recs into the new year! 

I just want to say another thank you to anyone who wrote or read or created or just existed this year. it’s been hard on us all but having this outlet definitely made it easier. I can’t wait to see what else is published next year! happy reading everyone, and happy new year! :)

[froggywhumpy]

Missing Person

- - -

Hi all!! I hope you’re ready for a very sad chapter (or at least, I hope this managed to seem sad)! This one’s from Jason’s perspective, as he looks for his lost friend :(

- - -

Tagging: @milk-carton-whump @whatwasmyprevioususername @myst-in-the-mirror @happy-whumper @abitefullofwhump @starnight-whump @cowboy-anon

- - -

CW: emotional manipulation, missing person, implied past self-harm

- - -

Ever since Jason became friends with Ezra, he had taken it upon himself to look out for Ez.

Jason knew he didn’t really have many other friends. They met in their senior year in high school, where Ezra was a quiet kid, and he kept to himself. Occasionally he was picked on by bigger kids for being more of a social outcast, but since Jason was a stronger kid- he played on the high school football team- he kept an eye on Ezra and told his bullies to knock it off whenever they were at it.

Over the years, Jason had sort of adopted Ezra into his friend group. One of the people in Jason’s friend group being Drew, who Jason noticed took a particular liking for Ezra. Jason watched as the two started dating. He was there for Ezra when the two broke up a couple years later.

He took care of Ezra when he learned of his self-destructive tendencies years earlier. He was doing better in recent times, but he was still worried about him, which is why Jason made Ezra promise that he could swing by in the mornings before he went to class, just to check on him.

When Jason knocked at Ezra’s apartment door the night after Ezra made plans to meet up and talk things out with Drew, and received no answer, he wasn’t particularly worried. The kid probably just slept in. Maybe he had a late night, he thought, pulling out his phone to dial his number.

The phone rang for some time before Jase was sent to a familiar voicemail; ‘Hi, this is Ezra, if I know you, leave a message, and I’ll probably call you back soon. Okay, bye!’

Jason sighed, hanging up before he could leave a message. He texted Ezra a few times, waiting outside the door. He had to get going soon if he wanted to make it in time for his class. He shrugged, glancing at his clock. He could probably spare ten more minutes.

Ten minutes later, none of his texts had been read and he never got a call back. Jason frowned, calling again. Again, he was sent straight to voicemail. He stared at the ticking hand of the clock on his wristwatch- now he was starting to push it. He could probably stay for five more minutes.

Five minutes, six more calls, and many, many worried texts later, Ezra was still radio silent. This was completely unlike him, Jason thought. He never ignored him, and he rarely slept in. Something was wrong.

Jason walked back outside to his car, racking his brain for where Ezra could be. Eventually, he came up with a short list: He could’ve stayed the night at Drew’s, he maybe was at his work, and, worst case scenario he had run away or hurt himself or something awful. Starting his car, Jason turned on some music to try and distract himself from Ezra’s disappearance, as he began to drive to Drew’s house.

- - -

Twenty minutes later, Jason was on Drew’s doorstep. Raising his fist, Jase knocked on the door. He waited a minute for a response, before bringing his fist down on the door, knocking again.

He paused for a minute. There was a complete silence from within the house- before Jason could’ve sworn he heard a scream. Oh, gods, was that Ezra?!

“Drew, are you home? Is that Ezra?” Jason yelled, his fear for Ezra’s safety growing with each passing moment.

The house fell quiet, before Jason heard the nearly silent sound of footsteps approaching the entryway. Jason watched with worried eyes as the door open, only to be met with not Ezra’s face, but Drew’s.

“Hi, Jason!” Drew smiled. Drew always had been incredibly charming, ever since Jason met him, and this was a smile Jase had seen him use a hundred times on other people in order to get what he wanted. “Do you need something?”

“Um, yeah.” Jason smiled a little, trying not to be overly suspicious of the situation. Drew was his friend, still. “I was wondering if Ezra was there? He said he was going to meet you someplace last night and he’s not home or responding to my texts or calls..”

“No,” Drew thought for a minute. “I haven’t seen or heard from him since last night. That’s weird. Maybe you should check his work, see if he’s there.”

“I thought I heard him yelling.” Jason cut to the chase, his tone unyielding.

“You probably just imagined it.” Drew shrugged, his voice equally stern.

“Maybe.” Jason sighed, peaking around Drew to see the inside of the foyer. “Can I just check inside real quick? I’m just worried.”

“I’m telling you, he’s not here.” Drew sighed defeatedly. “How about this, if he’s not at his work or any of our other friends houses, then you can poke around my house. Deal?”

Jason had come to know a lot of things since high school, and he knew Drew. As Jason knew him, Drew was cunning, but honest. There was no winning when he was like this. Drew was a lot of things but.. he wasn’t a kidnapper, or at least Jason didn’t believe he was. “Yeah, alright, sorry to bother you.”

“It’s alright, I understand you’re worried. Text me when you find him, okay?” Drew grinned, beginning to close the door.

“I will.” Jason sighed, watching now as the door closed. With one last sparing glance at the house, Jase got in his car and drove away.

- - -

Jason had no luck finding Ezra at his work, or at his friends house, or at any nearby businesses and restaurants.

Jason was about to give up and go to the police when his phone began to ring. Glancing at the phone’s surface and seeing Drew’s name, Jason picked up.

“Hey, Drew?”

“Hey! Listen, I didn’t tell you this morning because it totally escaped my mind, but I’m gonna be at a family member’s house for at least the weekend. Family emergency. Have you found Ez?”

Jason frowned. “No, I.. haven’t.”

“He’s gonna turn up eventually, Jase, don’t worry. Hey, if you still wanna poke around my house, there’s a spare key under the doormat.”

“Alright.” Jason ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, I’m sorry for accusing you like that earlier. I don’t-“ he sighed. “I was just worried.”

“No, no, it’s fine! Don’t worry about it, seriously Jason. It’s completely fine.”

“Thanks, Drew, I’ll let you know if I find him.” Jason sniffed. Shit, he really didn’t want to start crying. Not now, not when Ez was missing.

“When, not if. When you find him. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jason couldn’t even choke out a goodbye before the tears really started to come. God, he was so, so scared for Ezra.

[ariddletobesolved]

Friends Before Lovers

Pairing: Hans x Elsa

Fandom: Frozen

Rating: G

Note: Okay, after that major writing block, I finally write again, thanks to @ravinewreyn recent arts. Your arts did things to me. Also, sorry if this is too cheesy, it was unintentional xD I just wanna let it out of my system. Enjoy!

Helsa in Hogwarts AU (Told from 3rd POV Hans perspective)

He found her standing on that particular spot in the Astronomy Tower, with her eyes closed and her folded arms leaning against the railing. Her blonde hair, styled in a messy french braid, swayed along with the breeze, and her lips curved into a small smile. He knew he should be moving along, leaving her alone with the moon and the stars in the sky, and continuing his nightly patrol. But he wanted to talk to her, to apologise, to confess, and oh, that smile, which he rarely saw, was enough to petrify him on the spot. 

Surely, it was not the first time she made him feel that way.

The corner of his lips tugged upwards, his gaze softened when the girl finally opened her eyes then grinned to herself. What is she thinking about? He could only wonder and not ask. Perhaps she was thinking about building a snowman with Anna, her little sister (he knew it would bring her joy), or it could be about the dungbomb prank one of their classmates pulled during Transfiguration class earlier that day. Whatever it was, it must be a happy thought—one that didn’t concern him. His brows knitted at that thought. Of course it didn’t, he only brought a scowl on her face whenever they ran into each other. But the thought was quickly forgotten by the time she pulled out her wand from her black robe. So, she has yet to retire.

“Expecto patronum!” Her voice was clear, with a hint of happiness, as she conjured a white light that slowly turned in a form of a horse—no, a mare. Her patronus.

The mare danced in the air, before it slowly moved around her, making the blonde girl grin in amusement, eyes following the dancing lights. Realising that he could be seen any moment now, he quickly took a step back, making a creaking sound as he stepped on the wooden floor. The patronus dissolved into thin air, as her attention was now focused on where he stood.

“Who is there?”

Knowing that it was no use in hiding, he stepped into the light. His green eyes, bearing an unspoken apology, tried to search for her blue ones in the minimum lighting. He came to approach her, and with every step he took, the room grew colder. Perhaps it was the autumn night breeze that greeted him.

“Westergaard.” She spoke his family name in distaste, pushing herself from the railing. “What are you doing here?”

He was about to reply when the blonde shook her head. “Oh, forget I asked you a question! I shall take my leave.”

But before she could walk away, he quickly caught her arm, stopping her on the track. “Not so fast, Arrington!” He said with a hint of smirk. “You do realise that I can take some points from Ravenclaw, right?”

He watched her closely, waiting for her usual “Sod off, Westergaard!” to roll out of her mouth, along with that famous scowl. Much to his surprise, the blonde let out a sigh and looked away.

“Do what you want! I don’t care.”

His gaze softened, and a brow raised in confusion. Seeing Elsa Arrington acting that way towards him was unusual, and having known her ever since they were little, he knew something was wrong. Did something happen at home?

“Elsa?” 

She slowly looked up, staring at him with her big blue eyes. There was a hint of surprise at the sudden change of tone, and the moment their eyes met, he felt like letting his guard down completely. 

“Look, Hans, I’m not in the mood for a banter.” Elsa muttered. “I came here to enjoy the view, and to escape from,” she paused to bite her lower lip, before continuing, “nevermind, it’s none of your business, anyway. Now please, let me go.”

His grip loosened up, but Hans didn’t let go. Instead, he took a step closer. The close proximity allowed him to breathe in her signature scent, which had been haunting him ever since the first Potions class at the beginning of the term. The moment he stepped into the classroom with a strong scent of new parchments, dark chocolate, and vanilla in the air, he came into a realisation. Hans was no fool. He knew which potion that smelled like that.

“Sorry,” he gently murmured, after he realised that he had been staring. Letting go of her arm, he added, “You may stay if you want.”

“Do I even need your permission?” Her comeback did surprise him, but her friendly tone—was that friendly?—caught him off guard. Salazar, it has been years since the last time she used that tone.

“Of course not.” Hans scoffed, but he managed to end the sentence with a small smile.

Looking down with a smile, Elsa made her way towards the balcony, strutting as if she was certain that he would follow, which he did. Stopping at a respectful distance, Hans turned to her. The blonde had her gaze focused up above, and he mirrored her.

“Can you see it?” She asked, without breaking her gaze.

“See what?” Was all his clueless reply.

Elsa grinned, before moving closer to him. “Cassiopeia.”

His green eyes scanned for the constellation, but to have her this close, it was impossible for him to focus.

“There!”

She pulled his robe so his head was next to hers, before pointing her finger up, connecting the stars to form the letter 'W'. Hans knew that it was probably her enthusiasm that brought the gesture, but he couldn't help his quickened pulse.

“Oh.”

Shortly after, Elsa let go of him, keeping her hands close to her chest. The gesture reminded him of when they were little, how she often kept her guard up, not wanting to let people in. And he frowned, realising how distant they had become.

“Sorry,” she let out. “I,” she was hesitating, “nevermind. In case you haven’t noticed, the view is always beautiful from up here.” Her smile lingered on.

It was indeed a clear night, with millions of stars dusting the dark autumn sky. The view from the tallest tower in Hogwarts was breathtaking, but nothing could stun him the way Elsa Arrington did just by smiling. Yes, she could be the embodiment of the full body-bind charm.

“Beautiful.”

Hans didn't take his eyes off her, even when Elsa turned to face him. Guilt consumed him from within. He felt so stupid for not realising things sooner. His ambition to prove himself that he could be the best in everything had blinded him, and as the time passed it cost him a friendship. Their friendship.

“Elsa,” he began.

“Save it.” She looked away. “I don't want to hear it.”

“I'm sorry, please hear me out.” His hand was itching to hold hers, but Hans knew, touching her would probably not be the best move. “I am so sorry that it took years for me to apologise. I should've never cast you aside just like that.”

She scoffed. “I don't know what changed you, Hans. For all I know, this could be another trick you try to pull. It won't change anything.”

Her guard was up, he knew that for sure, but for whatever reason?

“I wanted my best friend, but you, you wanted a rival.” She was facing him now, her icy blue eyes glared at him with sadness and hurt. “I thought I,” there was a pause, enough to make him grow tense.

“You what?”

Elsa took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, as if her mind needed a taming. Seeing the state she was in took him back to the Sacred Seven Christmas banquet he used to attend in Aren Hall, the Arringtons' residence. With many people in the room, she could get overwhelmed, and he would ask her to sneak out and do a stargazing to calm her raging mind. So he did what he thought would help her.  He wouldn’t hold back.

His arms gently pulled her trembling form into his chest, his chin rested on her shoulder. Rocking her back gently, Hans murmured some words of apology, repeating them with sincerity. It didn't take long until she eventually calmed down. And much to his surprise, she wounded her arms around his torso, hugging him back.

“Elsa?”

“I've missed you, Hans.” The way she said those words pained him, but he knew he deserved it, for she had it worse than him. But she also gave him hope, a second chance. “So very much. I thought you'd never say that.”

Pulling back without letting go of each other, Hans placed his finger under her chin. He caught her gaze upon his lips, and although it was only briefly, he knew better than to close the gap between them.

“I feel so, so stupid, Elsa. I was wrong and selfish, but I am willing to make it right, if you give me the chance.”

When he moved to cup her cheek, Elsa leaned into his touch. Warmth spread on his chest upon the gesture.

“Hans,” she grabbed his hands and clasped them in hers. “I'll give you the chance if you do me a favour.”

“What is it?”

With a smirk, the blonde replied, “Let Ravenclaw win the house cup. I swear to Merlin, I've had enough of seeing green colour dominating the Great Hall.”

Hans grinned. “Deal.”

“Very well, then.” Elsa stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek. “I'll see you in the morning, Westergaard.”

Before he could process what had just happened, Elsa was long gone. On his way back to his patrol, Hans couldn’t help but wonder about Elsa’s hesitation. She kept something from him, something she didn’t want him to know. The kiss on his cheek, the brief glance at his lips, were those vague hints? Nah, it would be too soon to tell. Only time would tell. Hans shook his head, knowing that he needed to earn back her trust first before anything else. And for that, he was willing to go at her pace. 

After all, they were friends first before they were lovers.

***

Will there be a part 2? I don’t know, tbh. Thanks for reading!

Also, it’s 2 AM, sorry for any mistakes.

[boreum-dal]

cardcaptor sakura: boy band au #1

so, a while back, in the midst of a DEEP dive into BTS, @swingsdown​ and i brainstormed a stupidly indulgent CCS boy band AU which i’ve written in bits and pieces over the last few months for fun. i don’t plan to do much with it, but i thought it’d be fun to post little bits of it here as it gets written.

below is the rundown: 

touya, yukito, eriol, syaoran, and yamazaki make up japan’s hottest boy group, CLOW, a group that has smashed regional and global records, amassed a cult-like legion of fans, and reached new peaks of success with every comeback they stage. beyond good looks, catchy music, and charming personalities, the group captures the hearts of fans with what appears to be genuine brotherhood and love for each other both on- and off-camera. but just when it looks like they can’t fly any higher, yukito, the glue of the group, abruptly leaves, and everything is at risk of falling apart. 

these are non-chronological vignettes of the band’s time together, both while yukito is with them and after he leaves as they try to stage a return to the music world. 

[see below for descriptions of the boys’ roles in the band, etc. + first vignette]

navigation:

[intro & post-yukito #1] [post-yukito #2] [post-yukito #3]| [during yukito #1]

-touya: rapper/singer, 26, group leader, trainee for longest (6 years--15 to 21) because he didn’t have any proper musical training when he auditioned; wanted to become a musician to help make ends meet for his family. best rapper, ok singer, worst dancer. Is friendly enough for an idol but a little stoic but has lots of fans because he’s very good looking

-yamazaki: rapper/singer, 24, exceptionally good dancer and ok rapper, relatively terrible singer but had to take vocal lessons to improve after yukito left to help fill the gap; never fights with anyone, chaotic energy at almost all times, known for his smiley eyes; known for weirdly high iq

-eriol: singer, 22, classically trained/very good vocalist, TERRIBLE rapper, pretty good dancer, calmest/most polite out of the group, best “face of the group,” known for classic good looks, comes from rich family, bff/roomies with syaoran

-syaoran: singer, 22, second best vocalist behind eriol, not good rapper, pretty good dancer, sometimes gets called “mini touya” because they’re both a little surly and look alike (and is popular despite stoicism/attitude bc he’s cute), hardest on himself and known to be a perfectionist, bff/roomies with eriol, auditioned through global casting in hong kong, had to learn japanese, english, and korean in training

-their fans unironically call themselves “CLOWn.” 

-this is modeled much more after kpop boy groups/the kpop system in general, which i know is quite different from the jpop scene. 

====

[post-yukito #1]

Syaoran watched, holding his breath, as the cameraman counted down with his fingers from three for their cue. At zero, he bowed in perfect unison with his bandmates, rising back up with a practiced smile. Yukito had taught him that the eyes mattered the most--if they don’t crinkle a little, people won’t think it’s genuine, he’d said. Syaoran squeezed the muscles around his cheeks just a little bit tighter and swallowed back bile. He felt Yamazaki squeeze his elbow to his left, and realizing how tense his shoulders were, he took in a breath and tried to force himself to relax.

“Hello, we’re CLOW,” he chorused with the group, and he threw up a v-sign with his fingers, maintaining the fake-genuine smile. Yukito would have been to his right if he’d been here, and he tried not to think about how painfully naked his right shoulder felt. They’d been preparing for this for months, and even so, everything about this situation suddenly felt horribly wrong.

“Hi, CLOW!” the host, a chipper young woman with bright blue hair and purple contact lenses who’d recently made her solo debut a few months ago, exclaimed, turning briefly to them before facing the camera again. 

Syaoran briefly recalled the first time they’d been on this particular concert pre-show; it had been three weeks into their debut, and he’d been so nervous that he could hardly see straight. The interviewer then had been a young man, a fellow idol singer doing a three-month stint as the host for the show, and when the host had held the mic up to Syaoran’s face, he’d been totally speechless, his voice shot from nerves. His whole group--Eriol in particular--had given him hell about it for weeks afterward. Even Yukito, in all his sweet earnestness, had given him some good-natured ribbing about it. Only Touya had refrained, for one reason or another. 

“Today is a very exciting day--your first comeback in over six months with your new single, LOVETORN!” the host said, turning towards Touya. “Tell us, how are you feeling?”

Touya leaned into the mic, facing the camera and wearing a convincingly charming grin. “It feels amazing. We are so happy to be able to provide new music for our fans, who have been so loving and wonderful while we’ve been on our break. We only hope that our fans love the single with as much love as we poured into making it.”

“Well, within twenty-four hours of the music video’s release on YouTube, it already hit 70 million views, so I think we can say with certainty that your fans love the single!” the host chirped. “Can you tell us what the meaning behind this song is?”

Syaoran was relieved the mic did not go to him for this question; he’d have had a difficult time not rolling his eyes. The meaning was pretty clear, he thought. It was a song about wanting someone back. Touya and the producers had decided to capitalize off of the most painful moment in the band’s four-year history by writing a fucking song about the departure of the one member that had truly held the team together. 

Eriol, predictably, was a little more diplomatic in his response, for better or for worse. “Yes, it’s about the pain of being apart from your loved one for a prolonged period of time and life not being the same without them,” he said into the mic. He pushed up his glasses. “In our case, it’s about us being separated from our beloved CLOWNs for so long and wanting desperately to be reunited. And here we are today.”

The host smiled. “Such a sad song, but you’re all so happy to be here! How are you going to emote something so painful onstage?”

It was Syaoran’s turn to speak. All eyes were on him now, and taking an imperceptible half-second to compose himself, he turned on his megawatt smile once more. “It’s quite simple, really. We’ll just think about the times that inspired us to write this song in the first place. All the hardships, all the heartache--we’ll bring it all back onstage. And to that end,” he said, looking directly into the camera, “we’ve missed you very much.”

He hoped Yukito was watching, even though he knew he wasn’t. 

“That is lovely, and we can’t wait to see you perform. Yamazaki, would you like to kick off the performance?”

Yamazaki stuck his face into the camera with a wide grin. “Absolutely. You’re watching Music Centre, and get ready for CLOW’s comeback with our new single, LOVETORN, in three, two, one!”

“Cut!” The director shouted, and the cameras stopped rolling. “Great job, everyone. I love when we get everything we need in one take--after all that time away, you really are true professionals.”

The group bowed, murmuring thanks, and shuffled backstage toward the dressing rooms. 

“Good job, everyone,” Yoshiyuki Terada, the group’s manager, called, looking up from an iPad. “Take ten and then we’ll meet back here--you’re due onstage after this next performance.”

Syaoran made it into the dressing room first, and immediately, he grabbed his headphones out of the pocket of his hoodie hanging from the door and shoved them into his ears. The last thing he wanted to do right now was reflect with the band on that painful interview--not right before they had to go outside and bear their souls to the world for a four-minute performance. Just as he sat down on one of the sofas, though, he felt one of the earbuds being plucked out of his ear. 

He looked up indignantly to see Touya holding the earbud, who was staring down at him with his lips drawn into a disapproving frown. “Quick team meeting.”

Syaoran scowled, but he turned around and leaned the front of his torso against the back of the sofa to face the rest of the group. 

“Okay, guys,” Touya said, leaning against the vanity and crossing his arms. “First live performance of our comeback. How are we feeling?”

“Pretty good, now that the interview’s over,” Eriol said with a sigh. He reached down toward the floor to stretch his legs. “That was the hardest part for me.”

Yamazaki nodded. “Now that we don’t have to talk, I feel fine. It’s just a matter of doing what we’ve been practicing for the last two months now. It’s all muscle memory from here!”

Touya glanced at Syaoran next. Syaoran glared at him for a moment, but then he met Eriol’s softer gaze, and he deflated a little. “I’m--I’ll be fine. I’m not nervous.”

Touya pursed his lips. “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

“I know.” Syaoran swallowed. “But I don’t know what else I can say.”

Touya regarded him in silence for a moment, and Syaoran knew without looking that Eriol and Yamazaki were watching the exchange with bated breath. Much to Syaoran’s relief, Touya let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do a good job out there tonight. No mistakes. The choreography on this is a little different from what we’re used to, so everyone needs to be in the exact right place at the exact right time.”

Of course it’s different. We’re missing a fifth body.

“How about you, Touya? How are you feeling?” Yamazaki asked, fiddling with the zipper on one of his many pant pockets. 

Touya exhaled softly, and for the first time all night, he raised the corners of his lips in a small smile. “I’m okay. This feels right.”

It didn’t, though, Syaoran thought. Nothing felt right. But his bandmates were clearly so excited to be performing again, Yukito or no, and he wasn’t going to ruin that for them just because he didn’t feel ready. 

“All right, guys, bring it in,” Touya said, holding out his hand. Eriol, Yamazaki, and Syaoran joined. “On three, CLOW. One, two, three--”

“CLOW!” the four of them chimed, and Syaoran followed Touya out of the dressing room and back toward the stage.

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

Ashe Ubert x Reader- [Wishes]

Premise- A special take on the goddess tower event in FE3H. Also a feelz dump because this poor boy deserves to have a moment of peace. 

Warning: Plenty of fluff, feelz, and one soft boi below the cut.

Part : (1/2) {Next} 

Words: 2946 

“(Y/N)! Did you come up here for a rest too?” Ashe spoke when he noticed his classmate sitting on the tower’s ground. She sat hunched over, with her feet dangling off the edge. Soft puffs of air escaped her into the night air, and her was face flush from the cold. It was so silent that he almost missed her, but he knew the back of that head anywhere. After all, he sat behind her during most classes. When he spoke, she swiveled just enough to see him, almost as if she knew that he’d come. How long had she been sitting there alone?

“Partially. Large crowds are not my strong suit as you probably know. Though it was the absence of a certain clumsy archer that brought me here in particular,” She gestured to himself, and patted the space next to her. It surprised him, and his body went ridged. Why would she look for him?

“For me? Oh, I’m so sorry to put you out of your way! I was just kind of worn out from all of the excitement,” he stuttered out, and one of her eyebrows rose. He noticed her lips twitch into a teasing smirk that he knew all too well. It was the same one she’d give him when they’d train together.

“I am enjoying the ball, but it’s a bit much, you know? Everyone else seems used to this kind of thing, but I’ve never been to anything like it before. My friends did teach me a bit about proper manners and how to dance, but I still feel out of place. Stepping on girls’ feet, messing up the pretty floral decorations…HaHa, I’ve been a bit of a disaster,” his gaze trailed to his feet as he twiddled his fingers anxiously, “Sometimes I wonder if it’s even right for someone like me to be in a place like this,” His self-refection was throttled by a harsh tug on his sleeve. When he went to move back out of shock, she pulled him down to sit beside her.

“Let me stop you right there Ashe. You have just as much a right to be here as anyone else…even with your two left feet,” She said with a giggle, and kicked his feet with her own at the end. Ashe could not help but be bashful at their proximity. He could feel the blood rushing to his ears yet could do nothing but pray to the goddess that she would not notice.

“I-I-I’m glad you feel that way. I am in fact a student here at the officer’s academy, so I suppose that you’re right,” He yielded to her teasing, and took the giddy swaying of her feet as a good sign.

“I know I’m right Ashe. Anyone who’d turn down a dance with you is a fool,” She said, tucking into herself. His thoughts then wandered to the ball. It was just another thing that made him feel distant from his classmates, but to hear words of acceptance made his chest feel even more tight. In a good way this time.

“O-oh…thank you. I needed to hear that. Social events like these can be quite frightening, but to have the support of my friends makes it a bit easier,” He admitted, and she leaned back onto her palms to face the sky. He wanted to follow suit but chose not to. Putting some distance would benefit him, and hopefully hide his embarrassment.

“Good, because now you owe me a dance,” Her voice halted him, and he bristled in panic. In fact, he jerked to look at her so quick that he almost leaned too far out from the edge. This time his emotions literally almost did kill him.

“W-what? But you just said yourself that I have two left feet?!” He internally cursed when his voice cracked, and the crinkle of her eyes when she laughed almost sent him over the edge.

“I know, but I also said that anyone who’d turn down a dance with you is a fool. I am no fool sir,” Her tone laced itself with an amused drawl, and her feet kicked his own once again for good measure. Why would she want to dance with him when he stepped on all his other partners’ feet? He was a disaster waiting to happy, so why would she want him? His inner monologue spiraled, but he was not one to deny his friends. Especially if he could make them happy…and even more so if it were her asking.

“Well…if you insist then I would love to! Are you ready to head back to the ball?” He asked and gestured to the stairwell behind them.

“No…I would like to stay up here if you don’t mind. It’s peaceful,” She continued to lean back, letting the wind curl up in her locks of hair. It is a sight he could see pictured in one of his books, but he would never tell her that.  

“Okay then…I’ll stay with you, so that you don’t get lonely,” He settled back into his seat with a light chuckle. A wise decision indeed, as she chose to scoot closer to him. She easily excused it as the chill in the air, but he did not mind one bit. The company was welcome.

“A true prince charming you are, do you know that?” She said teasingly, and he immediately shook his head in denial. A prince? Him? That is a world no one wished to see.

“Ah! Nonono, I could never be a prince. I lack the decorum, and I’m nowhere near as gallant,” He said, voice hoarse while using exaggerated hand gestures.  She then batted his hands in disapproval.

“I beg to differ, but I won’t argue,” Her words followed a tired sigh. He decided to change the topic off him in fear that she would push the fantasy.

“By the way, have you heard stories about the goddess tower? They say that if a man and a woman make a wish together here, the goddess will make it come true,” He gestured to the statues surrounding him, and she mockingly scratched her chin in thought. He should have expected as much.

“Wow…that’s quite a bargain. Do you mean that if I lug a poor sap up here to make a wish with me, then it will come true?” She asked, nose scrunching up as she pretended to think. He could not hold back the laugh bubbling in the back of his throat.

“Y-yes, in a way. They would have to make a wish as well for it to work though,” He said between laughs, and she eagerly joined in.  If it was not for the occasional whisper carried up from below them, he might have forgotten that there were other people in the area. It felt like he was back at home, with his siblings chatting away at his side. Almost as if the events recently transpired had not happened, and that Lanato was still alive. That he still had a home to return to, and his path to become a knight was not as blurred.

“Would you like to be that poor sap and make a wish?” He was tugged from his thoughts by her voice. No longer full of jingly chuckles, but now solemnly sweet. As if she knew where his mind went, her first instinct was to pat his hand in comfort. He pressed his palm into hers and accepted the warmth she offered before.

“It would be my pleasure. Do you have anything you’d like to wish for?” He asked, genuinely wanting to know the answer.

“That dance we talked about would be nice,” She squeezed his hand, and swayed her feet. The music could not be heard from the tower, but he knew there was a symphony playing in her head. However, that did not stop him from chiding her.

“W-what? D-don’t waste your wish on something like that!” He stammered out.

“Why not? It would make me happy, and it’s not a large demand,” She let him go to cross her arms, standing her ground. He could not tell if she was throwing him for a loop or being serious. His toes curled in his shoes as he tried to sway her decision. It is not every day that you can make a wish like this.

“Please, you should wish for something that you truly want. I am always more than willing to give you a dance” At his earnest comment she put her arms down, and his mouth curved into a relieved smile.

“Okay, my wish is…” She trailed off.

“Your wish is?” He repeated.

“For Seteth to stop filtering the library,” She decided, putting her fist into her palm as if she was a detective solving a big case. Yet he was once again not so certain on her choice.

“Really?! That’s your wish?” He asked in disbelief. She appeared hesitant to respond, and her eyes shifted away from his own. He knew the body language of a lie anywhere; he did it many times in his past despite not being proud of it. However, the moment he noticed it she was grinning again.

“Flayn needs this, trust me. What about you Ashe? What’s your wish?” She caught him off guard by changing the subject onto him, and he decided that pursuing the issue held no merit.

“What? M-my wish? W-well um, let me think. All right, I’ve got it. I wish for my brother and sister back at home to be able to live out their lives in peace,” He folded his hands together in prayer, and for the first time that night he looked to the sky in prayer.

“That’s a wonderful wish Ashe. I know the goddess will make it come true,” When he turned back, she was in the same position; gaping at the stars above with her hands gently clutched in prayer. He did not know if she believed in the goddess, but to see her still humor his antics made him happy.

“I hope so…say, w-would you like to go have that dance now?” He extended an arm to her and stared at his open palm. He tugged at his collar as a light sweat coated his back. Maybe for once the goddess would bless him with the ability to not smash his partner’s toes.

“I would be honored, but the party is almost over. I don’t think the music is playing anymore,” She slouched in place, yet still took his offered hand. He gasped at the realization. How could he have forgotten?! Oh, it was so insensitive to hold her up here with his wish when he could have made her happy. The guilt built up to the point where he felt a sharp pain in his chest. After all, she asked him not once but twice.

“O-oh, silly me. I was so caught up with the wish that I forgot. I’m so sorry (Y/n)!” He paled and clutched her hand in apology. What he would not give to go curl up in his room for the rest of the night. His fingers covered in callouses from practice were probably uncomfortable to her, and unlike her hands his were ice cold. At this point he was zapping her warmth away, and to take up all her time was just awful of him.

“Ashe, we can still dance if you’d like,” Once again she pulled him from his internal rambling. As she stood, she clutched his hand even tighter than before and gestured for him to join her. It was now that he was able to take in more of her appearance, as her knee length black skirt brushed against his shoulder. It seemed that she ignored the dress code, and instead decided to wear a plain button-down navy blouse with the formal skirt provided by the monastery.

“Here? But there’s no music! I-I have no sense of rhythm,” He choked out, and she scratched at her cheek with the hand he was not holding.

“Well…It isn’t a fancy as the band, but I can give you music. Don’t expect any encores though,” She tugged at his hand once again, and he rose from his spot.

“W-wait, that’s not necessary! You don’t need to inconvenience yourself like that, I just don’t want to crush your toes and- “

“Ashe,” she placed a hand on his shoulder, “It’s alright, my toes can handle a little squishing,” and with that she forced him into a simple stance. He heard her mumble that there was nothing to worry about, as she rose their conjoined hands and led his free arm to her waist. In doing so she gently grasped his shoulder, gradually leading him to sway with her. The entire time he remained silent in fear of being even more skittish. His hair was slighted from earlier festivities, and he wondered if she noticed despite the lack of lighting.

Wise men say,

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you  

In the softest tone he had ever heard from her, she sang a slow beat for him to follow. Loud enough for him to keep up, but not enough for others to hear. He grew listless in front of her, and he gave into the temptation to let his thoughts wander. They found Lanato, his family, his classmates, and everyone he cared for. Some were gone, never to be seen again. Yet, some remained. He wanted to protect them like the how the knights would in his favorite stories. He wanted to see people happy, and to live a life he could cherish if the goddess would allow him.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can’t help falling in love with you

Everything has happened so fast, and now he is no longer the person he was when he enrolled at the academy. For some time, it was scary. He would lay there in his bed and stare at the ceiling for hours. In those moments he would allow himself to be pessimistic and think of those he has lost. When Lanato passed on it was as if he lost his parents all over again, and the fear of what would happen to his siblings reappeared. Where would they go? Would he be forced out of Garreg Mach? Why, why, why would someone take advantage of the pain of another person for their own gain? How could people be so heartless? How could he have killed someone so easily? He did not even know the names of the people he had fought, and their swift deaths could just as easily be him in the future.

Like a river flows surly to the sea

Darling so it goes

Somethings are meant to be

Despite all those thoughts, there are times where he remembers why he is here. Moments like this, where he seems the fruits of what fighting for a peaceful future produces. As he reminds himself of them, his gaze falls to his partner. By now he has stepped on her toes many times, yet she still has not complained once. If he did not know any better, he would think Dimitri let her borrow his steel boots, but one glance at her leather flats proved the thought foolish. Her eyes remained closed, even as he gently twirled her. However, when he did so her lips curved into a smile as she sung. Rough hands from vigorous training clutched his own, and as their shoes scuffled on the tile floor he resolved to live in the moment. Here. With his “friend,” celebrating the millennium festival, and hopefully not making a laughingstock out of himself.

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you -

 “Hello? Is anyone up there?”  She froze at the new voice and he stumbled into her. He fell into her arms, and hastily she covered his mouth before he could yell out in surprise. It took a moment for the voice to call up again, and another for him to register it as Seteth.

“Yes! We’ll be down in a moment!” She stammered, something he knew did not happen often. Seteth urged them to hurry down, and she grimaced when he chided them for almost missing curfew. When they both could no longer hear his footsteps, she let him go.  

“Well, I guess this is where we stop. I’m sorry for holding you down. It’s battlefield instinct to hide when startled, you know?” She took a step back and tangled her arms behind her back. He shivered at the sudden lack of her warmth but did his best to hide it. Instead, he decided to tug down his down his sleeves.

“O-oh no! I’m sorry that I stumbled. Despite all the practice I still am no good when it comes to things like this,” for once he was glad that he was a naturally flush person from his skin’s light pigmentation. It made the light tinge of pink on his neck and ears less noticeable.

“No worries. I um…thank you, for the dance I mean,” she paused and began to advance towards the stairwell, “This night turned out much better than I expected,” when she descended he hurriedly sped up to follow in suit. It did not take much for him to feel the all too familiar tug on his lips as he followed.

“Is that s-so? Let’s dance again next year then!”

“I’ll hold you to that”

[slippinmickeys]

Fairies, Skip Hence

This is my pic for the 2019 X-Files Secret Santa fic exchange. It was written for @msrafterdark, who’s prompt was “Soft early MSR, maybe a small gathering at the Scullys in which Mulder is invited. I'm a sucker for where Mulder and Scully are trying to find equlibrium in their new relationship.” 

Observing her from the passenger seat, she looked nervous, tense, eyes focused on the road like high beams. Her sharp little bob was perfectly coiffed, and she was wearing the bra and panty set (he’d been there when she put them on) that made her walk more upright. He thought of them as her Confidence Boosters, though it wouldn’t do to tell her that--she’d roll her eyes at the double meaning and never wear them again.

Hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, knuckles almost white.

He’d loved her for years, and knew she felt the same. They’d been Pyramus and Thisbe, speaking words of love through walls of their own making. It was only recently that those walls had come down, and he knew she felt unsteady, was still finding her footing. He didn’t know how the next few days would go, but he did know one thing: she still wasn’t sure about this.  

XxXxXxXxXxX

She still wasn’t sure about this. Mulder was coming to Christmas at her mother’s house.

She wouldn’t even be dealing with it if they’d been slightly more discreet and a lot more awake--he’d accidentally answered her phone at 8am on Thanksgiving when Maggie had called to asked Dana to bring an ingredient she’d forgotten. When Mulder had handed her the phone (they really needed to figure out what side of the bed they were each going to take, and leave phones ONLY on their own side), he’d looked both chagrined and pleased, and her irritation had given way to mortification when she’d heard the tone of her mother’s voice.

“Good morning, Dana. Was that… Fox?” she’d asked, her voice full of hope and barely concealed delight.

For all his foibles and for as much as her older brother hated him, her mother had

always had a soft spot for Mulder. “Fox and I have been through a lot together, Dana,” she would always say.

One grandchild was all Margaret Scully had, and the prospect of more--however they might come into the world--would sustain her. A man--any man, really, but this one in particular (Scully had reluctantly told her mother about the IVF failure earlier in the summer)--answering her daughter’s phone at dawn on a holiday was surely cause for celebration and hope.

Scully had steadfastly refused to bring him along that day, their relationship being so new, so she really ought not to have been surprised when Mulder told her a week or two later that Maggie Scully had called him herself to invite him to join the family at Christmas.

She’d pinched the bridge of her nose when he’d asked her what she thought he should bring.

And that was how they’d found themselves bright and early on Christmas Eve, driving north through quickly accumulating snow with a backseat full of gifts, a half case of wine and increasingly jangly nerves.

“We do stockings on Christmas Eve,” Scully said out of nowhere, her fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

“Okay,” Mulder said, clearly wondering where she was going with this.

“Just a warning,” she went on.

“Okay,” Mulder repeated.

“Bill is going to be there.”

“You’ve mentioned that several times.”

“And Tara and Matthew, and Charlie is home on leave,” she went on.

“Right.”

“I’m not sure where Mom will want us to sleep. She might put us in separate rooms.”

“So sex only clandestinely in the bathroom,” Mulder joked.

“Mulder!”

“Scully, I’m kidding. Relax, it’s going to be fine.”

She gave him an extremely skeptical look.

“Please no sex jokes in front of my family.”

“Noted,” he said, and then, “I grew up with a full Emily Post upbringing, Scully, I promise I can comport myself.”

Her mother knew she and Mulder were together now, which meant that so did everyone else. She worried she’d be treated differently. She worried Mulder would be treated differently. She and Mulder weren’t exactly “public,” so she worried she’d treat him differently. Everything was so new. God, would he kiss her in front of her family? Would she want him to? What if she wanted him to? Seven years of saying we’re just friends to her family was a hard habit to break. She’d rather do Christmas with the Gunmen, she thought, as she took her mother’s exit off 95. She’d rather see Frohike in nothing but a Santa hat.

She sighed dramatically.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” she said.

She thought, it’s everyone else. It’s Bill. It’s me.  

Mulder reached over the console and tried to rub the tension out of her neck.

His touch fortified her as it always did. Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They made it through the lekking ground of the entryway, Bill and Charlie gathered to alternately dole out hugs and stiff handshakes laced with polite menace. Charlie winked at her as he shook Mulder’s hand.

Tara met them at the threshold with glasses of spiked eggnog, which Scully downed half of instantly, gratefully.

They made small talk in the kitchen with Tara and her mother, while Matthew scooted around on the floor, running a Brio train over everyone’s shoes. Mulder offered to make his legs a tunnel for the boy, and she saw both other Scully women’s eyes crinkle at the corners, charmed.

The man could charm anything but bees, she thought.

Scully couldn’t help but be thrown by his presence amongst her family, his dark minky hair and his Fortean job, all out of context amidst the buttoned up Naval fortitude of the Scullys, with their fair hair and their strict adherence to protocol.

He looked and sounded relaxed, as did the rest of her family, but she couldn’t unclench. He reached for her several times and she didn’t reach back.

Her mom caught her eye from across the room and gave her a questioning look.

She ducked into her mother’s quiet den not long after that, pulling Mulder rather reluctantly behind her. The room was much the same as it had been when it had been her dad’s office: still smelled of leather and old books. Naval charts hung on the walls. She took a moment to center herself.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked her.

She turned to him.

“I was going to ask you the same,” she said.

He cocked her a half-grin.

“This is not my first too-hard handshake, Scully. I can handle myself.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said.

“I’m the prince of subtlety,” he said, “I plan to challenge Bill to a game of one-on-one and throw an elbow.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose again. She’d been doing it a lot lately.

“The guy plays like Bill Lambeer, Scully,” he said, continuing to push her, “you can just tell. It’ll be completely justified.”

She didn’t rise to the bait and instead stepped into him, close.

“Everything is different now,” she said, nervously, and he sobered.

“Nothing is different now,” he replied as he moved in to kiss her forehead, then leaned down to catch her eye, “absolutely nothing is.”

She knew he meant that they had always had love between them, fierce and unconditional.

She nodded at him, her face softening, “but everything is all out of context here and it’s already throwing me for a loop.”

It was probably as honest and forthright as she had ever been with him. He decided right then to be on his best behavior.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose as he backed out of the room, “come on, let’s go be social.”

She glanced at her watch as she followed him. It was not yet noon.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Lunch was a simple spread of cheeses and meats, laid out on the dining room table for casual grazing -- Mrs. Scully had a big dinner planned.

Mulder helped himself, but Scully seemed too preoccupied to eat, and he watched her interact with her family as he sat on the couch in Maggie’s living room, a paper plate perched on his knee.

It was fascinating watching her comportment shift from Agent Scully to Dana, to watch how she joked with her brothers, slouched like a teenager against her mom in the kitchen. The Scullys were a tactile, affectionate bunch, prone to sarcastic comments about one another, but always with the understanding of love under each gentle jibe. Hers had been a very different upbringing from his own. He was held rapt.

The star of the show of course was Matthew, who was happy to be the center of attention, taking time to engage with each adult to gauge their suitability as playmate and co-star. Mulder appeared to pass muster with his ability to realistically die when poked with a small plastic lightsaber.

Mulder caught Scully staring during one such encounter with the boy, her expression guarded and unreadable.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully watched Charlie watch Mulder surreptitiously from where he sat in the living room. Her brother was obviously intrigued by him, having heard the stories from other members of her family, having never met the man himself.

Each of the Scully children had very different personalities. Charlie had always been the prankster, the lighthearted sarcastic kid that could bring a smile to anyone’s face. He’d also been the kindest, and Scully thought, behind his extroverted, jovial exterior, the most observant. He never missed a moment.

As if on cue, he shifted his gaze to her and smiled. Pointed to Mulder and gave her an exaggerated thumbs up.  

Charlie’s approval was almost antithetical to high spirits and she found her mood turning sour, which she knew was ridiculous. She operated better when it was just her and Mulder against the world, when her love for him was a closely guarded secret. They had only just started sleeping together, and she was afraid of how much she already needed him. She found she wanted to go to a corner and lick at nonexistent wounds, to snarl at anyone who came near. She was mad at herself for getting mad.

When her mother asked if anyone wanted to decorate the Christmas cookies she and Matthew had made the day before, Scully surprised everyone by volunteering and drifting off toward the kitchen with Tara and Bill, leaving the room with an apologetic glance at Mulder. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Enjoying ‘The Very Best Sacred Christmas Carols?’” Charlie said, handing Mulder a cold bottle of beer and dropping heavily onto the couch beside him.

“Of course,” Mulder said, nodding his thanks.

Charlie took a swig from the bottle he was holding. “You don’t have to lie,” he said, “there’s only so many times a man can hear a choir singing the word ‘holy’ before he wants to get hung from a yardarm.”

“Depends on the choir, I guess,” Mulder said, smiling.

A stiff, staid chorus sang from the speakers in Maggie’s entertainment center.

“I think this one is from King’s College, Cambridge,” Charlie said thoughtfully, “I’ve only heard it every Christmas since 1979. Mom is militant that the Christmas music be as Jesus-y as possible, and Bill is militant about Mom being militant.”

Mulder took another swig. “Always been more of an Oxford guy, myself,” he said, noncommittally.  

Charlie regarded him for a long moment.

“Bill isn’t a big fan of yours,” he said levelly. Mulder quirked a shoulder—a ‘what are you gonna do?’ gesture. “But you seem to make my sister happy,” the man went on.

Mulder sat up straighter and chuffed a self-conscious laugh.

“I wouldn’t have drawn that conclusion by the way she’s been today, myself,” he said, still smiling, catching his thumbnail on the edge of the beer label.

Charlie laughed brightly.

“That’s actually how I can tell,” he said. “She cares so much about making a good impression, she’s getting in her own way. And you haven’t seen the way she’s been looking at you when you’re not looking at her.”

Mulder looked to the younger man.

“You do the same thing, by the way,” Charlie went on, laughing. “My aunt Mabel would have used the word ‘besotted.’”

Mulder flashed on something he’d said a year or so before, I do not gaze at Scully.

“You guys are hopeless,” Charlie laughed. “But… I’m not my brother,” Charlie went on, “and to be honest, I’d like you on the off chance it would piss Bill off-“ Mulder quirked a grin at that “-but couple that with Dana’s obvious and utter devotion to you, and I’ve decided to like you because she does.”

Mulder felt he’d just earned something hard-given. He looked at the youngest Scully with gratitude.

“Now cover me,” Charlie said, and suddenly stood, the earnest moment forgotten as the young redhead pulled a CD case out of his back pocket. He handed Mulder his beer.

“What?” Mulder said, confused.

Charlie nodded towards the room’s entrance.

“Cover me,” he said, and Mulder stood, holding a cold beer in each hand, moving to the edge of the room, a precipitate look-out man. “Nobody fucks with Mom’s carols,” Charlie went on, kneeling in front of the CD player in the middle of the room. He pushed a button and the music suddenly stopped, the changer slowly giving up the ghost and ejecting the disc that had been in the player. “So let’s see what happens, shall we?” He pressed a mischievous grin in Mulder’s direction and pushed a new CD in.

It took about ten seconds before a new song started playing, more loudly than the carols had been, a drum beat followed by piano—Elton John’s bizarre holiday song ‘Who’d Be A Turkey At Christmas.’

From the direction of the kitchen, Bill’s voice came with an approaching “Now what the hell?” and Charlie ran toward Mulder, a roguish smile on his face.

“Run,” he said, coming right at Mulder, who braced himself.

“What?!” Mulder said, amused, but unnerved.

“Run!” Charlie said, darting past Mulder and grabbing his beer out of Mulder’s hand in the process.

Mulder felt he had no choice but to run up the stairs after him, laughing—a sudden but willing accomplice—while Elton drawled on drunkenly about having ‘a few too many,’ loudly from the speakers just as Bill barged into the room on a wind of blustering confusion.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully narrowed her eyes at Mulder, as they deposited overnight bags in the corner of her adolescent bedroom.

“What?” Mulder asked.

“Charlie took full responsibility for the music kerfuffle,” she said, and Mulder looked at her innocently. He would not implicate himself. Charlie had hit a setting on the CD player, whether on purpose or not remained to be seen, but Bill couldn’t get the player to stop until it was halfway through ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.’

Peace had been restored and the choir of Cambridge was once again singing its way through the Wassail Song though Scully had used the temporary chaos to steal out to the car and grab their luggage. She still wasn’t entirely sure Mulder wouldn’t be relegated to the foldout couch in the basement, being both the other half of an unmarried couple and now party to the playing of non-sanctioned Christmas music.

He sat on her childhood bed, bouncing on it experimentally.

“Not too creaky,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.

She ignored him, hands on her hips.

“You seem to be getting along with everyone okay,” she said, half questioning.

“I’m not without my charms,” he shrugged. She seemed tense and still hadn’t sat down. “Your family is great, Scully,” he said, “even the ones who don’t like me have been very polite.”

That at least elicited a reluctant smile, and she finally sat down next to him.

“We’re halfway through,” she said.

“Halfway through what?” he asked.

“The day,” she said, and he shot her a sympathetic smile. “Next up we’ve got stockings, dinner, then midnight mass…”  

“And then?” he said, swaying into her.

“And then we take a Benadryl with the family Sauterne and wait for sleep to save us,” she said, standing and offering a hand up.

He laughed as she had meant him to and took her proffered hand.

“You okay with going to mass?” she asked him soberly as she pulled him up.

“If you go, I go,” he said, and gave her hand a quick peck before dropping it. “Tara’s been trying to get me alone for the last three hours, I’m going to go give her a chance.”

She smiled at him.

“Want some backup?” she said.

“Always,” he said, backing out of the room.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Bill started coming up the steps as Mulder was headed down, and Scully waited on the landing so as not to crowd him.

He passed her and started to head down the hallway, but as he walked by, he gave her a look which brought her up short.

“Something you want to say, Bill?” she said to his back. He stopped and turned toward her slowly.

“He’s staying in your room, I see,” he said.

“And Tara is staying in yours,” she said, a statement of fact.

He gave her a long look.

“Why him, Dana?” he finally asked.

“Because he loves me,” she said, feeling as though she really needn’t justify herself.

“Any man would love you,” he said, “look at you. You could have anyone you wanted.”

“But I want him.” She didn’t need to convolute it any. When it came right down to it, it really was as simple as that.

Bill looked at her for another long moment and then, seeming to come to some kind of internal decision, nodded at her and turned away.

XxXxXxXxXxX

After a few minutes he watched as Scully came into the living room to find him perched casually on the couch next to her sister in law. She sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room and picked up a nearby paperback. Good old Scully, watching his back as always. The music in the room was still extolling the glory of the season and it afforded he and Tara a fair bit of privacy.

“Have you done Yankee Swap before, Fox?” Tara asked him brightly.

“Don’t know. Sounds vaguely punitive.”

She smiled at him.

“It’s a fun gifting thing we started doing a few years back where you can take someone else’s present or swap it out for a new one.”

“That’s a relief,” he said, deadpan, “I was afraid you were coming onto me.”

Tara laughed as he had hoped she would, then leaned into him confidentially, her breath smelling sweetly of pinot grigio. She had a smudge of flour on the left side of her chin.

“You know, Dana has never brought over a boyfriend before,” she said, probably a bit louder than she meant to.

Scully looked up sharply from where she sat curled up in her chair, and Mulder gave her a significant look which was completely lost on Tara as he leaned in to talk to her.

“We’ve been worried about her,” Tara said, “with that job of yours. It seems dangerous and all-consuming. We didn’t think she’d ever meet anyone.”

“I, for one, am glad she didn’t,” Mulder said and darted a look at Scully who was pretending not to eavesdrop.

Tara giggled good naturedly.

“Maggie’s been telling us about the change in her these last few weeks. How happy she seems. I guess falling in love with each other was inevitable,” she said wistfully.

Mulder nodded softly.

“Fate,” he said, and Scully’s eyes bobbed to his.

“Sweet,” Tara sighed girlishly, “well, we’re glad you’re here, Fox.” She patted his knee. “You’ll make Dana a wonderful husband, I’m sure,” she went on, clearly meaning it as the highest of compliments.

“Well,” Mulder said, holding Scully’s eyes across the room, “it’s an honor just to be nominated.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Afternoon rolled into evening, and the weak sun laid long shadows through Margaret Scully’s neighborhood before it was blotted out completely in a blast of swirling snow.

He had drifted into the den and had been looking at the Naval map of the Carribean when Scully found him.

“Please tell me you’re not considering another trip to the Bermuda Triangle,” she said.

He turned to her and smiled, reached out to her. He saw her look at his outstretched hand and she walked around it, moving to look out the window.

“Looks like you’re getting out of midnight mass,” she said, one finger pulling down a slat on the room’s Venetian blinds, “it’s really coming down out there.”

The wind was gusting, pushing snow and ice past the glass; visibility was limited to about ten feet. The family had agreed to keep an eye on the weather and bow out of attending the midnight service if driving conditions became too dangerous.

Mulder came up behind her and bent down to look outside as well, her back pressed into him. When she straightened, he didn’t move, and he felt a frisson of energy run along the skin where he was pressed to her. He brought his hand to her hip and pressed his lips to her ear.

“Don’t,” she said, stepping away, and Mulder looked at her, hurt and confused. Immediately, she reached out a conciliatory hand and looked to the heavens as if for help. “I’m sorry,” she said.

He gave her a long look.

“If you didn’t want me to come, you should have told me,” he said gently.

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it? Because honestly, Scully, you are the only one making things weird. Even Bill is acting like an adult, which is, frankly, almost as surprising as your attitude.”

She sighed.

She was prickly and self-conscious, beautiful and unapproachable. Even when she was pissed off with him--even when he was pissed off with her too--he felt like the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.

“We’re still trying to figure out what this is, Mulder,” she said a little desperately, gesturing between the two of them,  “I still don’t know how to be with you. How to work with you. How any of this is going to play out. And having to figure that out while surrounded by my family of all people is just… a lot.”

He sighed himself and stepped back into her space, reaching out to rub a hand up and down her back.

She was tense under his hand.

“Tara keeps staring at my ring finger,” she said, and Mulder couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It’s not funny,” she said.

“It’s kind of funny,” he said.

“Mulder-”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, pressed his lips to her neck. One of his hands started creeping under the hem of her blouse.

“Scully—“ he started, when Matthew toddled into the room on a delighted shriek, the only one in the house who wouldn’t have picked up on the blatant frottage before him.

Scully took a step away from Mulder as Bill popped his head through the door.

“I think we’re going to to do stockings now,” Bill said, nodding toward his son, “some of us are getting a little antsy.”

“Sure,” Scully said to him, and then knelt down in front of the boy. “Matty, will you show me where the stockings are?” she asked him, and he happily took her by the hand and pulled her out of the room. She glanced behind her at Mulder as she left, who was still standing by the window, backlit by the snow.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Her mother found her outside just before dinner, wrapped in a tatty old afghan and leaning over the railing on the back porch, watching chickadees dart in and out of the feeder in the day’s fading light. The wind had stopped blowing, but the snow was still coming down, fat white flakes drifting down out of the silent heavens.

“Everything all right?” Margaret Scully asked from the doorway. She turned to look at her mother, who was hugging her sweater around herself tightly, her feet shoved into an old pair of fleecy slippers.

“Mm,” she hummed, smiling at her.

Her mother closed the door behind her and walked out slowly to join her daughter, the snow squeaking under her feet as she moved.

Scully had gone outside to get a little fresh air, and, she hoped, a clearer head. She was avoiding Mulder’s touch like he was some secret teenaged boyfriend she wasn’t allowed to see and her head was running in such circles about the whole damn weekend, she was wound up in her own thoughts and likely to fall face first.

“Is my absence conspicuous?” Scully asked her mother lightly, reaching out an arm and wrapping a corner of the afghan over Margaret’s shoulder.

“Only to me,” her mom said, leaning into her. Her mother’s intuition was flawless, and sometimes all it took was Maggie flashing her a compassionate look for Scully to crumple back into a pre-teen mess and spill all her fears and secrets. “And to Fox.”

She turned to look at her mother. She’d inherited her insubstantial height, and being eye to eye with her always seemed to buck up Scully’s morale.

“Is he okay?” she asked.

“He’s fine,” her mother answered with a small smile, “currently building a fairly intricate train track with your nephew.” Then, after a long moment, “how long?” Have you been together didn’t need to be said.

Scully breathed out, a column of vapor dissipating into the air.

“Not very,” she answered.

Maggie Scully smiled and looked out onto her small white yard.

“I’m glad,” she said.

“Bill’s not,” Scully said softly.

“Bill doesn’t understand what you have,” her mother said, looking at her significantly. “I don’t know if anyone really can, other than the two of you,” she went on. Scully tucked her chin to her chest, not able to meet her mother’s eye. “That man loves you, Dana. With the kind of unquestionable, forever love any of my kids would be lucky to see in the world, much less experience. I’m glad Fox is here with us for the holiday,” she reached out and ran a hand up and down her daughter’s arm, “I hope you are, too.”

She looked up and saw her mother’s wistful expression, the way she rubbed her thumb over her wedding ring like a talisman. Maggie smiled at her and headed back into the house.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“You feeling any better?” Mulder asked her. He had volunteered to do dishes after the meal, so she volunteered to help him, drying as he washed and putting the dishes away.

He had one of her mother’s aprons on and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, suds halfway up his forearms.

“A bit,” she said.

He’d been the consummate guest at dinner, regaling the table with stories from his college days at Oxford, full of vulpine charm and Vineyard decorum. At one point she’d even seen Bill chuckling at one of his stories.

She felt guilty for laying her own discomfort at his feet when he was the outsider, the guest at her mother’s table. She told him so, while she wiped a casserole dish dry.

“Hey,” he said, bumping her gently with his hip, “you know I know you, right?”

She smiled at him.

A siren approached outside the house and they both stilled, a Pavlovian anticipation building until the emergency vehicle passed, the siren fading into the night. Water dripped from Mulder’s hands and they both slowly unclenched.

“Go be with your family, Scully, I’ll finish up here.”

She regarded him, took the glass he was holding and dried it slowly.

A round of laughter came in from the dining room, where the rest of the Scully clan were sipping Sauterne, Matthew playing troll under the table.

“You don’t know where anything goes,” she said.

“I’ll figure it out.”

She kissed his cheek, lingering there for a moment, and hooked the damp dishtowel over his shoulder, then left to join her family.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She offered to help Matthew put out cookies and milk for Santa, and Mulder followed them into the living room, charmed by the boy’s enthusiasm.

Once the goodies had been strategically placed just-so, she let Matthew talk her into reading him a small Christmas book he’d gotten in his stocking. She barely made it halfway through before Matthew ran out of steam and slumped against Scully’s leg, half a cookie clutched loosely in his damp hand, leaving a trail of crumbs on her knee. His eyes slid closed.

Scully ducked her head down to look at him, sweeping soft curls from his forehead. She closed the book and set it down next to her.

Mulder cocked his chin toward the boy.

“I had a roommate once, was the same way,” he said quietly.

Scully smiled and resisted the urge to smell the boy’s head. His little body had pinned her arm to her side.

Another round of cheerful laughter came in from the direction of the kitchen, the rest of the adults in the house all loosened up from a good meal and a round of wassail, the proximity of family.

Mulder rose from where he sat, and kneeled down in front of Scully, scooping the child up in his arms from where he’d been pressed to her. Her side felt suddenly cold.

“Where does he sleep?” Mulder whispered, and Scully rose, silently beckoning him to follow her.

Up the stairs and down the hallway they crept like thieves, Mulder and the child behind her a sleepy votary.

She opened the door to Missy’s old bedroom, which her mom had converted to a sewing room. It had a large crib set up in one corner and a Fisher Price nightlight projecting a jungle scene onto the ceiling. The door creaked as it swung open, but the boy didn’t awaken, and Mulder crept to the crib and deposited the child gently onto the mattress. He snuffled once and turned onto his side.

“Should we change him into PJ’s or anything?” Mulder whispered, keeping his eyes on the boy’s sleeping form.

She shook her head and took in the scene before her, Mulder watching over a sleeping Scully child. Whatever emotion threatened then, she refused it.

“I’ll go let Tara know we put him down,” she whispered back and turned from the room, drifting down the hallway like Marley’s ghost.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When it was confirmed that Matthew was finally asleep, Bill and Charlie set about bringing in gifts from the trunks of various cars, and Mulder had to jump in and help when they tumbled in through the front door, overloaded with gifts and stamping snow onto the mat.

Several toys needed assembling and the unlikely trio headed into the garage and went about it in the usual male fashion; with several strong opinions and more tools than necessary.

When they finished, they found that Tara and Maggie had gone up to bed, and Bill and Charlie followed suit.

Mulder searched the house until he found Scully.

Bubbles floated like dust motes silently through the living room, catching the color from the lights on the Christmas tree and turning the room kaleidoscopic. She sat in front of the fireplace amongst Matthew’s scattered stocking stuffers, looking young and small. She held a small Santa-shaped bottle, blowing bubbles quietly into the room from a wand protruding from Santa’s hat. She looked like a fairy in the festive space, and his heart clutched at the sight of her.

“Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” he said softly.

She looked up with a smile.

“What, jealous Oberon?” she said.

“Never,” he said, and lowered himself cross-legged next to her. The fire gave off a radiating heat that pushed into one side of his face.  

“I’m sorry--” she started, but he cut her off with a finger to her lips.

“Don’t,” he said, “this is a lot for you--all of it--I get it. You don’t have to apologize.” She smiled at him in relief. “So long as you don’t forswear my bed and company,” he went on.

She looked at him, her eyes watery, but bright.

“Never,” she whispered.

A bubble landed on her hair and refused to pop. He could hardly blame it.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A log gave a sharp snap in the fireplace and she turned her head to look at it.

She had realized she was in love with him when she was sick, writing to him in a journal she didn’t want him to read. Back then it was too late to do anything about it. Then she was granted a reprieve, death’s scythe pulled back, and regret was replaced with cowardice.

She looked back at him, the glow of the fire turing his face chimeric, and thought of Matthew’s crumby, damp hand, the glint of Charlie’s hair by the light of the sun. Her mother’s worn, papery skin, Bill linking his hand with Tara’s under the dining room table at dinner. She thought of the thump and swish of Mulder’s heart when her ear was pressed to his chest. It all felt like family. It all felt like home.

He was her partner, her fidus Achates, the love of her life.

“Take me to bed,” she said softly, reaching out for him.

“Look, I don’t know what the secretarial pool has been saying, but I’m not that kind of g-“

Scully silenced him with a kiss to the lips.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a basket case today,” she said, catching his eyes in the warm light of the fire. “Take me to bed, Mulder,” she said again, coyly arching an eyebrow at him.

He nodded at her earnestly and took her by the hand.

They padded lightly up the steps as Handel’s “Messiah” began to play on the stereo in the living room behind them.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She closed the door after he followed her in and the room took on a sudden quiet, the music from downstairs pushing gently at the outside of the door.

It was an odd contrast to see Mulder, an adult man, standing in her adolescent bedroom looking at her in anticipation, his eyes hooded with lust. She stepped into him, her toes on the tops of his--he flexed them even as he reached out and pulled her to him by the hips.

Sex between them had been surprising, incredible, but it was still new, and they had not yet settled on an easy rhythm, a give and take on the act’s initiation.

“Come here,” he said softly, though she couldn’t get much closer, and he pulled her flush up against him, his breath fanning her face.

He slowly took her arms one at a time and propped them up over his shoulders until they were encircling his neck, then he grabbed her firmly by the ass and lifted until her face was more or less even with his. She wrapped her legs around his waist reflexively.

“Better?” she whispered, smiling at him, their faces only an inch or so apart.

“Better,” he answered, and then leaned in slowly to kiss her.

His lips were framed by the rasp of his five o’clock shadow, which scraped against her skin, her teeth, as she opened her mouth to him. She hummed into him, relaxing into his embrace.

The stresses of the day seemed to peel back--her fears, expectations, pressures from her family whether real or merely perceived, all seemed to coalesce into one sharp feeling that melded somewhere in her chest and slowly sunk until it was an exquisite yearning pressure in her womb.

She threaded her fingers through his silky hair and she felt him turn and start walking them to the small double bed of her youth. Mulder sank slowly until he was sitting on it, Scully perched earnestly on his lap. He finally broke the kiss and leaned back to look at her.

“So I’m the first boyfriend you’ve brought home, huh?” he said, an obnoxious grin spreading across his face.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she said on a smile of her own, and reached down to grab the hem of his sweater, pulling it up and over his head, effectively erasing his insufferable expression.

She brought her hands to the spongy hair on his chest, running light fingers over his pectoral muscles, then slowly lower down over his abdominals, naming his anatomy in her head as her fingers explored. Rectus abdominis, external oblique, transversus abdominis. When her fingers reached the area of the linea alba, he hissed in a breath and she felt his body react to her touch, swelling under her right thigh.

He grabbed her hands and pulled them gently away from his body, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“Turnabout is fair play, Ms. Scully,” he said, lifting up the shirt she was wearing and pulling it up and over her head.

She leaned in as his hands once again found her waist, and darted her tongue into his ear.

“That’s Dr. Scully to you,” she said, and clamped her mouth around the delicate flesh of his earlobe.

His hips responded to her, surging up as his hands held her steady--the pressure where their bodies met sharpening to an exquisite point.

The alarm clock next to the bed was an hour ahead, passed over when Daylight Savings ended. It glowed cherry red over Mulder’s left shoulder. Her mouth drifted down his neck, her tongue following the long line of tendon as his hands migrated toward her front, cupping her breasts over her bra.

The wind had once again picked up, blowing snow in soft tinks against the glass of the window. He pinched her nipple gently through the fabric and she let out an involuntary moan. She heard him laugh quietly and then he pressed his lips into her ear.

“Shhh” he shushed, and her skin broke out in gooseflesh even as sweet wine sloshed in her stomach. She felt warm and concupiscent, lusty and clear. She wanted to feel his skin on hers.

She leaned back, stood, stepped out of her pants and rid herself of her underthings. Mulder did the same, standing before her--his skin a golden bronze, his gaze intense--ithyphallic and unashamed. She laid on the bed and reached out a hand for him.

He joined her, kneeling onto the bed above her, knees pressed into the mattress between her legs. He took a moment to run his tongue slowly from beneath her navel to the point of her chin, painting her skin with his cooling breath.

His skin felt fevered on hers, but his eyes were clear and bright. He pushed into her slowly and her own eyes slammed shut, her teeth digging into her lip. He stretched her out, filled her up, and she took a moment to adjust, to enjoy.

Time seemed to stretch out, sand in the hourglass slowed to a honey drip. The bed was silent beneath them, for which she was thankful.

Seven years she had waited for this—a hymnal in the air, his overbite on her skin. What time she had wasted, what pleasure they had denied themselves. She pulled him to her, bit his shoulder, licked the teeth marks she had left. She wanted to consume him, take everything he was and absorb it like light.

She felt love-drunk, parched, caught up in chasing the high of their frenzy. He had his arms bracketed on either side of her face, and the hollow of his throat was at eye level. She darted her tongue out to taste it.

Suddenly, he reached down, grabbed her by the hips and flipped them and she found herself perched atop him, wild and wanton, his own Lady Godiva. Time caught back up to them and she gave him a wicked smile.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He still had trouble believing he had unlimited access to her compact, tight little body; she seemed all angles and edges these days with the exception of her center which was all soft, lush, wet heat--the sweet brine of her anointing him like a sacrament.

A car turned somewhere on the street, its headlights sweeping once over her, catching a freeze frame of her above him, back arched, head thrown back, mouth open.

He licked his thumb, reached between them and swept it over the tight bud at her center; she made a breathy noise in the back of her throat.

When they had finally gotten together there had never even been talk of a condom; the only thing left between them was for one of them to say “now, no more waiting.” He thought of his seed inside of her, thought of putting a baby there, an impossible gift he almost believed he could give her from sheer wanting. He’d read once that it was theorized female orgasm--unnecessary from a scientific, purely reproductive standpoint--helped by perhaps moving sperm further up into the womb, and he thought of it as he applied himself to her with a renewed vigor.

She started breathing that quick, shimmery breath that he’d only recently come to understand meant she was close, and he drove up into her as he pressed her with his thumb, encouraging her in a quiet, whispering voice. She clutched at him, fingernails digging into his hips on a hiss.

He followed her into oblivion, cresting just as the Hallelujah chorus reached the height of its crescendo in the living room below them, the sound both tinny and muffled. Mulder would associate the song with sex for the rest of his life.

The French call orgasm “the little death” and that felt right to him, proper and precise; he felt struck down and reborn in the cradle of her hips.  

She rolled off of him, to the scant empty space on the bed, and laid face down, a small smile cracking slowly up her cheek from the pillow below.

He propped himself up on an elbow and considered her naked back, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat in the dim light, her hot slip cooling on his thighs. He leaned over to kiss the dimple above her ass cheek, and he heard her chuff a laugh.

Emboldened, he ran his tongue along the ouroboros upon her back, dared not tell her that it was an ancient symbol of alchemy. Dared not tell her how fitting it was that it was branded upon her skin, that he believed she was the elixir of his immortality, that she alone gave him life.

Outside, the world was cold, tilted away from the sun. Dust collected on the nicotine tainted pages of their files, and monsters walked the earth.

Inside, she was dreamy hot skin pressed to his side. She was his cover--the alert, sharp eyes that watched his six, the love of his life.

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he said quietly, could already tell she was on the edge of sleep.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she mumbled back, and he reached for the blanket, pulled it up and over them both.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When he woke, her head was near him on the pillow, she had a crease in her cheek and she smelled of sleep. Unable to help it, he reached out and tucked a feather of hair behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Hey,” she said on a breathy smile.

“Hey,” he lobbed back.

The bed dipped in the middle under their weight and had pitched them together; her whole side was pressed to his, his own personal hot water bottle. He threw a leg over her.

The house had come to life below them, he heard cabinet doors swung closed, the soft chunk of coffee mugs on granite, gentle murmuring.

He could stay in this little bed with her all day, he thought, reading books pulled from her childhood shelves—Black Beauty, Moby Dick, A Brief History of Time. They would lock the door, make love, take sustenance only from each other.

She had an eye cracked on the pillow next to him, regarded him warmly with her cool blue stare.

“I love you,” he said, apropos of nothing.

She smiled, slowly blinked.

“They say ‘if you love something, let it go,’” she said, her voice rough from a night’s disuse.

He considered her, the peach fuzz of her skin in the early morning light.

“I don’t want to let you go. I want to hold on forever.”

To prove his point, he reached out and looped a pinky through one of her own, her hand lying close to her face on the pillow. He felt her breath puff against the hairs on the backs of his fingers, humid and warm, a humectant tropic in the tiny bed.

“It’s supposed to be a test, to see if what you love comes back to you.”

He squeezed her finger with his.

“You do always come back,” he said.

“So do you.”

They were thinking of the same things—her abduction, him lying in a hogan in New Mexico, her cancer.

It was Christmas morning, he remembered. The day already felt like a gift.

“I suppose we should get up,” Scully said, “put Matthew out of his misery.”

Mulder let go of her and stretched in the tiny bed, his feet lopping out over the end.

“How long do you think he’s been awake?” he asked, then reached for a pair of jeans.

“Oh, hours,” Scully said with a smile, and she pulled on the pair of pajama bottoms she’d brought with her. After a moment’s hesitation, she swiped the undershirt he’d worn the day before out of the sweater she’d tossed to the floor and pulled it up and over her head.

“Your family’s going to start getting ideas about us, Scully,” he joked, pleased.

“Let them,” she said, and went for the door.

They padded down the steps hand in hand, and when they reached the bottom, instead of letting go, her grip on his hand became more firm.

He followed her into the kitchen where they found everyone else milling about, all the adults wearing the pre-caffeinated shell-shocked look of a pre-dawn awakening.

Matthew cheered gleefully at their arrival, which had clearly been a pre-negotiated stipulation of gift-opening.

Bill, after giving their joined hands a long look, thrust his chin towards the counter and said “Coffee’s in the pot.”

Maggie caught her daughter’s eye before smiling into her own steaming mug like Emma of Hartfield. Charlie and Tara shared a knowing look and an arch smile.

Breakfast was eschewed in lieu of gift-opening, and Matthew ran to the tree, the adults a slow shuffling procession behind him. Gifts were passed out, opened, fawned over, played with. Thanks were shared and coffee was drunk.

There amongst her family, he felt content, happy, accepted. Scully looked at him warmly over her shoulder, and separated as they were by mounds of torn wrapping paper, he felt connected to her in a way he’d never felt connected to anyone.

She was his favorite gift. Sent to the basement to punish and dissuade him, she’d done the opposite. She was everything they hadn’t planned, antipodal to their strategy of turmoil and distrust.

She was the dawn in the night of his life.

He was glad he’d come. And so was she.

[agent-cupcake]

Dimitri x Reader - Fire Emblem Three Houses

Nobody asked, but here’s another short in my little yan!Dimitri series I decided to polish up while I had some extra time today. It references THIS

-

“I’m certain at least one of these books will contain a battle strategy usable by the fewest units possible, but I can’t seem to remember which,” Dimitri said, his back to you as he skimmed the spines of the dozens of books shelved in the Knights Hall.

You hummed in vague agreement, having hardly heard his words. Your mind was miles away, a handful of days ahead and dozing with far off thoughts of proper footwork and music, of everyone together under the warm chandelier lights, dressed up and dancing and momentarily careless. From the informal perch you’d taken on the edge of the table, your legs swung back and forth to a waltz rhythm, a sort of mock practice of your fantasy.

“At the very least, I recognize the name the Professor referenced. A famous strategist from Brigid…” Dimitri trailed off, and although his back to you, you could sense his frown. He was being a good student and looking up the military strategy you were meant to study for class, and had even been kind enough to offer his help. The problem was that you had far more pressing matters to keep your mind occupied, so you hummed again in assent, his words falling on deaf ears.

It wasn’t just you, either. Ever since the White Heron Ball had been announced, Garreg Mach had been thick with an air of excitement. Everyone was abuzz with enthusiasm about the event, even those who claimed disinterest in such things. Perhaps it was the change of pace to something positive that captured everyone’s attention so thoroughly, the ball being a happy distraction from the woes that had befallen the academy recently, but you couldn’t say you minded. It was the opposite, actually.

If only you could get a certain someone to join in. Not only was the ball coming up, but Dimitri’s birthday was approaching as well. He seemed stiffly stoic in his dismissal of both, spending half his time utterly distracted by school or training and the other half stewing in angry thoughts about the injustice of what had happened at Remire village and the foes who had escaped.

Of course, attempting to draw him into the festivities wasn’t entire selfless. You had your own thoughts you’d rather not dwell on. Remire inevitably brought to mind that dark evening you and Dimitri had spent together in that void of suspended time. Those quietly intimate hours had gone unacknowledged on his end, but you couldn’t so easily forget about it. Still, even if you had the confidence to bring it up, you knew better than to remind him of that day in any capacity. It was better to leave things as they were, better to try and forget the warmth you had felt when your hands overlapped. Better to pretend nothing had changed.

In that, the two of you were the same. You distracted yourself with occasionally forced positivity, and he by throwing himself fully into the project at hand, by feigning an air of normalcy to deal with the mundane task of school work.  

But understanding didn’t amount to your approval of his methods. Dedue noted that Dimitri wasn’t sleeping, that his headaches were getting worse. Although you didn’t have the entire story, you knew it had something to do with the Tragedy of Duscur. The horrors of Dimitri’s past and the loss of his family and everyone he cared about clung to him like a bitter shadow, and Remire had dredged all of that up. Yes, you understood as best you could, but it just wasn’t healthy. Everyone needed some levity, some distraction. This month was supposed to be better, but you could see the darkness that followed Dimitri, feel it thick in the air even when he was distracted. You badly wanted to raise Dimitri’s mood, to pull him into the light with everyone else.

As if to reflect that, your idle fantasy fed you the new idea of Dimitri dancing with you rather than some faceless suitor. Despite his status and the aspects of propriety it dictated, you found it difficult to imagine the prince dancing, or perhaps it was imagining him having the desire to dance that eluded you, especially with his recent behavior. Still, the idea of his hand on your waist and the other clasped in yours as you twirled around the ballroom wasn’t unappealing. On the contrary, you found yourself more entranced with that thought than you should have been, enough to make your face warm as you wondered what it would feel like to have his calloused hand engulfing yours entirely.

“Dimitri?” you asked, shaking away the threads of that particular fantasy before it devolved into anything dangerous.

“Yes?” he responded, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“Can you dance?”

Dimitri half turned towards you with a surprised expression, obviously caught off guard by the sudden question. You smiled innocently in case he was frustrated about your lack of interest in the assignment, but that didn’t seem to be the case. It actually seemed as if you’d unintentionally said something wrong.

“I know how to, yes,” he responded stiffly, turning away from you to shelf a book. “It’s been a long time, however. I imagine my skills are quite rusty.”

There was something more to that answer, obviously, but you weren’t sure if you were meant to ask. Silence dragged a bit as you considered what to say in response, caught between confused curiosity about the stilted awkwardness he spoke with and voicing an apology for having brought it up at all.

Before you did either, a familiar voice cut through the awkward quiet, surprising you enough to nearly knock you off your seat. Well, table.  “Oh come on, Your Highness, there’s no way you’ll get out of at least one dance. It is tradition, after all.” Sylvain, having appeared from what seemed like thin air, sidled up to Dimitri, leaning in conspiratorially and lowering his voice. “Besides, girls love a guy who can sweep them off their feet. There has to be someone who’s caught your eye…” He paused, looking over at you for a brief second. Perhaps in reaction to your surprise, his smile became even more devious and voice even softer. “I bet I can guess who it is, too.”

Dimitri’s awkwardness evolved into fairly obvious embarrassment at Sylvain’s words, and you could feel yourself catching the emotion. A girl who had caught Dimitri’s eye. Somehow, that thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably, unhappily.

“Sylvain…” Dimitri said, discomfort straining his voice and adding an edge of a warning to the name. He shot a quick glance your way, as if to sheepishly check your reaction, before narrowing his eyes at the unapologetic redhead.

“I was kidding, try to lighten up a little, Your Highness,” Sylvain responded, backtracking beneath Dimitri’s glare. “And what about you?” Sylvain continued, turning away from Dimitri to face you, his smile back in place. “You know how to dance, don’t you? I hope you’ll save one for me. I wouldn’t want to boast too much, but I promise that I’ll be the best partner you’ll ever have.” He winked, smiling at your uncertainly awkward reaction.

“Sylvain,” Dimitri repeated. The harshness of his tone surprised you. It seemed to take Sylvain aback as well. Dimitri visibly forced himself to relax, to loosen up and lighten his voice. “Was there something you needed?”

“Yeah, there is,” Sylvain said, the playful demeanor slipping and his hands rising to show his innocence. “I wanted to ask if you found the material the professor wanted us to look at for the test, but then I heard you talking about dancing and, well…” His smile resurfaced. “Anyway, I was thinking we could all study together.” Sylvain tilted his head to look directly at you, his smile becoming lopsided in a look that was most definitely charming. “Or maybe you’d be interested in some one-on-one studying. Believe it or not, I’m pretty good at this sort of thing. You and I could grab some tea together… Or we could head to my room for a little bit of privacy-”

He cut himself off before continuing with that thought, looking back at Dimitri. What he saw made the smile fall, and you didn’t blame him. Dimitri’s intimidating glare had returned, an unnerving expression on his face as he stared Sylvain down. Unnatural was the word Felix had used about Dimitri’s behavior. Unnatural certainly described that look. Sylvain, as casual as he tried to play it off, looked genuinely uncomfortable. He laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

“Calm down, Your Highness. It was just a joke, it wasn’t like I was being serious or anything.” He paused, sighing when the mood didn’t lighten up any. “Guess I’ll try my luck at the library.”

“If you are able to conduct yourself in a polite and respectful manner, I’d be more than happy to help you with finding the material the Professor assigned us to read,” Dimitri said. The dark expression was gone, his tone forced into a normal, if stiltedly awkward, cadence. 

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Sylvain responded, an easy veneer of breeziness brushed over his words and the tension therein. “There’s a really cute girl who works in the library. She'll definitely help me out if I ask the right way.” He looked at you, his lips quirking again. “Don’t forget about that dance, okay? I’ll be counting on at least one.” With a final wink, Sylvain turned and left the Knight’s Hall. Your feet weren’t swinging anymore as you watched him go.

Mostly you just felt conflicted and confused, as if you’d missed out on half the conversation. Not to mention his implication that Dimitri was interested in someone. For a split second, the Professor came to mind; the beautiful, talented, and mysterious professor, and the amount of time she and Dimitri spent together; but you tried to dismiss the thought. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t your business, either.

“I feel as if I should apologize for Sylvain’s behavior,” Dimitri said, calling your attention back to him shaking his head, placing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. His shoulders were more relaxed, at least. “I’m sure you’re accustomed to it by now, but I hope you don’t take his words too seriously. Sylvain means no harm, but his judgement can be somewhat... Problematic when it comes to women.” Dimitri’s eyes opened, his hand dropping from his face. “I’d like to say I trust him not to do anything that would hurt you, but… Perhaps it’d be better if you didn’t get too close to him.”  

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” you said slowly. “I think he really was just joking.” For reasons you didn’t dare to consider right then, you hoped very much that Sylvain had been just joking.

“He has a tendency to leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake. I’d hate to see you become one of many,” Dimitri told you. His blue gaze wasn’t stern or unnerving, but entirely uncompromising against yours as he spoke. The somewhat cruel assessment of his friend was given in a completely matter-of-fact tone. “I won’t insist, of course, but I advise you to keep a distance. Not that I think you’re incapable of holding your own, nor do I believe Sylvain to be a bad person, but...”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, managing to put on a reassuring smile. Perhaps you could see where he was coming from, Ingrid had certainly warned you away from Sylvain often enough to make you hesitant. Not that you believed the man could do anything to effectively woo you. Dimitri, at the very least, looked relieved by your words.

“That’s all I could ask.”

He turned back to the bookcase, staring down the dozens of spines and titles embossed upon them, shining with the dancing firelight. He began to pick through them once more, no further acknowledgement given to what had just transpired. The temptation to ask if they had been in a fight or something left you as well, chased away by your unwillingness to recall that dark expression onto Dimitri’s face and the seeds of unhappiness Sylvain had planted in your mind.

Those things were best dismissed, it was better if you could lighten things up. Be positive. You could be positive, ignore your discomfort. Dimitri had been teetering on the precarious precipice of rationality for awhile now, and it was up to his friends to ensure he didn’t fall into the darkness. Not again, at least.

“So...” you began in a light tone, more out of a need to fill the silence than with any clear goal of subject. As soon as you’d gotten that word out, however, the rest of them composed themselves in your mind. A question.

“Yes?” Like before, Dimitri looked over his shoulder at you, a lock of blond hair falling across his face before he brushed it away absently. Somehow, the sight stunned you. The warm depth the dancing hearth fire added to his flaxen hair, the way it affected the blue of his eyes and blushed the porcelain white of his skin. It wasn’t as if it was a secret that he was attractive, but that realization struck you anew with that casual look.

The question lingered on your tongue, begging to be spoken as you met that soft blue gaze. It was a simple question, one that Sylvain had just asked you without any of the stuttering butterflies you felt in your stomach. But this was different. Incredibly different. Asking him for a dance should have been simple, but it certainly wasn’t. Not with him, not with the pounding, racing of your heart when he looked at you right then. Too long passed with an odd doubt gnawing away at your gut, and bravery failed you completely. You couldn’t be so bold, not with the looming idea Sylvain had given you of him favoring another girl. You wouldn’t insert yourself into that with your treacherous intentions, wouldn’t risk this friendship, wouldn’t risk Dimitri while he needed a friend.

“Thank you for helping me with this, I’d never know where to begin if I had to do it alone,” you said, forcing a tight smile and avoiding his eyes by picking up one of the books sitting beside you on the table.

“Of course,” Dimitri responded. He obviously knew you’d meant to say something else, leaving a current of tension between you and a stiff posture to his back, but he didn’t comment on it. “I’m always happy to help.”

[annesurelyblythe]

the road not taken (1/1) - a shirbert one shot

Summary: Years after the events of Season 3, a chance encounter in a bookstore brings Gilbert face-to-face with an old flame causing him to reflect on his new marriage. Features Anne and Gilbert being adorable newlyweds.

Words: 2,300+          read on: AO3

Rated:  G

.

“Oh, I’m ever so nervous,” an elegantly dressed woman moaned, her astonishing auburn hair coiffured into a fetching knot at the back of her hair.

A handsome man with unruly dark curls was watching her amusedly, his hands in his pockets. “Really, darling? I couldn’t tell.”

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, recently Blythe, shot her husband a dark look before resuming her pacing. “What if no one comes?” She continued her fretting as though he hadn’t interrupted. “What if I go to speak and I open my mouth and nothing comes out? Has anyone ever been booed off the stage at a book reading?”

Gilbert Blythe had seen his wife in many a heightened state before—happiness, anger, righteousness, and sadness—but he was sure he’d never seen her this nervous before. “Anne, no one is going to boo you off the stage,” he assured her, stopping her pacing by placing his hands on her shoulders. “If anything, you should be preparing for your encore.”

Anne sighed softly, “That’s perfectly optimistic of you, but who’s going to encore little ol’ me?”

“Well,” said Gilbert playfully, taking up her hands in his. “I happen to know there’ll be a certain gentleman in the audience who’s scandalously in love with you.”

Anne laughed, catching on. “If that’s the case,” she said, “You best be sure to tell that gentleman that I am a happily married woman, but I thank him heartily for his enthusiasm.”

They exchanged enamored smiles, and Gilbert found his thumb unconsciously rubbing over the pearl ring that sat on her dainty finger.

Anne’s smile wilted a little as she took in their surroundings. It was a charming bookshop right in the heart of Boston, with a little podium at the front and rows and rows of chairs lined up facing it. Any other time she would have been thrilled to be there, but there was just one thing spoiling the otherwise perfect day.

“Oh Gil, I hope you’re not too disappointed we had to cancel our wedding trip for my book reading.”

“Disappointed?” Gilbert repeated, his brow furrowed. “Far from it! Anne, I love you more than anything. You know that we could be taking a trip all the way to the moon, and it wouldn’t matter so long as I was with you. This book is an amazing achievement, and I couldn’t possibly be prouder of you.”

Anne blushed prettily, complimenting her pale skin. “Dr. Blythe, please don’t say such things in public when I’m forbidden from showing you exactly how much I appreciate them.”

“Apologies, Mrs. Blythe,” Gilbert said, his smirk belying his contrite words. “It won’t happen again, I swear.”

The distance between them had become scant, and Anne’s lips were tantalizingly close enough that if he just dipped his head a bit, he would be able to press his mouth to hers. Ever since their wedding, it had become almost impossible for Gilbert to keep his hands, and lips, off of his bride. It was especially difficult when one had an equally willing and eager bride such as he did. Said bride was looking at him with coy green eyes that conveyed she didn’t truly mind a break in propriety.

He would have been happy to oblige her but there was a sudden clatter and ringing of a bell as the shopkeeper, a pleasantly plump woman in her late 50’s, hustled inside, shutting the door behind her. She gave a squeak of excitement as she spotted Anne and Gilbert, who parted reluctantly and with some embarrassment.

Mrs. Winthrop seemed too distracted to notice. “Oh, Miss Cuthbert—Oh, my apologies! Mrs. Blythe! There is quite the crowd gathering outside for your reading. Shall I start letting them inside?”

Anne swallowed, her hold on Gilbert’s hand tightening, but she managed a polite smile. “Yes, Mrs. Winthrop,” she said, “I suppose it’s almost time to begin.”

Anne turned away and looked up at Gilbert with renewed apprehension. He smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“You’ll be sensational, darling,” he told her confidently. “If you need any encouragement, just look for me. I’ll be right in the back, the whole time.”

She took a deep, calming breath and nodded. Gilbert watched as she made her way to the front of the room, smoothing down non-existent wrinkles on her dress. He wanted to be up there with her, but this wasn’t his moment to be in the spotlight, it was hers: her very first book reading of her very first published book. He was just about bursting with pride.

He stepped off to the side as Mrs. Winthrop opened the front doors. Almost immediately, people started trickling in: children pulling parents along, young men and women of college age, and even a few older folks with a gleam of adventure in their eyes. The children clamored to the front of the room to get good seats, each clutching a copy of the new book in their hands, talking excitedly amongst themselves.

Soon, all of the seats were filled, leaving many to stand along the sides. It was an incredible turn out, and a smile came over Gilbert's face as he spied Anne kneeling to talk to some children up near the podium, all signs of nervousness gone. She has a wonderful way with children, Gilbert thought to himself. Someday...

“Gilbert Blythe?”

Gilbert turned at the sound of his name to see a fair-haired woman, a little older than him, making her way through the crowd towards him. When she was finally in front of him, he was shocked to meet the brilliant blue eyes of Miss Winifred Rose of Charlottetown.

“Winnie?” He asked, incredulously.

She was the last person he ever expected to see in Boston, let alone that particular bookshop. It had been more than a few years since they’d last seen each other, and they hadn’t exactly parted on amicable terms. What did you say to the woman you’d once courted and almost proposed to?

“Ah ha, so it is you!” Winifred said triumphantly. She was just as statuesque and stylishly dressed as she was when they'd first met. Her eyes appraised him admiringly from top to bottom. “Gilbert Blythe, as I live and breathe! My, my, you’ve grown into quite the handsome man, haven’t you?”

Gilbert laughed, put at ease by her friendly demeanor. “And you’re even more lovelier than I remember,” he replied. “If I might ask, what are you doing in Boston?”

“Oh, I live here now,” said Winifred. She flashed her wedding ring flippantly. “My husband is heir to a shipping enterprise that calls Boston its home port. I’ve been here, why, it must be at least two years now, though we like to travel back and forth between Paris, depending on the season. But enough about me, dear Gilbert, I am very surprised to happen upon you in this bookshop. What brings you to Boston from far away P.E.I.? Are you here for the book reading?”

“You could say that,” Gilbert hedged with a smile. “The author is my wife.”

“Your wife?” Winifred echoed, in a tone that was somehow both surprised and pleased. “How extraordinary! I had not the slightest idea A.S. Cuthbert was a woman! But, who—?” She wondered, casting her eyes towards the front of the room. A small gasp escaped her as she beheld Anne, standing near the podium, speaking to Mrs. Winthrop now. “Is that—oh, but it is! Your Anne from Avonlea?”

“A.S. Cuthbert—Anne Shirley Cuthbert. Anne Blythe, now,” Gilbert added, sure he would always get a certain thrill out of saying the words. He watched Anne smile at Mrs. Winthrop, her face lighting up, and felt his own smile grow. “Her publisher insisted that she use a nom de plume for a least her first couple of books, and Anne was so enchanted by the idea of having a nom de plume that she actually agreed to it. She started writing the book shortly after we got engaged, while I was away at medical school and she was teaching, so it’s been almost a three year process.”

“Her book has become quite popular here in the States,” Winifred informed him. “You must be very proud.”

“Proud is almost too insignificant a word,” he said absentmindedly, his gaze still focused across the room.

After a moment’s silence, he realized how rude he was being and looked away from his wife to find Winifred studying him with an indulgent smile on her face.

“Love looks good on you, Dr. Blythe,” Winifred observed. She chuckled to herself. “You know, back when you broke things off with me, I thought, well, he’ll be back in a couple weeks, but you never did come back.”

“Winifred, I’m so sorry,” Gilbert started to say, but Winifred cut him off.

“Oh dear, don’t apologize!” She laughed, patting his hand. “You didn’t wound me, only my ego perhaps. It was good of you to call the whole thing off before there were any commitments made. We wouldn’t have suited each other in the end. And besides, Anne was always your destiny. I see that now.”

Gilbert smiled, glad that there were no hard feelings between them. “I’m really happy I ran into you again, Winifred.”

“As am I, Gilbert,” she replied. Her blue eyes were wistful, yet sincere as she regarded him. “I wish you and your Anne all the happiness in the world. Now, the reading looks to be beginning, and I left my niece and nephew with their nanny, so let me rejoin them. I trust I can count on you to reintroduce me to your wife later in order to procure a few signed copies?”

“Of course,” Gilbert readily agreed.

Winifred nodded in farewell and wound her way through the crowd to find her seat. Gilbert shook his head, thinking back to those turbulent years of his youth when he was sure Anne would never care for him the way he did for her. Winnie had been beautiful, witty, and easy to be with, but there’d been one crucial flaw: she wasn’t Anne.

The thing about Anne was that she had challenged him like no one else in his entire like, and not just in regards to schoolwork; she had pushed and shaped him into becoming not only a better man, but a better human being. She was pure light and warmth, and Gilbert had always been turned to her like a plant to the sun. Their love had been hard fought and full of obstacles, mostly of their own making, but he wouldn’t change their story for anything.

“Attention everyone, attention!” Mrs. Winthrop called at the front of the bookshop, jolting Gilbert back to the present. Everyone in the audience ceased their chatter, an air of anticipation among them. “It is my great pleasure to introduce you to the author of The Many Adventures of Cordelia Fitzgerald, Miss A.S. Cuthbert!”

Mrs. Winthrop started clapping and the rest of the crowd joined in, Gilbert included, as she motioned to Anne to come forward. Anne stepped up to the podium, and Gilbert could tell even from the back of the room that her nerves had returned in full force. Her wide eyes searched the audience until they found his at last. He mustered every ounce of love and assurance he could into his expression, giving her an encouraging nod that hopefully read, You can do this .

She nodded back, taking a deep, steadying breath. Before his eyes, she transformed into the poised, confident woman he knew her to be.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Winthrop,” she said, a bright smile on her face as she surveyed the audience. “And thank you all for joining me here today. It makes my heart swell a hundred times over to see that Cordelia has struck a chord with so many people. She helped me get through a very rough time in my childhood, and for that, I’ll always be indebted to her. So, without further ado, The Many Adventures of Cordelia Fitzgerald.”

Anne dove into the first chapter with the same charisma and gusto she always had when doing a recitation. The fact that it was her own writing she was reading was awe-inspiring to him. He, who had read and helped edit the book too many times to count, followed along mentally, focused entirely on Anne’s animated face as she spoke. The audience was equally enthralled, with Anne’s voice being the only sound in the room besides the turning of pages as they read along with her.

As she finished the chapter with a flourish, the assembly burst into applause, and Gilbert whistled exuberantly through his fingers. True to his word, he called for an encore, and his cheer was soon taken up by the rest of the crowd. Up at the podium, Anne smiled, practically laughing with joy and relief, her sparkling eyes finding his again across the room. He winked at her, grinning widely as she returned the saucy gesture with a wink of her own.

“Very well, very well, I’ll read the next chapter, if that will satisfy you all?” Anne asked playfully to raucous cries of approval.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she began the next chapter. They’d been married for two weeks, and sometimes he felt like he’d wake up and it’ll all have been a wonderful dream. Every morning he woke up with her in his arms he thanked his lucky stars that he had followed his heart all those years ago and not given up on Anne, even when he’d stupidly thought he had every reason to. He’d made a choice then, one that had felt hard at the time as a young man with so many expectations weighing on him. But watching his beautiful, passionate wife up there at the podium, fulfilling her dreams, he knew he would make the same choice over and over again, in any lifetime, in any universe.

It was Anne; always had been and always would be.

[aesthyuckic]

AVENOIR | l.dh - NOVEM

Genre: High School AU (at beginning) ; Tarot Reader!Witch!Hyuck

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: (will bold if in use) slow but with a purpose, belief contradictions, mentions of r*pe, blood, swearing, violence, mentions of abuse

Pairings: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) x Reader (F)

V OF WANDS: competition, conflict, rivalry

Donghyuck couldn’t seem to let go of the pendant that had very well found a home in his hand. Cosimia was in the back, too fast asleep and missing the goofy smile that resides on his face as he continued to hold it. It was strange to say, but it made him feel so special. She did make it for him after all, how could he not? Unfortunately, it probably didn’t mean as much to her.

He sighed and looked down the hall from his seat on the counter. He clearly saw her sprawled out on the bed, distant snores leaving her lips as the moon from the window lit up her skin in the dark. It made him smile slightly to himself once again. His stare moved to the counter, the amethyst remained in half beside him. Some purple dust left on the red surface that glittered slightly depending on his movement.

He cleaned it up a bit with the use of the neighbor’s broom and dustpan, only to realize he had no where to put it in the empty trailer. He left the dust pan on the counter with the broken amethyst. He figured he’d give it back to them tomorrow morning as he went back to sitting on the counter. He look at the carpet, only two bags remained in the space, filled with what they bought at the thrift store. If they knew they were going to get a trailer they may have gotten a little furniture to make the place feel more like home.

He stayed up for a little while Cosimia slept, too afraid to go lay down beside her. Mostly because he had no idea the things he felt around her as well as her only recently getting use to sleeping in the same place as he did. He didn’t want to push something she was uncomfortable with. Though he found himself sneaking into the room, quietly to find the backpack full of their things they had brought from what they use to call their home.

He grabbed the tarot cards she had given to him before sneaking out to their presumed living room. He sat in the middle of the carpet laid out with the box in front of him. He still wasn’t very good at reading them and relied on the small booklet whenever he forgot things, which was often. It didn’t do harm to practice and at this point, he didn’t see anything that could possibly answer the question he found impossible for himself.

What do I feel towards Cosimia, truly? He asked himself, or rather to the cards in his head.

Truthfully, he didn’t know all the different types of spreads and placements of them either so he just settled for one card. He picked one out of deck after dumping them out of the box and moving them around a bit. When he had the one card, he moved all the other aside and laid that one in front of him. He looked at the back of it for some time, afraid of what it would be. He finally flipped it over to reveal The Lovers.

His breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the golden drawing of the man and women who stood next to each other. The card was blunt towards him with the answer. It confirmed his suspicions as well which left him saying. He just stared at the card in his hand, unable to move or breath even. He denied it, saying the cards weren’t real once again. They couldn’t tell him anything, much less his feelings...

He had never quite felt anything the way he did when it came to her... He’d never liked anyone before and hated the fact it was happening now, at the worst possible time and with the worst possible person he could’ve chosen. He found it confusing, joyful and dreadful all at once.

He found himself acting differently around her since the beginning. His original line of thought to that being because she was able to see through him like glass and twist him around her finger because of it. That may have or may have not been the case at first but not anymore.

He still stared at the card in front of him. He remembered; it was just a card. It couldn’t possibly be able to tell him anything, let alone his feelings. He also remembered Cosimia saying the spirits picked the cards. The thought made him throw the card behind him. He was never much of a ghost believer. Even if spirits, ghosts or whatever were real, they would not have the capability to pick cards specifically for him.

He cleaned up the scattered cards on the floor, leaving the black and gold box on the counter as he went into the shared bedroom. He saw the girl curled up in a ball on the left side of bed. He found it unusual since she was fond of taking up the whole bed with her body in her sleep. He laid down next to her, leaving an obvious space in between the two of them. She faced him, unknowingly we she snored lightly.

It was cold, mostly because they had no blankets or even proper sheets yet. He looked at her, attentively as she slept unaware of his presence beside her. He didn’t even realize himself sweeping a few of the strands of her face to toss them over her shoulder until she stirred a bit in her sleep due to subtle touch. She looked peaceful and unbothered and he realized how pretty he found her. Asleep and awake. An innocent, vulnerable soul when rested but with a wise, alluring charm when awaken... He smiled, sleepily to himself before he fell with that thought while facing her.

When he woke up the next morning, he was in the same position he fell asleep in. The only thing was Cosimia was gone, her side of bed was still warm though. In his half asleep state, he wondered out into the kitchen. He could see the girl talking with someone through the guck in his eyes, not hearing much of what she was saying. The door slammed shut soon after.

“Who was that?” She asked Donghyuck.

He was quick enough to look outside the window that resided above the sink. He caught the purple ombré of long hair walk away.

“Oh, everyone calls her Choerry apparently,” He yawned. “I borrowed her dust pan and broom last night, I guess she came to get it back.”

She just stared out the screen door with her arms cross, silently. He was too dazed to notice the blush on the girl’s cheeks and the leftover signs of nervousness...

On a different note, it didn’t take long for their trailer to be filled up the next few days after they got. Some of their co-workers just gave it or where thinking about throwing the furniture out. A few things they had even bought for themselves while they continued on the road throughout the part of the country that was dry and desert.

Donghyuck had gotten use to staying up late as well. The night was the only time it was cool enough to air out the trailer to let in fresh air. He found himself laying on the yellow, plaid couch with the door open and the screen door closed. He had put on a record which he was happy to buy for himself since there was no other way to listen to music otherwise. It played softly, in the effort to make sure it didn’t wake up his friend or the others that surround them.

The reason this became apart of this nightly rountine was because he found it hard to lay down next to her. Whenever he tried to do so, his heart was quick to start beating to the point that it burned. The only way he felt any relief was to get up and get away. He was adapted to barely getting any sleep because of it too.

He started at the ceiling of the trailer, finding the way the golden light casqued onto the ceiling quite pretty. Through the soft, loving music he could hear the crickets chirp outside the door. That particular night, he found himself more exhausted than usual and fell asleep on the couch.

He woke in the morning with sun in his face, the trailer warmer than he left it last night. He judged by the stuffiness that it was ten or around that time. He was suppose to be up well over two hours ago to set the tents and booths with Cosimia like he did every morning. He sat up, quickly, rubbing his eyes while confused. Why hadn’t she woken him up? The carnival started in an hour.

Suddenly, he heard an engine rev. It was loud enough that he could feel a faint vibration of it below his feet. If he wasn’t awake then, he sure was now. He got up and rushed out the door as soon as he felt and heard the second rev of the engine. He looked down the row of trailers he was in to where it felt like it came from. Clearly, he saw someone at the end on a bright red motorcycle, dressed in all leather as well.

He couldn’t see their face due to their helmet which had cover everything. There was one more rev before they went speeding down the row at what seemed like a hundred miles per hour. The dirt and dead grass coming up from underneath the tires as the ground continued to shake. He was relieved to see them stop at the end. They even kicked the metal bar down so they could turn off the bike. The person even took off their helmet who was a boy around Donghyuck’s age.

He noticed the boy also had gray hair, only darker. For some reason, it angered him on top of the fact that the other was very pretty. He was about to start yelling at the stranger before he saw Cosimia come out of nowhere and walk up to the guy. His expression dropped at the sight as well as everything else within him. He couldn’t make out the words that came out of her mouth. It didn’t matter much though. Actions always spoke louder than words. He could see a sparkle in her eye when she looked at him, her smile seemed bigger and more genuine when she talked to him too.

He felt a noticeable heaviness in his chest that made it hard for him to breath in the most hurtful of ways. He hated it so much... Perhaps it was a good thing he was too out of it to notice that Cosimia looked at Choerry the same way the other day... Seeing her look at the other boy, she looked charmed. It made him upset, jealous rather but he didn’t want to admit that. Either way, he hated it. So much so he was unaware of the fact that he was angrily stomping over to them. It seemed to fuel the fire that she didn’t once look his way when he walked over.

He even had to fake a cough to get their attention. Their smiles dropped at the ruined momemt as they looked over to see who it was only to find a boy who looked very pissed off. The girl found it more cute than intimidating though and had to hold off her amused smile and laugh. The darker haired boy had a foot on her, much like Johnny, which meant he stood well over Donghyuck. The smaller boy just huffed to himself as he tried to stand his ground. He felt tiny though and his friend even looked tiny...

“Oh, Haechan,” Cosimia smiled. “You finally woke up!”

“Who’s the off brand ken doll?” He asked, sharply and with no filter whatsoever.

“Haechan!” She hissed. “This is Lucas! He helped me set up this morning...”

For some reason, that really just made his blood boil more.

[uncomfortable-writers]

Sugar and Spice 2 (Tony x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Marvel

Character: Tony Stark

Persona: Female 

Word Count: 3,403

Warnings: Sugar Daddy!Tony, swearing, light smut in public, NSFW

18+ Only!

A/N - Decided to turn it into a little mini series! More plot driven then just straight up smut. Enjoy <3

Read Part One Here!

Tag List: @ofmiceand-batman​ // @hulksmashin-bannerpackin //

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡

The sunlight peeked through the slight crack in the curtains, creeping softly over your closed eyelids. You groaned, shifting your head further into the pillow you were cuddling silently refusing to wake up. It was the faint smell of cologne simmering in the air and drifting innocently into your nostrils which reluctantly made your eyes open. Of course he was gone. Tony never stayed the night. He usually left soon after the deed was done, sometimes a few hours later if he craved further affection like cuddles. He must of let himself out after you’d fallen asleep. 

Hickies and scratches were the only physical evidence of your late night activities, Tony’s scent a reminder that it wasn’t just a filthy dream. Your once pristine bed now a sinful disarray of tousled sweat-stained sheets, pillows scattered on the floor along with the pink bodysuit you’d worn. You willed your heavy heart to stop dwelling on the nostalgia from last night, sometimes you just wished that when you woke up in the morning, Tony was still there. With a shake of your head you pushed the thoughts away reminding yourself that this was only a business arrangement. Sitting up on your bed you felt like you were hungover; your body ached from the unholy acts Tony inflicted upon you. You wouldn’t have it any other way though. 

Reaching out you picked up your phone. Your eyes scanned quickly over the various notifications ignoring the ones from Instagram and Snapchat, you were looking for one in particular. The little bit of naive hope you had left was diminished when you saw only a notification from your bank stating that a recent deposit had been made, “Typical”, you murmured, you didn’t know why you still hoped he’d send a good morning text, afterall when did Tony ever text you just to talk? 

“Shit!”, groaning you quickly swung your legs over the side of your bed. You were late for work. Again. There was no way your boss, Pete, would tolerate this. Because of Tony you were late for the third time this week, he always wore you into a sleep coma. 

You scowled at the burnt out candles as you grabbed a set of work clothes out of a drawer and dashed into your bathroom. A few hours late was better than not turning up at all right? It took you minutes to get ready, grabbing your already packed bag, you left to catch the bus for work hoping that you could still keep your job.

//////////\\\\\\\\\\

The journey was mundane apart from the anxiety seeping in your bones. You almost turned and bolted way from your place of work but you ignored the apprehension. You couldn’t run from all your problems in life.

Your friend Mia was the first to greet you as you entered the bustling workplace, for an office it sure was lively, “Pete’s gonna have a field day with you”, she teased waltzing past you to the break room, “Is that why you were late again?”. Mia tapped the side of her own neck with a smirk and you suddenly realised you hadn’t covered up the hickies. You couldn’t help but to grin back at her, “Mind your own business”. Mia hovered by the break room doorway to dish out one final taunt, “Y’know I don’t even know why you still work here, if I was getting what you earn in one night I’d retire for life”. You rolled your eyes at your friend, she knew about your arrangement just not who it was with although she tried on many occasions to find out. Walking over to the clock-in machine you called back, “Girl needs a hobby Mia”. 

Your mood was starting to look up, maybe today wouldn’t be as bad as you first though. Just as you were putting your clock-in sheet back into the slot, Pete popped his head around his office door, “(Y/N)! My office now!”, he did not look happy. Mia tapped your shoulder, “Good luck”, and made her way back to her desk. ‘Spoke too soon’, you thought.

Smiling sheepishly, you leaned through the open door way, “You wanted to see me?”. Your boss nodded his head and motioned for you to come fully into the room. You offered him your sweetest smile, sitting down you clasp your hands in your lap and tried to turn up your charm. He sighed. Rubbing his forehead he finally met your eyes, “I’m gonna keep this to the point (Y/N). I’m making you redundant, you’ve had too many warnings”. You put on your best puppy dog eyes, “Pete please-”, but your boss cut you off, “I told you what would happen a few days ago if you were late again. You’ve had too many chances”. You wanted to protest again. Sure you didn’t need the job but it was something to do on the side to keep a steady income, just in case of emergencies. Ultimately the arrangement you had with Tony wasn’t forever. “No ifs or buts, I want your desk cleared by the end of the day”, Pete said then he wordlessly went back to typing away on his computer signalling the conversation was over. You nodded your head and walked out of his office feeling quite frustrated. 

Your mobile vibrated against your hip. You fished it out of your pocket as you dropped onto your office chair:

From: Daddy ♡

Hey princess, daddy wants to play xoxo

Given any other circumstances and you’d be hornier than Loki’s helmet, but right now you were pissed off and defeated. 

To: Daddy ♡

Not now i’m busy 

His reply didn’t take longer than a second, almost like he was waiting for you which unbeknown to you he was. Sat alone in his huge office, on the highest floor of Stark Tower Tony grew bored of doing paperwork. His eyes lazily read through mission reports, his mind drifting to something more fun than paperwork, that something being you.

From: Daddy  ♡

So? go to the bathroom and take some pics for me ;) xo

Your patience was being tested. You scowled at your phone, you were in this mess because of Tony, “Ugh”. Mia popped her head over the cubicle at the sound of your sigh, “Trouble in paradise?”. You didn’t look at her as you typed out a blunt response, “Yeah”.

To: Daddy  ♡

I said no

Tony frowned at your text, genuinely stunned by your response. You were usually always up for whatever fun Tony wanted. He slumped back in his luxury leather chair for a few moments trying to formulate a response. When his brain came up short he rested his chin on his hand and typed a reply, confused about what had upset you so much. Tony wasn’t used to rejection, especially from you. After replying he dropped his phone onto the desk pouting, he schemed up a plan to make you happy again. You must be truly down in the dumps if you didn’t want to play with Tony when he asked.

From: Daddy  ♡ 

Okay

You didn’t grace Tony with a response able to tell that he was upset. Mia rested her head on the top of the cubicle, “Take it Pete wasn’t too nice”. You put your phone into your bag, staring at the clutter on the desk you tried to figure out what you wanted to keep and what you could trash. “Got till the end of the day to tidy this shit up and go”, you lazily spoke deciding that your nails were a lot more interesting. Mia made her way around into your cubicle, “Looks like I better help you then”.

It was around 4pm when you finally got home. 

Two small cardboard boxes were discarded by your door containing what little desk ordinates you’d deemed worthy of being saved. The rest was trashed, Mia drove you home thankfully so you didn’t have to struggle with the boxes on the bus. Your room was just as messy as you left it this morning only adding to your soured mood. Discarding your work heels you waddled over to your bed and dramatically fell onto it. As much as you wanted to sleep you could feel it evading you, much like you were avoiding checking your constantly buzzing phone. To distract yourself you decided to go job hunting, not the best way to spend a Friday evening but it was better than moping around.

You didn’t even bother to tidy up your bed sheets as you slowly opened your laptop lid and sluggishly began browsing. You phone pinged again and finally you welcomed the distraction.

Grabbing it you began to read through the notifications ignoring most of them until you came to Tony’s messages:

From: Daddy  ♡

are you free yet princess??? xoxo ---- work’s boring wanna play?? xo ---- c’mon (Y/N) u know i dont like the silent treatment :( x ---- miss u baby girl ♡

You rolled your eyes, as annoyed at him as you were, you couldn’t resist the charisma he exuded even over text.

To: Daddy ♡

sorry stressful day at work, miss u too x

The local advertisements were boring as ever, nothing was catching your eye. Mia’s words about retiring echoed in your head, maybe it was time to work full time as a sugar baby. You thought about it for a few seconds before you envisioned Tony’s reaction. He could get very jealous when he wanted, maybe you’d bring it up with him if you couldn’t find any suitable job offers.

From: Daddy ♡

it’s okay baby, get dressed im taking u out for dinner. my treat. be there soon xoxo

“Guess I’ll get ready then”, you mumbled tossing your phone onto the bed, like usual you didn’t really have a choice. Gliding over to your wardrobe you pulled the doors open and stared at the contents. Dinner with Tony meant putting on a show and splashing the cash. Plates of expensive food that costed a small fortune for only a minute portion. Wine aged for centuries and dresses fit for models. It was never simple with Tony so there was no way in hell you could get away with putting on a t-shirt and jeans.

Your hands slipped over costly gowns made of the finest silks and other fabrics, the colours wonderfully exuberant in the gentle light. All beautiful gifts from Tony. He loved to spoil you, loved to have you on his arm in some sheer, little black dress that showed your delicate curves and long legs, loved the way people would look longingly at you both, jealous that you were with each other. Time was quickly passing by as you studied each dress, they all fit you perfectly and you adored each one. Usually you would’ve asked Tony what colour his suit would be so you could match but you didn’t have time. Sighing for what felt like the billionth time that day you automatically reached for a short black one but your hand hesitated. Hovering over to a red dress you decided to switch things up. The makeup on your face was simple just like the small, black clutch you paired with your black heels.  Your phone whistled and you took that as your signal.

Skipping outside you first saw pricey convertible, you opened the passenger door and ducked in.

“Hey princess, aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes?”, Tony grinned, leaning over he placed a peck on your cheek, “Booked a place at your favourite restaurant, in your favourite booth too”. You barely had time to pull the safety belt around you before Tony pressed his foot to the peddle and jetted off.

/////////\\\\\\\\\

As much as Tony joked, complimented you and even touched you affectionately, the smile on your face didn’t quite meet your eyes and he couldn’t help but to be bothered by it.

“You know if you didn’t want to be here you could’ve just said no”, Tony half-smiled trying to keep the mood jovial although you could hear the underlying sadness in his tone. You tried to remain playful as you dismissed him, “Like you would’ve taken no for an answer”, your eyes then drifted around the restaurant. You were situated in a booth a few metres away from the other customers, almost secluded from everyone else. The booth was next to a massive window which showed the outside world below, it was dark now and the lights from various buildings lit up the night sky like fairy lights on a Christmas tree. Tony moved a little closer, his knee touching your own as he rested one of his large hands on it, “Alright you got me there but there’s something bothering you, so spill the beans (Y/N), I can’t help you otherwise”. This made your attention float back over to him; he was looking at you with such a sincere look in his wide brown eyes, he squeezed your knee encouragingly and you couldn’t help but crack before him. It was one of the reasons why you were still in an arrangement with him, Tony was so caring unlike any other man you’d ever met before.

A pouty look caused your bottom lip to jut out. Tony didn’t even try to hide his eyes glancing to them, dirty thoughts blooming in his mind. You continued to hold the expression secretly basking in knowing how it affected him. “I got fired because of you”. Finally Tony made eye contact with you, his eyebrows rising at the statement, “I got you fired? So that’s why you’ve been so pissy. Was it because of these?”, he rasped as he touched the few hickies visible on your neck and scattered just above the cut of the dress’ cleavage. Memories of last night invaded his mind and he couldn’t help but to smirk. You slapped his hand away, “No. You made me late again because I didn’t wake up in time”. Tony let his hand fall back to your knee, his eyebrows now knitted in confusion, “Sweetheart that sounds like you’re blaming me for a you problem”. You were starting to get irked again. There was truth on Tony’s part, you should’ve set alarms but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. “No it is your fault, you came round late and let me fall asleep straight after”, your emotions were obvious on your features. You were about to swat his hand off your knee but Tony tightened his grip, a sacrilegious smile plastered to him. 

“My bad princess, you’re right, it’s my fault”, Tony’s calloused fingers ghosted up your exposed thigh, “Let daddy make it up to you”.

 Your eyes widened slightly as he started to push your dress up higher, he scooted closer to you in the booth completely intoxicating you with all of his being, “What? Here?”, Tony laughed at your incredulous tone, freezing his actions as you held his wrist in place. He leaned in to kiss your neck, “Let daddy make you happy princess”. You stifled a moan as his teeth grazed across one of your bruises, your grip on his wrist temporarily loosened as the first bouts of pleasure stirred within you. Tony leaned back into the booth, his other hand came to pull you into his side to urge you to relax, your head rested on his shoulder but you weren’t entirely comfortable yet, “What if someone sees?”. Tony placed a gentle kiss to your crown, “Just relax baby, I’ve got you”. 

His finger flitted over your clothed pussy, hot to the touch, you whimpered softly involuntarily feeling your legs flinch open to allow him more room. “That’s my good girl”, Tony cooed, you gripped his bicep as you let him please you. To anyone else in the restaurant it would’ve looked like you were cuddling Tony, but little did they know he was about to be knuckle-deep in your cunt.

Tony started to rub with two fingers, ever so slightly bumping against you clit as he stroked up and down. You tried to keep your breathing even, going as far as to bite your lip. “That’s it princess, just let daddy take care of you”, he praised feeling your panties dampen. He took it as cue that you wanted more. The attention stopped ever so suddenly. Tony pulled your underwear to the side, the air was cool against your core which was burning hot. His fingers were poised over your entrance, his voice was a low whisper that commanded your attention, “Tell daddy what you want, beg for it”. Tony had gotten you so worked up from the teasing that you didn’t stop yourself from indulging him. You cheeks were dusted pink as you briefly lifted your head to see his eyes, “Please daddy, I want you to fuck me with your fingers, please”, you mewled looking sultrily at him through your lashes. “God you’re perfect princess”, he replied, leaning into kiss you. His tongue made its way into your mouth and just in time as he finally plunged his fingers into your slit, a groan erupted from you but Tony swallowed it. 

Your tongues clashed perfectly in time to the rhythm Tony’s fingers were pounding into you at. Tony was the first to pull away, his lips swollen and hair slightly tousled, “When I first saw you in that dress tonight I knew sooner or later I’d have to touch you”, Tony slowed his fingers to deliver deeper strokes. You tried to resist the urge to buck up to meet his hand by squeezing his bicep, one dodgy move and people would know what you were up to. “I can’t wait till we blow this joint because I’m going to bend you over my car and fuck you silly”. You bit your lip to suppressed a hum, Tony continued, “And that’s a promise baby girl”, his fingers sped up again. Luckily the atmosphere of the restaurant was loud enough to block out the elicit noise of Tony’s fingers squelching in your pussy.  Tony added another finger to stretch you deliciously while he used another to rub your clit in tiny circles.

“Oh god daddy”, you purred feeling yourself getting closer to orgasm. Tony started to curl his fingers deliberately to hit spots within you that usual made you scream. You teeth drew blood as you harshly bit down on the inside of your cheek. “Gonna cum for me?”, he murmured into your ear, nuzzling it with his nose. “Yes”, you said breathily. It seemed impossible but Tony went even faster, your hips wiggled ever so slightly, “Then do it”, he instructed. With a few more well placed thrusts from his fingers your pussy clenched, warmth gushed around them. Tony was sure you’d bruised his arm from how hard your fingernails were digging but he didn’t mind. He helped you to ride out your orgasm, eventually stopping his movements altogether when you were done, “Good girl”, Tony commented withdrawing his fingers, he placed your now soaked underwear back in place. A raging blush blossomed on your face as you knew there’d be a wet spot on the chair. 

Tony wickedly licked his fingers clean, “You taste sweeter than any dessert, am I forgiven now?”.

Your lungs were still heaving in your chest, “I guess so, thank you daddy”, you pecked his lips and revelled in the fact you could taste yourself on them. Tony smiled at you, “Only guess so? I can get you your old job back if you want it, all you have to do is give me the name of your boss”. You shook your head, you tugged your red dress down until it was covering you correctly, “I’ll find a new one”. The last thing you wanted was for the people at your old workplace to know you were banging the Iron Avenger. Tony still grinned at you, “I can help with that too. Can even up your allowance till we find you a suitable place”, he finished with a wink. As grateful as you were, you didn’t need him to hold your hand everywhere you went, “Thank you but I’m sure I’ll get one just fine”.

“Alright suit yourself”, he chuckled loving how self-assure you were. A waiter approached your table carrying the orders of food, “Perfect timing, we’ve worked up quite an appetite”.

[supposed2bfunny]

2doc Week Day 3-AU

Rating-T

Warnings: Just tooth-rotting fluff. Seriously, consult your dentist. 

In case y’all haven’t noticed, I’m obsessed with @trashfrog99‘s Fallen Angel AU. One day I’ll write about the other characters in it, but I have a soft spot for these two idiots in particular <3

“I’m back!” Stuart exclaimed in a sing-song voice, bursting in through the back door of his home, arms filled with flowers. Hell had a lot of red skies and barren trees, but once a year, it also gave bloom to flowers so beautiful that even demons, usually cool and blasé, worked themselves into a frenzy to collect them. One of the perks of having the forest to himself was that Stuart had learned the best places to search for the flowers over the years, and every time they came into bloom, he could collect dozens of them, filling his home with their heady scent and delicate colors, feeling absolutely luxurious.

Murdoc approached with a vase in hand, ready to help the demon display his beautiful prize. “Let me smell,” he requested.

“Uh-uh!” Stuart pulled them out of the angel’s reach, and easy feat given their height difference. “Not until I get a kiss!”

Murdoc rolled his eyes but obeyed, leaning up and meeting his lover’s mouth with a soft smile, making the demon’s tail twitch back and forth in excitement.

When the angel finally pulled back, he was rewarded with a large bouquet. The flowers were unlike any he had ever encountered in heaven; their petals were small and flecked with black and white shapes that almost seemed to form constellations, and they ranged in color from red to a deep, royal purple. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Where did you go to find so many?”

“There’s a meadow way over on the edge of the forest,” Stuart explained, handing over another fistful of flowers for the angel to arrange while he set about finding another vase or jar for their remaining bounty. “It’s almost on the edge of our town, where the mountains begin. It’s a long journey to make, but since I can fly so fast, it wasn’t too much trouble to find it. Some jerks are probably selling these flowers in the village right now for ridiculously high prices, but I can pluck as many as I want for free! Perks of being an outcast, I suppose.”

“It must be nice to be able to travel so quickly,” Murdoc said, setting the vase down on a coffee table that he had recently assembled in their living room. “Sometimes I miss being able to fly.”

There was a wistfulness to his tone, and Stuart turned, frowning. Murdoc caught him staring and quickly schooled his face into something more neutral. “It’s fine though,” he continued quickly. “I have you to take care of me. I don’t need to anymore.”

The demon strode over, placing a finger under the angel’s chin and tilting his face up to look into his eyes. Murdoc’s gaze slid sideways, too uncomfortable to hold the demon’s eyes for more than a second.

Murdoc looked good, Stuart reflected. It had been almost a year since he’d managed to get his spells and his enchantments just right, to ultimately master enough dark magic to heal Murdoc of the wounds inflicted upon him in Heaven. Though the angel continued to suffer nightmares and post traumatic stress from his days of torture, his bruises, gashes, and burns had finally disappeared from his body, freeing him from chronic pain. He had more energy and was faster and stronger now, happy to accompany Stuart into the forest for long walks, even to help repair the outside of their home (he’d looked damn good wiping sweat off his brow as he worked). Since he no longer bled all the time, he had finally allowed Stuart to buy him some quality clothes: a pair of trousers that didn’t drag through the dirt when he walked, soft moccasins for his feet, a plush shirt and a robe to replace the tattered one he came to Hell in, though he’d had to alter the clothing to allow for the angel’s wings—much larger than a demon’s—to fit through the back.

Frankly, he looked like a different person from when he’d first collapsed into Stuart’s arms. One reminder of his rebellion in Heaven remained: his wings had stayed black even through all the spells Stuart had cast, and he would clearly never fly again. It had never occurred to the demon that this was something that might upset him, but now it was clear that just because Murdoc didn’t say something didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling resentment.

“Murdoc, sweet thing, have I upset you?”

“No,” he answered quickly, jerking out of the angel’s grip. “Not at all. Forget it. I was just thinking out loud.”

“I take for granted the fact that you can’t fly,” the demon admitted. “I’ve never known you any other way. I hope I don’t make you jealous when I do.”

“You don’t! Just drop it, Stu, it’s stupid.”

Stuart watched the angel return to arranging flowers in a vase, clearly agitated. It felt wrong to just drop the conversation when the smaller man was clearly unhappy.

“I know! Why don’t I take you up into the sky with me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m being serious. It’s no trouble for me to carry you; I’ve done it a million times,” he smirked just slightly when he said it, catching the color that rose to the angel’s cheeks. Murdoc hated being vulnerable, but in their time together, Stuart had carried him more times than he could count. “So let me take you up over the treetops. We don’t have to go too high if you don’t want. Just to give you a taste of what it’s like. You’ve never seen Hell from up in the sky: it can be so beautiful! C’mon, let’s go! Please?”

Murdoc crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. As hard as he was trying to look stern, it looked more like a pout to the demon. An attempt to put up a fight because Murdoc was as strong-willed as they came. But when he saw how excited Stuart was, the stiffness melted from his shoulders and he nodded. “Only if it’ll make you happy.”

“It will!” he practically shouted, holding out his arms. “Can I carry you now, please?”

A final eye roll and the angel agreed, hooking an arm around Stuart’s shoulders as the demon effortlessly scooped him up and pushed open the door, fluttering his wings to prepare for another takeoff.

“I’m going to fly now, okay? If you get scared or want me to put you down at any point, just let me know, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, pressing close to the demon, his body language conveying the apprehension that he refused to let show on his face.

With that, Stuart pushed off the ground, his wings opening up and catching the wind with ease. He shot up over the treetops in a matter of seconds, trying to move slower than usual: he had no idea whether or not angels typically flew as fast as he did. The second Stuart stopped ascending and leveled out, Murdoc’s grip around him tightened.

“You okay?”

“Yes…” he ventured, slowly pulling back off of Stuart’s shoulder to look down.

The demon half expected him to panic, to start yelling—or worse, thrashing—and demand to be set back down on solid ground at once. Instead, he found Murdoc scanning the ground in fascination, then looking ahead.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I told you! You like it?”

“Where is the village from here? Is this as fast as you can fly? Can you show me the meadow too, or will you get too tired?”

Stuart beamed, thrilled that Murdoc was open to traveling with him. Turning around, he brought them back around towards the village where the sloped rooftops looked like dollhouses down below.

The next stop was the meadow, and, because he insisted on flying at top speed to show off how strong he was, Stuart did find himself slowing down, needing to regain his strength as the trees began to thin out, making way for the grassland where the flowers were in full bloom. He paused, just above the field, looking down at the acres and acres of vibrant flowers spread before them like an iridescent sea.

“I’ve missed this feeling of freedom,” Murdoc confessed, holding Stuart’s shoulders tight. “Thank you for bringing me up.”

“It’s my pleasure really,” he replied. “I miss you sometimes when I run errands for us. Nice to have company out here in the clouds. And well…it’s really nice to share this view with somebody. It’s been my little secret for years. Now it’s our secret, Murdoc.”

He smiled, fingertips running over the demon’s lips fondly. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought I’d never feel this thrill again with my wings being…well, broken.”

“Murdoc,” the demon waited for his lover to meet his eyes as he spoke, “you’re allowed to rely on me, you know. It doesn’t mean you’re broken. We are equals and it’s my pleasure to be able to bond with you like this. Let me be your wings from now on.”

He smiled then, a smile that he hoped was as suave and charming as he felt. The look must have worked, because Murdoc’s face flushed as he looked at the demon.

“Marry me,” he said quietly, and for just a moment, Stuart almost dropped him in surprise.

“Hey!” the angel screeched, feeling the secure grip around him starting to loosen, his hands latching onto the demon's suspenders in panic.

“Ah, sorry!” he exclaimed, holding the angel tighter than ever and descending down into the field to be safe. “I’m just tired! I need a moment to rest my wings!”

They landed and he set the angel down, observing the deep blush on his face. Murdoc busied himself with collecting some more flowers, selecting some that were in full bloom and others that were still budding, presumably so they could bloom in their house back in the woods over the course of several days.

“Hey um, Murdoc? Did you mean what you said just now, or were you just…er…emotional? Y’know, it’s been a while since you’ve been up in the air and—”

“No, I meant it, Stuart,” he interrupted, looking over his shoulder, continuing to shuffle away from the demon in clear embarrassment.

“I would love that,” he confessed, clapping his hands together in excitement, heart pounding in his chest so fast it almost hurt. “Did you seriously just ask me to marry you?! Can we? Can we get married? I didn’t know that was an option!”

Murdoc covered his face and nodded. “I, um, yeah, we can. If you want that too then…I guess we can make it uh, official. Sorry, I’m bad at this.”

“I’ll say,” he answered, his exhaustion forgotten as he began flying around the field, darting left, then right, selecting the most beautiful flowers he could find. “Let me handle this. I’m a natural!”

Returning to the angel’s side, he tucked a flower into the buttonhole of his shirt, another in his hair. Then he tugged the flushed and embarrassed Murdoc closer, placing a few flowers in his hair as well. Practically trembling with nervous excitement, he slipped down onto one knee, taking the angel’s hand in both of his own.

“Let’s make this official then,” he murmured, and he was mortified that his voice was trembling. When had his hands started shaking? “Will you be my husband, Murdoc?”

Murdoc laughed then, a soft, gentle noise that Stuart almost never got to hear. “Yes, you already know the answer, idiot! I want you to be my husband too!”

“Wonderful!” he shot up, pulling the angel into a tight hug. “Let’s get married!”

“I didn’t know demons did that,” Murdoc giggled into his shoulder. “I was too scared to ask.”

“I spent so much of my life thinking I was unlucky,” Stuart murmured, kissing the dark hair that brushed against his face. “I was always so alone, I felt like a failure. I thought I couldn’t do anything right. Now I see: all those trials made me strong. Now I’m the luckiest man alive!”

“Kiss me already, you handsome devil,” Murdoc ordered, pulling back just enough to cup the demon’s face in both hands. “I love you, you know.”

Stuart could only sigh dreamily as Murdoc kissed him, kissed him until he forgot where he was, till he lost all track of time. When they finally pulled apart, out of breath and lightheaded, the demon could only ruffle the angel’s hair.

“I should have taken you up for a fly long ago,” he said with a grin.

Murdoc removed one of the flowers from his hair and smacked him with it, but the warmth in his eyes belied his amusement. “Stop being silly, and get us back into town. We need to pick out rings.”

“You’re right,” Stuart agreed. “We have a lot of planning ahead of us.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Murdoc commented, pretending to look daunted by the task ahead.

“Maybe we should procrastinate a bit, waste some time before we have to do all that.”

“We could kiss some more?” Murdoc suggested.

“Excellent idea, my little angel! This is exactly why I’m marrying you,” he replied, laughing when Murdoc sprang forward, silencing any more snarky comments with a searing kiss.

[ladyluck852]

Fruit Tarts and Love Hearts (San x Reader)

A/N: my favorite baby boy, not even my ateez bias but I love him like he is.

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Valentine’s Day fluff, coffee shop au, softness and love. Too cheesy?

Warnings: none!

Summary: googles how not to fall in love with the cute boy who comes into the cafe almost every day, but the search comes up empty.

The wintertime was always y/n’s favorite time of the year to be working in a cafe, something about the weather just made everything feel so cozy and pretty, it was hard not to be happy even if the days were long and busy. When y/n was little she’d always dreamed of running her parents bakery, making breads and sweets and interacting with customers, she never would have guessed that she’d be running her own. When she turned 18 her parents passed down the bakery to her, gave her complete creative control, let her young mind run free so she could learn to be successful and hopefully flourish.

Always having had an eye for design and eye catching cuteness, y/n turned the small bakery into a wonderful cafe that attracted both young and older customers now, a display of pastries and coffees that were favorites among all of the returning patrons. There were lots of windows and plants, inviting decor kept a steady flow of customers and they always returned. On the days she wasn’t helping make pastries or helping out at the register, she created and printed out instructionals on how to make various origami figures for customers to do while they sat and enjoyed their food. Everyone thought she was charming, young and friendly, all the older customers loved her and she loved them.

There was just one customer in particular she was starting to grow fond of though...

Y/n didn’t truly know when he’d caught her eye, she had noticed him before but never really noticed how cute he was, always occupied with running the cafe until she stopped to look for once. He was probably around her age, bright eyes and an adorable dimpled smile, he came into the store every day and ordered fruit tarts to eat while he sat in the corner and made origami.

“Which one is your favorite?” He’d asked her, smiling when he noticed the blush on her cheeks and how cute it made her look. The cafe had recently been decorated for Valentine’s Day, a whole new pastry display created by y/n herself sitting behind the glass, San didn’t know what to get because everything looked so good.

“They’re all really good, but I like the strawberries and cream tart the most, I have a mini version if you wanna try” y/n said excitedly, always happy to recommend her favorites to customers. Her newest fruit tarts were heart shaped, filled with pastry cream and topped with whipped cream and heart cut strawberries, they were almost too cute to eat.

“I want everything” San laughed, putting his hands on his cheeks before he grabbed the newest instructable page from the counter, the origami theme of the month was love. Heart shaped boxes, cards, all the cute things for Valentine’s Day. San couldn’t remember a time when he even liked the holiday, or even considered it a holiday, something about the welcoming atmosphere and cute setup of the cafe was quickly making him change his mind.

“You could certainly have it, but would that be good for your stomach? I’m not sure,” y/n laughed, blushing even harder when he laughed along with her, “I can brew you some ginger tea”

“That’s not on the menu, I’ve checked” San said, his eyes quickly scanning the hot drink menu above her head just in case he’d missed it. The last thing he wanted was to sound like an idiot, even if he did visit almost every day now, he was running out of things to try.

“I know, it’s a secret menu item for my favorite customers” y/n winked, putting on a pair of gloves as she grabbed a tray and a plate for him.

“Actually, I kinda have to go today, I can’t stay,” San said nervously, glancing down at the counter and missing the slight look of dissapointment and sadness y/n had on briefly, “but I’ll be here tomorrow! I’ll come early too”

“You’re too good of a customer San,” y/n said sweetly, packing a few tart’s for San and throwing in an extra strawberry one. His face got hot when she said his name, like the two of them were friends instead of sort of acquaintances, “be safe okay?”

“Of course, I have to come back don’t I?”

*

“Can I get you some more tea?” A waitress asked San, noticing he had made about ten little origami hearts in the hour he’d been there, no more than half of his pastry gone. He looked troubled, like he had a long day, and he had, his day had been so long and agonizing he just wanted to relax and see y/n’s pretty face. When he arrived at the cafe, cold from the rain and tired as hell, she wasn’t there.

“Where’s y/n?” He asked quietly, feeling like he could confide in the waitress he’d never seen before, if he never saw her again he didn’t have to be so embarrassed.

“Um...she’s in the back, she’s been in the kitchen all day” the waitress said quietly, a grimace on her face that told San that things probably weren’t okay. He could bet that y/n was probably having a bad day, he wished he could do something about it, he could probably make her feel better. Then they could feel okay together.

“Oh, alright,” San sighed, “more tea would be nice, if that’s okay?”

“Of course!” The waitress chirped, smiling widely before taking his mug and disappearing into the kitchen. San sighed, he had to go home soon and just had to deal with the fact that he couldn’t always get what he wanted, it was kind of silly of him to depend on one person to make his day better anyways.

“Did someone order tea? I brought something special” y/n said softly, sliding into a chair next to San and setting down two cups of a pink liquid. It looked like paint water, oddly appetizing, and it smelled sweet and aromatic.

“Y/n, I didn’t think I’d see you today!” San laughed, his heart ready to burst out of his chest as y/n hid her face behind her mug.

“I was really busy, I’m sorry I know I’m usually here to chat, I was making some new items for my dairy and nut free customers. It was harder than I thought, but it came out nice. I also made these new milk teas” y/n said, resting her chin on her hand as she looked over the hearts San had made. She got a funny feeling in her stomach, butterflies every time she looked at him, it made her nervous and confused.

“You’re so thoughtful, most people would never think to include stuff like that in their menu’s, and I know a lot of people can’t eat certain things. You’re so kind, like a... pretty little food fairy” San said lovingly, choking on his tea when he realized what he’d said. The words weren’t intentional, he didn’t really mean to say it, but he did, and y/n was red in the face and staring at the table.

“Food fairy, that’s almost too cute”

San didn’t know what to say, because telling her she was cute was too embarrassing, he just stared at her with dreamy eyes while she made another origami heart.

“The cafe closes soon, I have to lock up” y/n said, sounding a bit sad, most likely from having a long day, “but you can stay a little longer if you’d like, I can show you the kitchen”

Y/n sent the last of her workers home, packaging a majority of the sweets for them to take home to their families in cute boxes before she let San into the kitchen. The kitchen was cuter than he thought, plants on the windows and colorful machinery, he saw y/n’s touch everywhere and wondered if she really loved what she did.

“I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that this is all you, all of your ideas, you’re kind of an amazing genius” he laughed, watching her tie a bow around a heart shaped box, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

“San, you’re so cute, you’re too nice. I like your new hair color” y/n mumbled, glancing up at him shyly as he fussed over the top of his hair.

“Oh, this? It’s...it’s alright,” he shrugged dismissively, trying to keep his cool and failing, “when my schedule is busy I’m going to dream about this place and your pastries, I don’t know how I’ll survive”

“It’ll dream about you too you know? Even when you’re not here, no one’s gonna forget you. Favorite customer, remember?” Y/n teased, holding out the heart shaped box and gesturing it towards San, “Happy Valentine’s Day”

“Oh...” he blushed, covering his mouth when he took the box from her, a letter tucked into the ribbon, “how did I get so lucky though?”

“Lucky? You’re just really great okay?” Y/n said under her breath, rubbing her cheeks that wouldn’t stop heating up, “I’m the lucky one, you come here all the time and you’re a good customer”

“Technically I’m not a customer anymore. Technically I’m your valentine,” San shrugged, giving her a cheeky smile, “I feel like nothing I could give you would be good enough”

Y/n frowned, not expecting anything in return from him at all, she just wanted to be nice and show him that she cared about him, “it is getting late, so you getting home safely is actually something I’d really like”

San watched y/n lock up, wondering how he’d survive if he let the night end without telling her how much she meant to him, how he loved seeing her all the time and how she was one of those people he could open up to and feel loved and accepted, “so I have a busy schedule this upcoming week, I won’t be able to stop by at all...”

“I’ll really miss you then,” y/n said, crossing her arms over her chest as they stood outside the cafe in the cold. San blushed, reaching over to pull her hood over her head, his stomach in knots when she put her hands over his, “thanks for being you”

“Thank you for letting me be your valentine, I didn’t know I was worthy of such things, especially not from someone as wonderful as you”

“Are you flirting with me?” Y/n laughed, closing her eyes when the butterflies wouldn’t calm down.

“You started it! Either I can keep it going like an expert or I can end it, whichever you’d like, but neither of them are going to get you out of the cold faster. Your little nose is all red and cold” San murmured, poking her nose, slowly moving closer to her.

“It’s red because I can’t stop blushing”

“Then I’ll stop flirting, but I’ll have you know that it’s going to be a good ending” San said, bending down to meet her eagerly, pulling y/n by her waist until they were pressed together. They both laughed when they bumped noses, their first kiss was awkward and sweet and loving, both of them warm and fuzzy by the time they pulled away.

“San, my heart is beating so fast! I think I’m going to pass out, you’re so cute” y/n whined, burying her face in his chest when he hugged her, squeezing her so hard until she laughed.

“I lied when I said I didn’t have anything to give you for Valentine’s Day, I just didn’t think you’d want it. That goes to show that I could be a bit more confident in myself huh?” San asked, holding her face in his hands and nearly melting from the loving look in her eyes.

“What kind of gift are we talking about?”

“Uh...” San laughed, kissing her again, not sure if he’d ever get used to it. So he was going to do it a lot, just to make sure, “my heart”

[fhimechan]

#Hannigra(ha)m Meet-Cute Challenge

Summer came back and so, inevitable like the heat wave, does our meet cute. This month, we celebrate our first artwork!

@murderfriesandgayguys filled the prompt  #1 (“B works at a bookstore and offers assistance to an embarrassed A, a customer carrying a large stack of self-help books”) with a beautiful fanart, which you can find and reblog here.

As for the fanfiction side, I finally filled a prompt, asking myself why Will should mistake his roommate for someone else. Encephalitis, that's why. You don't see enough, you see too much #3: A walks into the kitchen, half-asleep, and mistakes B for her roommate. B knows the roommate and stayed overnight; makes breakfast for A. 

These two prompts come in addition to the currently filled ones: #29: Welcome to Widdershins Close by @zigzag-wanderer #110: Fancy meeting you by @mazephoenix #74: Going My Way by @fragile-teacup #55: A Face Like Yours by @hannibalsimago #13: Admirable Deceit by @cinnamaldeide

As usual, in place of the filled prompt we chose two others scenarios which we (I) would love to see depicted in vivid details, or in gory ones, possibly in porny ones 👀

#230: A is waiting in line when they notice B who looks incredibly familiar, but A can’t quite place where they recognize them from. When they exchange glances, A smiles and says hello, thinking that they must have met before – until B says, “Do we know each other?” After talking for a few minutes A realizes that they recognize B from… um, well some amateur NSFW videos online.

#240: A stops at the pub near their house to pick up some food on the way home (they make the best fries in the neighbourhood) when A receives a phone call – and some terrible news. A starts crying and B, the bartender, asks A what’s wrong. As A opens up to them, B gives A a drink on the house, and helps talk them through it.

After @murderfriesandgayguys suggested "dancing in a nightclub" as their next prompt, we realized there's a world of wonderful ideas beyond the list we chose. Would you guys be interested in substituting the filled prompts not only with prompts from the list but also with original ones?

The complete prompt list of the month is this one, which we hope could pick your imagination.

#22: A is having a quiet night at home – that is, until A’s apartment neighbour begins blasting music. Frustration levels rising, A goes to knock on the neighbour’s door to ask them to keep it down… at the same time B, the resident on the other side, is about to. Need more detail? Click on the post.

#32: A checks into a cozy inn while on a cross-country road trip, beyond tired and ready to collapse. When A gets to the assigned room, he or she is in for a surprise! Someone else, B, is already in the room. Uh-oh.

#50: A is at his/her cousin’s wedding. At the reception, A wanders over to B, a stranger, and in the spirit of the romance and happiness in the air, asks if they’re here for the groom or the bride. B’s answer is both simple and, ultimately, confusing: “Neither.”

#116: Although A normally goes to the cafe on Thursday evenings, A’s sibling had called in tears, and s/he had been forced to miss it. So instead A goes the next evening, sitting down at a table with a fresh cup of tea, and then abruptly realized that Friday night was Speed Dating night as B slides into the chair opposite and says, “They say you and I only have five minutes, but I can tell we’re going to need longer.”

#117: A is a professional assassin hired to take out a client’s cheating husband. But the client also spoke to B, a close friend, who has made it his/her’s own mission to also kill the husband. Unfortunately, both A and B have chosen the same night to do so, and it just so happens that B is a bit clumsy… and keeps getting in A’s way.

#143: A’s blind date just left, mumbling some sort of excuse about leaving the stove on. Confused and feeling rejected, A sits orders another beer at the bar, wondering where s/he went wrong. B, who had witnessed the situation, goes over and says sympathetically, “I think I know what went wrong… there’s something in your teeth.”

#162: A is interviewing potential roommates and is having very little luck. When it comes to B, A says, “I’m so sorry, I don’t think this is going to work. I can’t live with someone that I’d like to ask out.”

#166: A is at a coffee shop and sits down at a table, only to find a book on the chair. Intrigued, A starts flipping through it, and realizes it’s actually someone’s journal that had been left behind! And it’s fascinating. Unfortunately, B, the journal’s author, rushes back to retrieve it… and is horrified to see A reading it. But A, having gotten a feel for this person through his/her writing, asks if they want to go out sometime.

#176: A works at a pet store and is utterly surprised when B bursts through the door in a hurry and walks up to the cash without looking around. Out of breath, A says, “Please don’t ask why, but what do capybaras eat?”

#180: There has been a series of recent break-ins in A’s neighbourhood. B, a cop, knocks on A’s door to recommend safety measures and to ask if A has noticed anything peculiar — A hasn’t really seen anything, but invites the cop and his/her charming smile inside for coffee and a bit of false information so s/he might stay a while.

#186: A is walking through the park at night and notices B following close behind. With every step A is getting more and more paranoid until finally, as B goes to pass A, A swivels on his/her heel and punches B in the face! Turns out, B really was just trying to quicken his/her pace to make it home in time for the hockey game.

#207: A meets B and falls immediately for them, but B clearly doesn’t feel the same. After being rejected, A calls on Anteros, the avenger of unrequited love, to exact vengeance on B.

#210: A is a writer struggling to find inspiration for their next book. The publishers are breathing down their neck and the pressure is almost more than A can take. When A comes across an old Greek book in a thrift store, A brings it home and flips through the pages…. only to come across an old chant that was supposed to bring inspiration to those who read it out loud. A gives it a shot and… oh dear. Oh, oh dear. Somehow that summoned B, one of the Muses, to A’s living room.

#215: A is brought in to the police station for questioning about a crime they know nothing about and is put in an interrogation room… with B, who is another suspect in this particular case.

#239: A is sitting in a cafe trying to casually read their book, but is distracted by B’s loud phone conversation at the table over. B tells a joke over the phone, which makes A crack up unexpectedly – B looks over at A, annoyed that they were eavesdropping, but also appreciative that at least someone liked their joke! B hangs up and offers to tell A another.

#246: A was fatally wounded in an accident and suddenly finds themself looking down at their own lifeless body in confusion. B is a reaper and offers A guidance… but A doesn’t want to do the whole follow the light bullshit. A wants to flirt with the cute reaper.

#248: A is a barista and has come to recognize the regulars and their orders. One day, B walks in and A greets them, starting to prepare their order, when B stops A with a sigh: “I’m not who you think I am.” After receiving a blank stare from A who has no idea how to respond to that, B continues, “I have a twin. I’m the other one.”

#252: A is in the public library and notices a strange book that looks like it doesn’t belong in this section. A moves along to another genre, but it seems that this book is in every section… almost like it’s following A. How peculiar! When A finally picks it up to see what exactly it is, B appears out of thin air, and simply says, “I’ve been waiting fifty years for you.”

And as always, we'd achieve nothing without the help of @hanniwinsagrahamy, @diemetzgermeisterin, @niceven-silace, @jenacar and @mistikfir, who keep spreading the word ♥

So... How do you imagine our favorite Murder Husbands first meeting? Is it lust at first sight? Is Will dying in the heat (like us all) and feeling inclined to remove his clothes? Would he rather move to Alaska? 

We're eager to read or see what your imagination can conceive. Just pick a prompt, fill it and contact me (FhimeChan) or Cinnamaldeide. We're creatures of habits and we're keeping the same nicknames on tumblr, pillowfort and now also twitter, while our complete collection can be found on AO3. Feel free to reach out for any question!

We wish you may find some tasty ideas to throw at us this summer... Have fun!!!  (＾▽＾)

[cinnamaldeide]

#Hannigraham Meet-Cute Challenge

Breathing in the tantalizing sea breeze on this wonderful merMay, we’re certainly enjoying the slow arrival of summer. There has been a lot of rain, so we spent our time in front of a computer, writing about the improbable ways in which our favourite characters would be meeting to share an umbrella, to find shelter from the ugly weather in a nice café, or simply staring at the dark sky and finding someone with whom to share its beauty. Hoping for the storm to actually provide some inspiration to you, let us present some very interesting prompts that could be combined with these menacing clouds and grey days 🌧

#1: B works at a bookstore and offers assistance to an embarrassed A, a customer carrying a large stack of self-help books.

#3: A walks into the kitchen, half-asleep, and mistakes B for her roommate. B knows the roommate and stayed overnight; makes breakfast for A. Need more details? Click on the post.

#22: A is having a quiet night at home – that is, until A’s apartment neighbour begins blasting music. Frustration levels rising, A goes to knock on the neighbour’s door to ask them to keep it down… at the same time B, the resident on the other side, is about to. Need more detail? Click on the post.

#32: A checks into a cozy inn while on a cross-country road trip, beyond tired and ready to collapse. When A gets to the assigned room, he or she is in for a surprise! Someone else, B, is already in the room. Uh-oh.

#50: A is at his/her cousin’s wedding. At the reception, A wanders over to B, a stranger, and in the spirit of the romance and happiness in the air, asks if they’re here for the groom or the bride. B’s answer is both simple and, ultimately, confusing: “Neither.”

#116: Although A normally goes to the cafe on Thursday evenings, A’s sibling had called in tears, and s/he had been forced to miss it. So instead A goes the next evening, sitting down at a table with a fresh cup of tea, and then abruptly realized that Friday night was Speed Dating night as B slides into the chair opposite and says, “They say you and I only have five minutes, but I can tell we’re going to need longer.”

#117: A is a professional assassin hired to take out a client’s cheating husband. But the client also spoke to B, a close friend, who has made it his/her’s own mission to also kill the husband. Unfortunately, both A and B have chosen the same night to do so, and it just so happens that B is a bit clumsy… and keeps getting in A’s way.

#143: A’s blind date just left, mumbling some sort of excuse about leaving the stove on. Confused and feeling rejected, A sits orders another beer at the bar, wondering where s/he went wrong. B, who had witnessed the situation, goes over and says sympathetically, “I think I know what went wrong… there’s something in your teeth.”

#162: A is interviewing potential roommates and is having very little luck. When it comes to B, A says, “I’m so sorry, I don’t think this is going to work. I can’t live with someone that I’d like to ask out.”

#166: A is at a coffee shop and sits down at a table, only to find a book on the chair. Intrigued, A starts flipping through it, and realizes it’s actually someone’s journal that had been left behind! And it’s fascinating. Unfortunately, B, the journal’s author, rushes back to retrieve it… and is horrified to see A reading it. But A, having gotten a feel for this person through his/her writing, asks if they want to go out sometime.

#176: A works at a pet store and is utterly surprised when B bursts through the door in a hurry and walks up to the cash without looking around. Out of breath, A says, “Please don’t ask why, but what do capybaras eat?”

#180: There has been a series of recent break-ins in A’s neighbourhood. B, a cop, knocks on A’s door to recommend safety measures and to ask if A has noticed anything peculiar — A hasn’t really seen anything, but invites the cop and his/her charming smile inside for coffee and a bit of false information so s/he might stay a while.

#186: A is walking through the park at night and notices B following close behind. With every step A is getting more and more paranoid until finally, as B goes to pass A, A swivels on his/her heel and punches B in the face! Turns out, B really was just trying to quicken his/her pace to make it home in time for the hockey game.

#207: A meets B and falls immediately for them, but B clearly doesn’t feel the same. After being rejected, A calls on Anteros, the avenger of unrequited love, to exact vengeance on B.

#210: A is a writer struggling to find inspiration for their next book. The publishers are breathing down their neck and the pressure is almost more than A can take. When A comes across an old Greek book in a thrift store, A brings it home and flips through the pages…. only to come across an old chant that was supposed to bring inspiration to those who read it out loud. A gives it a shot and… oh dear. Oh, oh dear. Somehow that summoned B, one of the Muses, to A’s living room.

#215: A is brought in to the police station for questioning about a crime they know nothing about and is put in an interrogation room… with B, who is another suspect in this particular case.

#239: A is sitting in a cafe trying to casually read their book, but is distracted by B’s loud phone conversation at the table over. B tells a joke over the phone, which makes A crack up unexpectedly – B looks over at A, annoyed that they were eavesdropping, but also appreciative that at least someone liked their joke! B hangs up and offers to tell A another.

#246: A was fatally wounded in an accident and suddenly finds themself looking down at their own lifeless body in confusion. B is a reaper and offers A guidance… but A doesn’t want to do the whole follow the light bullshit. A wants to flirt with the cute reaper.

#248: A is a barista and has come to recognize the regulars and their orders. One day, B walks in and A greets them, starting to prepare their order, when B stops A with a sigh: “I’m not who you think I am.” After receiving a blank stare from A who has no idea how to respond to that, B continues, “I have a twin. I’m the other one.”

#252: A is in the public library and notices a strange book that looks like it doesn’t belong in this section. A moves along to another genre, but it seems that this book is in every section… almost like it’s following A. How peculiar! When A finally picks it up to see what exactly it is, B appears out of thin air, and simply says, “I’ve been waiting fifty years for you.”

One of these was not in @fhimechan’s last post, which @mowgliscode, @diemetzgermeisterin, @hannibalsimago, @a-beautiful-day-to-be-arrested, @tigsmulii, @zigzag-wanderer, @h4nnibalism, @hhannahdarling, @fragile-teacup and @jenacar thankfully reblogged. We’re always so grateful for your help, you know we wouldn’t go anywhere on own our :/ Thank you so much!

Someone we really have to thank this month is also @niceven-silace, who decided to accept our challenge and gift us an amazing work! The night shift customer, the fic we’re talking about, is also the first to break our Hannibal Extended Universe wall, introducing Nigel! While the main pairing is still Hannigraham, we’re slowly broading our palate, officially accepting whatever HEU version of our lovely murder husbands.

Speaking of Extended Universe, Space Dogs, Basic Chicken, DogDogs, Royal Instincs and whatever other pairing crosses your mind, there’s an amazing HEU discord server if you’d like to deepen your knowledge ( ͡⚆ ͜ʖ ͡⚆) and speaking of Discord channels, Hannigram HQ has run a lovely initiative this week and some wonderful Different First Meetings has been mentioned, so sink your teeth in these beautiful stories ✧・ﾟ:*

@nera-solani recc’ed @fhimechan’s The hair of the dog @ishxallxgood recc’ed @anomalousy​’s Twisted Fates. @ethicsbecomeaesthetics​ recc’ed ache_for_him’s before you and after you @annabelle-hopkins​ recc’ed @darkmoonsigel​’s Hear My Soul Speak @jainas-art​ recc’ed @emungere​’s Something Warmer @cinnamaldeide​ recc’ed @geneticallydead​’s Clothes Make The Man (serie)

I cannot but rec all of our amazing contributions as well, all the delicious stories we managed to collect so far in these last five months!

#29: Welcome to Widdershins Close by @zigzag-wanderer #110: Fancy meeting you by @mazephoenix #74: Going My Way by @fragile-teacup #55: A Face Like Yours by @hannibalsimago #13: Admirable Deceit by @cinnamaldeide

We’re so proud of our Ao3 collection, where you can find them all, and we’d like to continue adding magic stories to it! While we wait for you to find a prompt that really really inspires you, take a look at all the others on @meetcuteprompts and our Pillowfort community. As you know, you get to choose the next prompt after you fill one of the list above, so we hope there’s always something new to propose. Cute meetings might involve some more blood than other fandoms would comfortably allow, but we’re fannibals, what’s a little bleeding between friends  (ꈍᴗꈍ)