#i genuinely enjoy practically all the characters i have yet to find one i actively dislike

[hydrachea]

2-5, 7, 13, 14, 30, 31 and 34!

(Genshin Impact ask game)

2. Who is your favorite character?

Tartaglia. It's Tartaglia, to nobody's surprise. I don't know either, I didn't think much of him before I started playing and then he stole my heart and now he means the world to me. I got him to friendship level 6 today and spent half an hour writing the poorest excuse for an essay ever in an attempt to piece his character together from canon info only. I love him so goddamn much and he's disgustingly spoiled.

3. Your favorite party?

This is my current main team (I have a secondary team with Geo Aether, Jean and Ningguang for "utility" like puzzles and mining). Double pyro for the damage, Taru as the main DPS with Yanfei as backup when he's on cooldown or enemies are immune to hydro, Thoma for the shields, and Shinobu for healing and a bit of damage now that she's C4 and has a 4-piece Ocean-Hued Clam set (both of them for elemental reactions as well). Shinobu and Yanfei are a very good Overloaded duo, and Tartaglia can pretty much murder anything on his own but a bit of Vaporize or Electro-Charged is always welcome.

4. Which characters do you have (count all of them)?

That's all of them! So 22 total, but only about 14 that actually come from the gacha since you get a lot as quest rewards. Though interestingly enough, my Dori isn't an event reward since I'm not in Sumeru yet - I just rolled her.

Just... Don't look at their levels. It's a work in progress.

5. The character you don’t have but you want soso bad?

Zhongli, oh my god I want Zhongli so badly. He's my second favorite (I expected him to be the first but we all know what happened here) and I need his shield. For my sanity.

7. Who is your least favorite character?

For playables, I'm not huge on Mona though it's more her design - she's my "least favorite" in the sense that I like everyone else more, not that I dislike her. For NPCs I still hold the grudge of a lifetime against Keijirou for how tedious his stealth mission was.

13. Favorite enemy?

Ruin guards! I used to hate fighting them but loved their design (Castle in the Sky looking guys, how could I not?) but now that I have a built DPS I hunt them for sport and I have a blast every time. Fatui Pyro Agents are a very close second, they also have great designs and fighting styles.

14. Least favorite enemy?

So far it's still Geovishaps. My shielder isn't optimal for them, and they're just very annoying to fight - a close second is any kind of Lawachurl.

30. Something you like in general.

The music. Genshin has an incredible soundtrack, and I think for me it's part of why I enjoy the game so much. Good music really adds to a gaming experience.

31. Something you dislike in general.

The controls. They aren't bad, but there's no optimal setup - I play with a controller, which is nicer to sit back and relax while I play and also gives me better camera control, but it's not great for the instruments and most importantly it makes aiming with a bow incredibly hard. A bit of a problem when your main uses a bow... But I'm not willing to switch to keyboard for that reason alone, because for almost everything else I prefer using my controller.

34. What do you think of Paimon?

I genuinely, unironically adore Paimon. I still think it's due in part to how much nicer on the ears her voice is in the CN dub, but I also grew really fond of her. She's a dear friend to my Traveler, she cares about him so damn much and he cares about her too, and she's so endearing. If something happens to her I'll burn Teyvat to the ground.

[skipppppy]

Anyway I’m bored and Carmen Sandiego renaissance is on the brain. What are these characters like when they aren’t focused on the main plot?? Non VILE/ACME/Caper related dialogue seems so few and far between.. I wish we got to see their lives outside work. So I made some headcanons abt it

CARMEN

Player was her first exposure to the outside world so she probably holds a lot of his nerdy interests close to her heart. She’s not the best at video games but plays them regardless. She especially enjoys sci-fi horror movies from the 80s that go big on practical effects

Finding random trivia about different countries is genuinely one of her favourite hobbies. The little info segments she does are not part of the edutainment show. She is genuinely just like that. This woman is a trove of fun facts please let her unleash them upon you

In the same vein she LOVES quizzes. After missions she will drag Team Red to any bar doing a trivia night in her vicinity and will wipe the floor with everyone there. Fear her

Enjoys people watching. It’s why she’s so good at charming strangers despite her socially stunted upbringing. She’ll sit alone in a busy train station for hours and watch everyone pass her by

PLAYER

Look. We know this kid is a nerd. It’s canon. But which niche of nerdiness does he fall into exactly?

Despite being an avid gamer he isn’t very competitive about it. He prefers single player rpgs, especially ones with active modding scenes. He doesn’t even know what vanilla Skyrim looks like he probably wasn’t even born yet when it released

He will, however, duo queue with Carmen on unranked Overwatch. They are both terrible at it and think it’s the funniest shit

Enjoys sitting back and watching a good speedrun. Will have a video of someone doing a stupid BOTW challenge in the background while he hacks security cameras and such

Runs a DnD campaign for Team Red which they’re all crazy invested in. Shadowsan is the only one who doesn’t care for it but he keeps rolling nat 20’s on the dumbest shit and derailing the campaign and he finds everyone’s reactions too entertaining to stop. They have a rivalry only a DM and a stupidly lucky rogue could have

ZACK

We already know he’s kind of a meathead that enjoys sports and cars and cheesy action movies but I also think he has a lot of softer hobbies that he keeps to himself bc he knows they won’t take him seriously

He’s a secret crocheter. He’ll mend the team’s clothes when they rip but that’s the extent of their knowledge. He’ll sit for hours by himself and knit while listening to music. Sometimes Shadowsan will find a new pair of socks in his bag. When Carmen got sick once she woke up with a handmade blanket draped over her. Ivy has her suspicions but doesn’t wanna intrude

He loves animals. He never really brings it up because no one ever asks. He always checks out local zoos and aquariums if he has the chance. Grew up watching Steve Irwin-esque nature shows and still does to this day

His love of eating is less out of greed and more his own form of cultural appreciation. Idk what happened to his and Ivy’s parents but for reasons he can’t explain their cooking is one of the few things he hasn’t forgotten, so he has a lot of sentimental food-based memories. And experiencing other countries cuisine connects him with that

IVY

PERIOD DRAMAS. They don’t have to be good they just have to be steamy. She enjoys the hot women in pretty dresses. She and Carmen watch Bridgerton together and laugh about how historically inaccurate it is

She LOVES renfaires and similar high fantasy roleplaying communities. Someone please buy this woman a suit of armour

As an engineering prodigy AND fantasy buff she has a massive interest in Blacksmithing and Swords. That’s her designated lesbian hobby. She’s been trying to politely worm her way into a conversation with Shadowsan about the blade he returned to his brother for months now but isn’t sure if it’s too personal of a topic for him so she’s nervous

Her sweet tooth encompasses more than just chocolate. She’s secretly grateful to Zack since he takes most of the flack for being a glutton. She makes note of any bakeries they pass by on capers so she can come back later in secret and go ham on the pastries

SHADOWSAN

I think his interest in Samurai history starts and ends with his love for Hideo. He’ll happily discuss it and he’s studied it passionately, but out of a sense of respect and duty to do right by the brother he betrayed

He will NEVER, EVER admit it to anyone but he genuinely misses the adrenaline rush from committing petty crimes. He was a criminal for over 20 years. Lifestyles are hard to shake and change isn’t linear. He’d never succumb to impulse but he’s just kinda bored

He microdoses on the urge by pranking people. Everyone always blames Zack so he never gets caught. He also enjoys sneaking up on people and making them jump. He’ll always insist it’s unintentional. It isn’t

He’ll read and meditate and train to keep himself centred but he’s still a rowdy young punk at heart. Team Red is the first taste of freedom he’s had after a lifetime of VILE faculty monitoring him. The first thing he bought for himself after settling in at the San Diego HQ was a motorbike. The second was a new tattoo. The third was a potentially lethal amount of whiskey that he drank in one sitting

JULIA

We know she has a passion for history outside her work in Law Enforcement so she definitely goes to all kinds of museums in her free time. She’s the kind of person who enjoys learning just for the sake of learning (she and Carmen have that in common)

Outside of that she’s surprisingly good at karaoke? She gets stage fright but really likes singing and will go all out if you hype her up. Her taste in music is the exact opposite of her appearance and personality. Lots and lots of death metal

An aficionado for different types of tea. She keeps like 10 flavours in her house at all times. She especially likes floral ones that taste light and sweet. She hates iced tea with a passion though

Goes to botanical gardens whenever the weather is warm and the season is right. She likes the history of the old manor houses but she also loves admiring the landscaping and the blooming flowers. She could sit on a bench surrounded by local flora and fauna for hours

DEVINEAUX

Chase is an entirely different person when he’s off the clock. The unhinged high-energy maniac who froths at the mouth about La Femme Rouge goes dormant once he gets home. Especially after he got stranded on VILE island. That really gave him some introspection about work/life balance

The biggest, softest, sappiest hopeless romantic you will ever meet in your life. Passion is just part of his nature and he gets his heart broken A LOT. It’s why he throws himself into his work

He’s a really good chef. Like REALLY good. Before he was a cop he did a few summers as a line cook in his teen years and he retained most of the knowledge. His pantry is STACKED and he tries out recipes he picked up from his ACME travels in his free time. He’s a tad snobby about it because he’s French but you will not complain about the stuff he feeds you

Old movie enjoyer. His favourites are film noirs, cheesy romances, creepy eastern european animation and german expressionism. He has a fervent hatred of Marvel

Also one of those insane people who get up at 5am to do cardio. One morning before a mission he met Agent Zari with barely a glisten of sweat on his forehead and sadly informed her that he only got to run 15k and he wished he had time to do more. That was the first time she ever knew fear

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Mind & Heart

Summary: Augusnippets 2024 Day 31. Set in a Modern AU, Sci-fi AU. Mind Full AU. Toothless can feel what Hiccup is doing.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced near Death

Rating: Teen and Up

Dead Dove: No

Words: 483

Prompts: Bonus Day - Write whatever you want.

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless

Pairing: /

Author's Notes: And so "write whatever you want" is what I did. :) My final day for Augusnippets, posted on time! An immediate follow-up to Day 30's "This Choice Is His".

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

Toothless hated the humans, he hated them. After the loss of his tailfin, he should be glad that he’s alive he supposes, but he couldn’t even bring up that much. He’s a downed dragon, he’ll never touch the sky again, he’s meant to die. And if it wasn’t for these humans keeping him captive in this sorry excuse for a man-made den, he would be already. His suffering and shame would’ve ended, they should’ve just let nature take its course.

Hiccup thought differently.

In the middle of the night, when Night Furies are supposed to be the most active, he sneaks into his den. Toothless growls, already disliking the boy. The humans think he’s so weak, so bad at being a dragon that they think this small boy is nothing to him?!

“Ah, ha-hey, um…” But Hiccup is rightfully anxious, fumbling with a lengthy roll of paper in his hands and keeping his wide-eyed gaze on the Night Fury. He’s scared and yet he’s here.

Toothless can tell that he’s like his mother, there’s a pull to him that he usually only feels with other dragons. It’s untapped, like a barrier. Humans would consider it a plastic wrapping someone should poke a hole into to get to whats inside.

“I-I made this and, uh…” Hiccup unrolls the roll and shows it to him from far away. Toothless grows silent as he takes a look. Not bothering to get up until he thinks he recognizes what’s on it. It looks like his tailfin.

“I-I have this mentor and he- and he- and he teaches me things and, uh… I think I can help you fly again.” Hiccup explains, anxiety growing as the very dangerous Night Fury quietly steps closer.

Toothless reaches out to him, grabs hold of that unseen pull, pokes a hole through that proverbial plastic wrapping and finds only genuine intention. Hiccup doesn’t want him to waste away in this fake den, a fate all the other humans have already resigned him to. There’s a brilliant head on his shoulders and he wants to use it for good.

Toothless hasn’t let go of that pull since. He’s kept tugging and tugging, until they’re able to practically read each other’s minds without even trying.

-XOXOX-

Five years later in the middle of the night, Toothless shoots awake. The cause? A debilitating emptiness in the corner of his self reserved just for his human. Something is wrong, he knows there is. That spot fills with a kind of dread he has never experienced before.

He begins clawing on the door and the one-way window, he needs to get out of here. Something is wrong and he needs to fix it. He charges up a plasma blast strong enough to tear through the mostly iron hull hidden by fake foliage. He can feel Hiccup slipping away and nothing will stand between him and saving his human.

[woongisi]

Girl Dad // Lee Hangyul

Lee Hangyul x fem!Reader // SMUT

WC// 2.59k

Synopsis// Hangyul's the hot new date you'd found. DILF by definition, and one you had to have.

Warnings// dom!Hangyul & switch!reader, breeding kink, initial use of protection, removal of said protection, mating press, brief talk of custody and separation

Author's Note// @gothlcsan you're welcome <3

---------

Lee Hangyul. You’d only known him for a couple of weeks, yet you’d already seen him covered in fruit juice, absolutely smothered in messy makeup, and doubled over due to an unfortunately placed kick. You’d met at the library, browsing in the same section of novels. He may have been looking at murder mysteries, but his arms were chocked full of children’s picture books. Barely above a whisper, you had huffed and playfully asked if the brightly colored stack was for him. He smiled and politely declined, telling you he was just gathering them for his daughter. You both laughed just a little too loud, earning a stern look from the librarian.

After you both had checked out all your books you decided to dip over to the coffee shop just down the road. The interactions you shared in the library were small but enough to leave you wanting to know more about the newfound stranger. He held the door for you, he tried to pay for your coffee, and he pulled your chair out… everything he did had you pondering whether chivalry was really dead or not.

The man’s looks were truly striking, donning clear-framed specs. His hair was a warm brown and parted down the middle, falling neatly to either side of his face. His white button-up was loose and partially unbuttoned while his darkly colored slacks were quite fitted.

You learned a lot about one another in the hour you shared, chatting over your drinks and overpriced snacks. His name was Hangyul, he’d been single for a few years now. He had a daughter who was 7 and lived with him. She seemed to be the center of his entire world. He was kind and funny, and you could feel his genuine interest in getting to know you. You were both comfortable with silence between topics, and the conversation flowed easily. Before you parted ways, his gaze lingered on you for just a little too long after you exchanged phone numbers.

Over the following weeks, you met up plenty of times whether it was his place or some little activity his daughter so badly wanted to do. He was empathetic, unafraid to do things that would’ve been considered feminine, and put his kid before all else.

**

A quiet Tuesday night, you mindlessly browsed the channels of your TV in hopes of finding something to watch. Every show seemed the same. You huffed and powered it down, almost jumping out of your skin when your phone began to ring. A smile covered your face when you grabbed it to see the characters “hangyul <3” splayed across the screen.

“Hello?” You tried to contain the excitement in your voice.

“Hey, what’re you up to?”

“I just gave up on the television… you? You sound kinda down.”

“Oh…” The line was quiet for a few seconds. “Just feeling a little lonely. That’s why I called, felt the need to chat.”

“Where’s this kiddo at?”

“It’s her mom’s week to have her. I have primary custody, so she stays with me most of the time as you know, but she sees her mother every handful of weeks.”

“Ah, must be quiet. Enjoy your relaxation time.”

“Actually… the silence is kinda driving me insane,”

You could practically hear Hangyul pouting. You understood, he spent all day in the company of others whether it was his kid or at work.

“Do you want to come over?” He continued.

“Oh? Are you sure? It’s pretty late.”

“No, no! You don’t have to, I know it might be kinda weird to be at my house when it’s just us… only if you want to.”

“I’ll be there, give me half an hour. “

You hung up, springing off the couch and flinging open your closet doors. Even if it was simple, you needed a better outfit than a massive shirt and granny panties.

In no more than 10 minutes, you started your car, plugged his address in the GPS and were on your way.

**

Walking up to the door of his apartment, you shot him a text to let him know you were there, as it had become a habit to do so you didn't wake up the kid… even if she wasn't there. Fumbling with the lock, Hangyul pulled the door open and greeted you with a big smile.

“You made it!”

“I said I would, idiot.”

Hangyul moved to the side and invited you in, offering to take your jacket for you.

You both sat on either end of the couch, almost awkward without the continued presence of his daughter. The room was quiet, cool lit, and vaguely scented like mahogany. A basket of gaudily hued kids toys rested to the right of the television.

“So, what do you wanna do?” You looked over to him, noting how he sat so daintily with his knees together and arms crossed.

“Ah, whatever you want. I'm just glad to have company. It's been a long time since I've been able to just hang out with someone this way.”

“Do you, uh…” Suddenly you felt vulnerable, embarrassed with yourself. “Do you want to cuddle?”

He nodded eagerly, silently scolding himself for being almost a little too excited.

You scooted over on the couch, positioning yourself between his legs and resting your head between his head and shoulder. Hangyul hesitantly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His free hand came to run through your hair, his fingers carefully removing any knots he got caught on. He took a deep breath, resting his cheek against you.

“I've missed this.” He muttered under his breath. “You’re so warm.”

“Mm.” You nuzzled into his neck, urging him to place the softest kiss on the top of your head. “You're always so gentle with me, Hangyul.”

Hangyul hugged you firmly, taking in the scent of your perfume. “Couldn't imagine hurting you. Not ever. Too precious to me.”

“Precious? Me?” You tried to hide the giddiness laced in your voice.

“Mhm. You know how many dates I've been on in the past few years? Too many. People tend to find it odd that I’m parenting on my own. Turned off by the fact I let the kiddo dress me up and do my makeup or pissed off with how I have to spend most of my time with her. Things like that.”

“It's endearing, I think. You're a wonderful father to her. Can't imagine thinking that's not hot.”

Hangyul’s hands fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, pondering if he should even follow through with his next move. Ah, screw it. It was worth a shot.

“Can… Can I kiss you?” In that moment he was glad you couldn't see his face, surely he was blushing. In a split second you pulled back from him and nodded eagerly.

“Of course.”

Hangyul rested his hands on your waist and took your lips into his own. He tasted faintly of coffee, you thought. Soon, his glasses were discarded to the side. Each of his small gasps made your stomach twist. Even now, he was gentle with you, only ever following your pace.

Everything about him was intoxicating to you, from his voice to his taste and everything in between. In a way you knew he was holding back. He nipped and tugged at your bottom lip, silently begging for access. Yielding, you allowed his tongue to slip between your teeth. Your tongues mingled, filling the air with wet noises and the occasional clack of your teeth brushing against his. Hangyul moved his hand to cradle the back of your head to keep you close to him. Your breath was unsteady, hinting to Hangyul that he was doing something right.

Hangyul disconnected from you, panting against your skin. “Can I be completely honest with you?”

“Duh, what is it?”

“I want you.” He swallowed his breath. “Really.”

You balled your hand into a fist, feeling your mind short circuit for a moment.

“Yeah?” You purred. “Then I’m yours.”

A shiver ran up Hangyul’s spine, giving himself a silent pep talk. He hadn't had sex in 7 years and he wasn't going to let this chance slip. He'd never felt enough chemistry toward past dates to get truly intimate… Now he was ready. The two of your scrambled to his room and climbing onto his bed.

His fitted black turtleneck highlighted the contour of his muscles. His chest, his arms, his abs. Crossing one arm over the other, he pulled the shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the corner of the room.

“May I?” Hangyul grabbed the very end of your shirt, helping you to remove it once you gave him your approval. His eyes flitted from your face to your chest shyly.

“Beautiful…”

You granted Hangyul permission to touch you, impressed by how easily he reached around you and unhooked your bra. “Black lace,” Hangyul murmured. “You were hoping for this, huh?”

“Maybe…” Your face flushed red, subconsciously positioning yourself onto his lap and grinding absentmindedly. Hangyul flinched and let a whine fall from his lips. He’d expected to be sensitive after so much time but every movement set him on fire in a way he hadn’t felt for far too long.

“Gyul,” You sighed. “I hate to be impatient, but I’m so fucking wet and I think I might die if I don’t get you inside of me right now.”

He was quick to oblige, hopping up to rummage through the side table next to the couch. Placing a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube to the side, Hangyul invited you to undo his belt buckle. The sound of the metal clanking was like music to his ears. He removed his slacks, revealing his dick.

“Hey, who are you to tease me? You were commando under that!? Guess I wasn’t the only one who was hoping for this. “ You taunted, ridding yourself of your own pants.

Hangyul was quite big, thick and adorned with fine veins. He tore open one of the condom packs, rolling the rubber down his length slowly.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hangyul cupped your check in his hand. You nodded eagerly, telling him you couldn’t possibly be more sure. You propped yourself up against the headboard and cushioned your back with a couple soft pillows.

Hangyul leaned over you, placed a kiss on your forehead, and helped you slide off your lace lined underwear. You spread your legs wide to allow Hangyul’s large form to fit between. Words of praise fell from his mouth haphazardly as he rubbed the tip of his cock through your folds. His brows furrowed at the sensation, using one hand to grope at your thigh.

“Are you ready, my love?”

“Mm, please.”

Hangyul poured a generous amount of lube onto both his cock and your pussy, allowing no chance of any painful friction. He pressed into you slowly to allow you both to adjust.

“Shit,” He grunted once he completely bottomed out. “So tight, baby, so warm.”

You whined, biting onto your hand to suppress your sounds. “You’re so big, please just fuck me.”

Hangyul started slowly, rolling his hips rhythmically back and forth. He let out a choked moan, nails digging into your thighs. His hips snapped against yours firmly, eventually locating the most sensitive area of you.

“Oh, fuck! Daddy-“

Hangyul stopped dead in his tracks, trying to process what he’d just heard. You frantically apologized, claiming you hadn’t meant to call him that way and praying he wouldn’t be freaked out.

Hangyul had never really heard or so much as considered the word in such a context. After all, it's what he was used to being called by his daughter who only recently stopped because she was “too cool” for it. Something was different when you said it, something that made him feel powerful.

“No, no,” Hangyul took a deep breath. “Say it again.”

“Oh, so Daddy likes it?” You smirked, yelping when he thrusted sharply into you.

“That's my girl.”

Despite the situation you'd found yourself in, the possessiveness behind his words almost made you feel shy. Hangyul leaned over you, propping himself up on one arm so he could look in your eyes, brushing the hair out of your face with the other. His eyes were dark, brimming with adoration, conveying a soft expression despite how he was slamming against your walls. You gave maintaining eye contact a valiant try but soon found yourself losing yourself to the pleasure, opting to clasp your hands on the back of his neck and kiss him instead.

A small sob escaped your throat, clenching tightly around Hangyul’s cock. “So full, fuck, want you in me forever.” Your quickening breath betrayed how close you were to coming undone.

“W-wait, off, take it off-” You cried and weakly attempted to push him off of you. Hangyul took the hint and pulled out, quickly discarding the condom and moving to press your legs up against your chest. His own legs over yours in a mating press.

“100% sure, baby?”

You nodded frantically and practically begged Hangyul to bury himself back into your pussy. The pace he took up was brutal, fast, and deep with his cock reaching places you hadn't felt before. Each filthy noise that accompanied every thrust pushed you both closer and closer to the edge.

“Please, Hangyul, fill me up- please, please, please,”

“Who? Who do you want to stuff your pretty little cunt with cum?”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, feeling far too good and far too spent. “You, Daddy, please breed me-”

In a few more aggressive thrusts your orgasm hit you like a truck, the tightness of every contraction sending Hangyul over the edge soon after. His grunts bordered on animalistic and in stark contrast to the filthy words spilling incoherently from his mouth, his motions were soft and loving, holding you flush against his chest as he pumped every last drop of his seed into you.

Coming down from your eyes, you both panted with exhaustion. Hangyul had nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and begun to leave light kisses along the expanse of skin.

Hangyul whispered sweet nothings into your ear, mumbling about how gorgeous you were, how much of an amazing mother you'd be, and accidentally confessing to just how much he loved you. Through your little gasps, you told him you loved him too and that if you were to carry anybody’s children you'd want them to be his.

Hangyul's eyes brimmed with tears, overwhelmed by the entire situation. When he went to pull out of you a noise of protest stopped him.

“No, stay, please, too good.”

Blinking away the tears that started to brim at his waterlines, Hangyul squeezed you tight as if you were going to evaporate.

“You… You're not gonna leave me after this, right…?”

“Of course not, silly, could never.”

A twinge of sadness caught your heart at his question, realizing his breakup had really affected him deeply. Unanimously agreeing you could clean up later, you drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, you still stuffed with Hangyul's cock and seed.

His heartbeat thudded rhythmically against his chest which only lulled you farther to dreamland, your last thoughts filled with joy at how you'd gotten so lucky to find someone like Hangyul and how much the future held.

[nedjemetsenen]

Why do Fanfic writers generally hate “constructive” criticism?

This is a topic that comes across my dash a couple times a month, but those posts generally focus on how unsolicited criticism is rude. Today, I wanted to take a moment to talk about the ways that it’s also generally useless even if you’re trying to be helpful. To do this, I will be using examples from my own comment section, but please do not seek those comments out. This post is about informing, not about creating a hate mob.

Issue One: You don't know if your criticism is already known

No story is perfect. There will always be flaws. Sometimes you find a flaw that the author can improve on. Sometimes you pick up on something that the author accepted as a flaw during the writing process for whatever reason. It may have been because they're writing for fun. It may have been because they liked the flawed version of the story better than the story without the flaw. It may be because they genuinely didn't know how to fix it, but still wanted to tell the story flaw and all.

To give an example of this, here’s an excerpt from a truly lovely comment where the person also tried to give some helpful feedback:

you did a fantastic job with the characters you altered to fit the story. They were mostly rounded and felt like whole people instead of cardboard cut-outs. However, this made the characters that you didn't change feel very flat. [List of characters] often felt like window dressing, like they were included solely because they were part of the original show.

This is exactly why those characters showed up in that fic and the issue of them being window dressing isn’t something that I introduced. It’s a flaw in the original work. To fix this issue, I would have cut these characters or merged them into one character. But this wasn’t original fiction. It was fanfiction, so I decided to sacrifice quality for the sake of honoring the source as it felt wrong to remove these guys when they’re a classic part of the roster. I also actively chose to not develop them more as it would have killed the pacing and added nothing to the story I was trying to tell. There are characters that I arguably should have given more screen time to in that fic, but these were not those characters.

Issue Two: Timeliness

Unless the story is newly published, you have no idea if your criticism is still useful. Even if it is newly published, how long has the fic been going for? Are you critiquing a chapter from 3 years ago or last week? Unless it’s the latest chapter, you don’t know. Even if it is the latest chapter, you don’t know when it was written. Sometimes people find an old work of theirs and just post it without editing because they don’t want to edit and they know people will enjoy the story as-is. Sometimes people write the whole fic and then post it week by week while they work on the next one.

I recently had someone ask me for some feedback on a section of dialogue and I pointed out an area for potential improvement. The person who asked for the feedback has read some of my stuff and pointed out that I’d used a similar technique in a fic and they were absolutely correct. I had. But the fic was a few years old and I simply haven’t yet taken the time to go back and edit all 100k+ of it. I write at least a quarter of a million words every year and that means that I’m always learning. It’s incredibly rare for me to reread an old piece of mine without finding something to edit. It won’t always be something major, but it’s there. Waiting. Taunting me.

Along similar lines, if you're pointing out a flaw that's specific to the story, I'm not sure what you're expecting to happen next. While some writers go back and edit old works (I certainly have), a lot of writers consider older works done and prefer to focus on new ones.

Issue Three: Most people are shockingly bad at giving good constructive criticism.

Constructive criticism is a skill that you have to learn and practice. It’s also genuinely difficult to learn as it's the difference between helping a person tell the story that you want to read and helping them tell the best version of the story that they want to tell. The first is not good crit, but it is the crit that most people give.

There are times when I’ll beta for a fic and think “that character would never do that”, but that’s terrible feedback because I’m imposing my version of the character over the author’s take on the character and they’re not trying to tell a story with my headcanons. They’re using theirs and my job as an editor/beta is to accept that and help them tell their story as best they can.

I've also been given feedback like this. Here’s an excerpt from a comment where someone pointed out something that they didn’t like in one of my fics:

it's cute to see him like this once in a while but he's a grown man and "adorable" feels a little out of place in this situation

This is utterly useless feedback and I will die on that hill. In my opinion, I wrote this character perfectly because this is how I see him. It’s my headcanon and the version of him that you'll see in all of my fics. What’s funny is that I actually think that I got the female lead in this story a bit wrong. I should have toned her down, but this was early in my journey to learn these characters and then we’re back to issue two.

Final Thoughts

If an author asks for constructive criticism, then absolutely feel free to give it to them, but if you've ever wondered why most authors don't, the above is probably why. It's why I only welcome grammatical corrections and historical/cultural accuracy corrections on my own fics. Those are the only comments that I've ever found useful.

There are times when I seek out other types of feedback. I just don't get it from random readers after the story is already published. I get it from select individuals during the writing process and that's the feedback process favored by most writers as it's the one that's most likely to lead to improvement.

If you ever come across a fic that you love, but you feel like it could use an editor, my advice is to leave a comment saying how much you love the story and then offer to beta read (the fandom word for an editor. No I don't know why fandom has a different definition for that word than the definition used in the publishing industry. It just is what it is.) And if you don't want to take the time to beta for someone, that's okay! But if you don't want to make the massive time commitment to truly help the person improve, then maybe don't give unsolicited feedback that's more likely to make them stop writing altogether? I promise you, that person will improve on their own just by writing more. I certainly did! If you read the fanfic that I wrote when I was 13, you'd be shocked by how bad it is compared to my current stuff.

I personally consider that fact a source of pride.

[whirlwindwonderland]

Memoir: 1, 14, 23; Endymion: 1, 21, 23; Almond: 1, 5, 16; & for whoever you want 11

Memoir:

1) What’s your chosen OC’s favorite color? Least favorite?

Favorites are Green, Red, and Gold, because he associates them with people he loves, least favorite is White, because nothing good ever comes from someone dressed in all white.

14) Does your OC have any superstitions? Good luck rituals? Do they believe in and/or practice the arcane arts?

You'd think with all his shenaniganery, Memoir would be at least a little superstitious, but you'd actually be wrong. While he does do magic (After all, he's a warlock), and have certain habits like checking his internal timer every hour, and writing in his journals, active superstition isn't really on Memoir's radar.

23) What is your OC’s dream? What will they do once they’ve achieved it? Are they done and they disappear into the sunset or will they find a new goal/dream?

He's... Not really sure. Memoir wanted to become a lawyer, and he did that. He wanted to help people, and he's doing that. He doesn't really have an active goal in life, he mostly just does his best where he can and helps others as he knows how. Mostly he wants to make sure everyone gets through the current plot okay.

Endymion:

1) What’s your chosen OC’s favorite color? Least favorite?

His favorite color is wine red/burgundy, the color of his mentor's cloak, and he doesn't really have a least favorite color! All colors are nice.

21) What sets your OC off? What will make them go from a docile little lamb to a rampaging, fire-breathing dragon?

Endymion is a very very relaxed and mellow character. His most dramatic reaction in most cases is an eyebrow raise, folded arms, or a flat look. But if you press the right buttons. If you are the kind of person who deliberately, and gleefully, hurts the people around you, especially if they're people you're meant to care about? If you abuse and take advantage of people around you, refuse to change your behavior, refuse to apologize or get better? That makes Endymion angry. That's the sort of thing that will get a pickaxe swung at you by someone who can split even the hardest ores with two strikes. Tread lightly.

23) What is your OC’s dream? What will they do once they’ve achieved it? Are they done and they disappear into the sunset or will they find a new goal/dream?

Endymion just wants to go home. He doesn't have a dream, doesn't have a goal or an objective. He used to! He used to dream of being a good Spiritfarer, of aiding his passengers in passing on until no one was left, and then passing on to the stars himself. He worked at that dream for years and years and years only to find out it wasn't meant to be. Now he's just really tired, and really wants to go home.

Almond:

1) What’s your chosen OC’s favorite color? Least favorite?

He's got a real fondness for red. Good strong color, red is. Vibrant. Passionate. A real lively color.

He's not the biggest fan of grey.

5. What do they like to do in their free time? Do they have any hobbies? Do they even have free time?

This man? Free time? Fat chance. Almond will have free time when he's dead, and let's be honest he'll probably keep being a workaholic in the afterlife. When he was younger he enjoyed experimenting with magic, dark, light, and in between. And while he doesn't have much time to do that anymore, he does get to use what he learned from those experiments at work.

16. How organized is your OC? Do they like to have a place for everything and everything in its place, or do they live inside a tornado of chaos and mayhem?

Almond will swear up down left right and inside out that he's very organized and has a system for everything. But no one believes him because from what anyone can see, his office constantly looks like it's been ransacked. And yet, he genuinely can always find what he needs.

Character of my choice:

11. Tell me a random useless fact about your OC.

Hmmm let's go with Bondlock since I don't get to play with him often.

Bondlock's least favorite task at the theatre he works at is concessions sales. He hates the smell of popcorn and the little wisps of cotton candy that always get stuck in his hair.

[denble]

FFVII Remake, what are they thinking with Aerith?!

Continuing from the previous post.

First of all, Aerith has never been my favorite character. Back in the day (25 years go), I simply preferred Tifa because I liked bare-hand fighting, and because I disliked pink, mage, and physically weak character. I didn't understand a damn thing so it was never about characterization. (Not that I still later use Tifa in my party anyway, there are stronger characters, her Ultimate Weapon sucks, and her Limit Break is hard to play to the max).

During my most recent OG replay, I find Aerith not as bad as I thought, character-wise.

But damn, what did they do to her in the Remake (I haven't played Rebirth yet). While I do enjoy some aspect of her character (her immediate genuine friendship with Tifa), understand other aspects (her melancholic loneliness and her knowing-it-all attitude), I just couldn't see how her flirting with Cloud fits in her other character traits. I know it was there in the OG, but the way SE handles it makes her extremely annoying and downright unlikeable. I'm not even sure if the writers like her or not. The way I see it, all her interaction with Cloud being there is neither for her character development nor her and Cloud relationship development (heck, there was none in the OG if you ask me; after Midgar, they barely interact on a personal level) but for her fans and her fans alone. Because they are the only people who care about her being all cutesy and pushy over Cloud. Not even Cloud gives a damn about her. SE MAKE VERY SURE OF IT. I was baffled at how they cut off one of the very few instances that you can say Aerith breaks through Cloud's façade: the laugh he shared with her during the rooftop traverse in the OG.

They also MAKE SURE that while they give her and Cloud a fair amount of seemingly special moments, if you pay attention, everything Cloud does with her, Cloud already did with others. Her fans won't notice anything else beside her so they can always enjoy her presence, while others can clearly see that there actually nothing unique going on.

Rooftop traverse. Cloud already did it alone during Chapter 2

High Ten. If this counts, Jessie already fist bumped Cloud at the end of Chapter 4, when they are about to parachuting down to the Slum. And later, the High Ten became Aerith and Tifa's signature move. Cloud was there only as a practice target ._.

Cloud proposes to see her home. Cloud already saw Wedge home by the end of Chapter 4.

Her breaking Cloud's iciness. Not counting Tifa, the Avalanche trio already does that.

The princess carry. Cloud already, at his own will, carries Jessie princess-style in Chapter 4 when she sprains her ankle.

To be honest, I think Aerith would be much more likeable had SE toned down the pushiness. Even Jessie seems more tolerable than Aerith in this regard (poor Cloud) because it's stated (by Wedge) that "everything is just a game to her" whereas I can't tell what Aerith is really thinking. Aerith was playful in the OG, not borderline harassing like she is portrayed in the Remake.

But if I have to guess, because they decide to make Cloud extremely passive to her, she has to be more "active" in order to make the fans believe there's something going on... Her whole relationship with Cloud in Remake just feels like a filler to her main character in the game.

Oh well, if that makes the game sale, so be it. I want to like her but can't, so be it. Good thing that she's not as useless in combat as she was in the OG so I still enjoy that aspect. And her friendship with Tifa is very endearing to watch (I always have a soft spot for bromance and friends caring for each other).

[aminiatureworld]

Disappearance II

Character: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,149

Warnings: None

Premise: In which there is an argument and the reader disappears.

Author’s Note: Idk why I’ve characterized Albedo as a slob twice now. I guess I just think he’s the kind of person to become so engrossed in his research he just, never takes care of himself or his surroundings.

Also this was supposed to be two people but I procrastinated terribly so… here we are haha. Part three tomorrow.

Albedo

It was the third time this week that you had managed to spill his lab notes all over the floor, and frankly Albedo wasn’t sure if he could deal with it any longer.

“You’ve got a lot of papers strewn around,” you said, tone light and joking as you crouched to gather all the papers up.

“You’re the one that keeps bumping into things,” Albedo mumbled, crouching next to you to make sure that you put things back in order.

Seeing that you were putting things together haphazardly he snatched up the papers, frowning slightly as he went through the papers. Honestly, how could you mess up his system so much? As much as Albedo appreciated your interest in his work you were a Knight of Favonius, not a scientist, and as such your visits seemed to cause havoc more than anything else.

“Do you want me to help you with that?” You asked, exasperation creeping into your tone.

“No.”

“Are you sure? You seem, stressed. If you want I could pick up the papers on the tables and organize.”

“Don’t!”

“Albedo?” You leaned back slightly, as if surprised. For some reason that only made the alchemist more irritated.

“If you do that, you’ll just be creating more work for me. I’m very busy right now, I don’t have time to go back and fix your mistakes.”

“Mistakes?”

“It’s already enough that you keep spilling things all over the ground.”

“It’s not my fault that you leave your papers everywhere without even trying to keep them organized.”

“They are organized!”

“Well they certainly don’t look organized to me.”

“You just don’t understand. Besides, I’ve managed not to knock everything over.”

“You know, you’re insufferable when you get like this.”

“I’m not any different than usual.”

“I hope you don’t really think that,” you replied, tone clipped.

Standing up you turned towards the door. Though Albedo made a half-hearted call of your name you didn’t react, simply walking out of the room and slamming the door as hard as possible behind you.

Albedo didn’t even think of you the rest of the afternoon. Anger iced over his slight worry, replacing it with a burning sense of resentment. Your sudden departure stung, and, though it was admittedly childish, Albedo found himself determined not to worry about you.

Besides, you were simply an obstacle to his research at this point. Maybe it was better if you went off to cool your head somewhere, then he could finish up his work. That was what usually happened with other people anyways. Apprentices, clients, the occasional wandering alchemist; they all fluttered around him until he couldn’t stand it and then when they inevitably got fed up he’d finish his work. His relationship with you was still new, and though he couldn’t say that you were the same as all those people in his eyes, he really had no reason to think you would react in a different way.

The sun had gone down long before Albedo finally locked up for the night. It had taken him a good forty minutes to reorganize everything that had fallen, though admittedly most of that time was spent in angry silence. Now as Albedo walked down the streets, still busy with night activity, he wondered what might happen when he got home. He certainly wasn’t ready to apologize, even if his tone was a bit curt his words weren’t wrong; but he couldn’t exactly see you apologizing either. It was bound to be a tense evening. One Albedo was certainly not looking forward too.

All the lights were off in the apartment, something that struck Albedo as odd. Walking towards the kitchen he found a piece of paper crumpled up on the kitchen floor, though when he uncrumpled the paper he was met with eraser marks. Letting out a huff of impatience Albedo went to put some water on the stove. So this is how the evening was going to pass; you presumably at a friend’s house, Albedo in stony silence.

“How petty,” Albedo murmured.

He didn’t expect such a show of emotions from you, having come to the conclusion that you were quite the rational sort. Really, this was all too much. He had been in the right after all, even if he had been a bit cold about it. There was no reason to react in such a way. It was this mindset that carried Albedo through the rest of the evening and off to sleep. After all, it was better than the kernel of doubt that rested in the back of his head, that told him he was the one being callous.

You didn’t show up at the apartment or the lab the next day. Albedo buckled down to work, but by midday the irritation and anger that he’d been holding over were replaced by a deep sense of unease. Hurrying home after work he felt panic shoot through him at the sight of your home empty, nothing suggesting anyone had been there in the time he was at work.

It took all of Albedo’s willpower not to run out the door and go look for you. All the anger and irritation he had felt had been thrown out the window, replaced instead with an intense feeling of worry, and of the realization that his actions might bear actual consequences.

Tossing and turning in bed Albedo stared up at the empty ceiling. He had been certain he was in the right, even this morning. You were clumsy, you had been inconsiderate of his work, you were simply stubborn and petty. Now however he replayed your argument, your fight, over and over again. The more he did so the more he became aware of how harshly he’d acted; the more he wished you would simply appear in front of him so he could apologize. He wanted to go after you, wanted to let you know that he genuinely felt bad. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so, to go after you. After all, what if you didn’t want to see him? What if he just made things worse? Once more turning in bed Albedo sighed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d see you again. Tomorrow he’d make things better.

There was no sight of you tomorrow either. Albedo stood in his lab in stunned silence, heart hammering in his chest as he contemplated what this could possibly mean. Was this it then? Had he messed up that badly?

Staring around him Albedo noticed all the papers scattered this way and that on the tables and the desks. Seized by a sudden urge he scooped them all up, carrying them over to where he kept his files. A part of him jeered that it was too little too late, but still the alchemist didn’t stop until everything was filed away properly. Turning around to look at his desk he collected the dirty mugs and discarded equipment, putting them in the sink before turning around to pick through the no longer needed papers that still lay sprawled around the room. He didn’t stop for lunch, nor did he go to start back up on the experiment he was currently working on. Instead he kept picking up and putting away and rearranging. It was almost a ritual of some sort, and though it brought little relief, at least it finally brought distraction.

Still that distraction was shattered the minute Albedo stepped outside. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, and the people of Mondstadt were still wandering around, enjoy the cool summer evening. Staring at the people around him, their eyes filled either with purpose or contentment, Albedo realized he couldn’t go home. He couldn’t face the empty apartment again. He thought that his anger would last longer, that he might go a week before feeling as if he burning from the inside out; but now he knew that that had been an arrogant, if somewhat funny, assumption. Turning away from the familiar path home he climbed up the steps of Mondstadt. He knew where he needed to go.

Walking up to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters Albedo was met with the sight of Eula, arms firmly crossed in front of her, faced even colder than usual. Hurrying over to your higher-up Albedo felt uncertainty bloom in his chest. Someone this seemed to bode ill.

“Eula?”

“Ah, the Head Alchemist. What do you wish to say to me?”

“Have you seen my partner?” Albedo paused, somewhat unwilling to reveal what had happened. “They haven’t been home for days, and I wondered if you knew where they might be staying.”

The look on Eula’s face was one of pure disbelief. “You, you don’t know what happened?” Her face shadowed over and she seemed to pull herself up. “If I were your partner, I would declare eternal vengeance for your idiocy. I don’t know what you’ve been doing Head Alchemist, but while you were off doing whatever it is you do, your partner was languishing underground.”

Albedo froze, unsure if he’d truly heard Eula right. The Knight tended to be quite flowery after all with her words. Perhaps this was just a metaphor he couldn’t understand.

“I see that it still hasn’t gotten through your head what happened.” Eula sighed, relaxing slightly. “I sent them off to monitor a few Fatui members, as it seems a group had made their way out of Dragonspine and into Windwail. While doing so they attempted to hide in a small crack in the mountains, but there was a steep drop after that onto the next shelf. Thankfully Amber had also been ordered to scout there, or else who knows how long it might have took to realize they were stuck. I just got the report from them, thankfully there was no lasting trauma.”

“W-where are they?”

“At home I presume. Aren’t you their partner?” Eula tilted her head. “Really, perhaps she should declare a need for vengeance.” And with that the Spindrift Knight walked into the Headquarters, leaving Albedo reeling on the step, heart thudding as if he’d just run a hundred miles.

Albedo practically fell down the steps of Mondstadt, so desperate was he to find you, to make sure you were okay. Eula had said that there was no lasting trauma, but what that meant Albedo was completely unsure of. Had you broken anything? Had you been deprived of oxygen? These thoughts catapulted through Albedo’s brain, constricting his lungs and plunging him into a roil of incoherent emotions.

The sight of you standing in front of his lab cause Albedo to stop in his tracks. For a moment the alchemist was overwhelmed by his emotions, switching between dizzying euphoria, terrible guilt, and unending worry. He took a step forward, then another, walking slowly down the stairs, as if in fear that you might disappear or turn away. However instead of turning away when he reached the end of the steps and made his way towards the fountain you let out a sort of shudder, running towards him and throwing your arms around his neck. Albedo wrapped his arms around you in turn, feeling slightly overwhelmed from the sudden proximity, the sudden feeling of once more being able to feel your skin against his. Letting his head drop onto your shoulder Albedo breathed in deeply, centering himself with your presence, grounding himself in the knowledge that the agony of the previous days was finally over.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your shoulder.

“For what?” You whispered back.

“For not listening to you, for blaming you, for being cruel.”

“I’m also sorry.”

“Why? I was in the wrong.”

“Well, I just went off without telling you where I was going. I was going to write a note, but I was so angry I erased it.” You tightened your grasp around Albedo. “I wish I could’ve seen into the future. I never would have done something like that.”

“I don’t care about that,” Albedo ran small circles around the small of your back. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“No. I’m sorry for not being there, for not being able to help you; for doing nothing while you…” he stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

Pulling back for a moment you cupped Albedo’s face in your palms, studying his expression. Finally you bent over to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I forgive you,” you whispered, breath mingling with his.

Albedo leaned into to kiss you once more, finding that his emotions were blocking out any words he might have been able to say. Everything seemed so surreal, as if he’d been stuck in some awful nightmare that only now faded away. And yet this wasn’t a nightmare, this was reality; and Albedo would have to remember that.

For now though, he only wanted to wipe all the fear and conflict away.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - III

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Previously on…

Bruce was having yet another night without sleep. It happened often. And similar to the rest of the family, he just learned to function on very few hours of sleep.

So, he decided to make his way down to the kitchen.

But as he walked down the long hallway of bedrooms, he noticed that Y/N’s door was open. He glanced inside to see that it was empty and her bed was still neatly made from this morning. 

He looked down at this watch to see that it was almost 5AM.

A part of Bruce expected to find Y/N snacking or drinking coffee. But she wasn’t in the kitchen either.

Bruce sighed, realizing where she’d be and made his way down to the cave.

He expected to find Y/N with her eyes bloodshot and shoulders hunched over at the computers.

What he didn’t expect was to find Y/N passed out, slouched in the chair, knees in her chest and head balanced on the palm of her hand. How her elbow stayed propped up on the arm of the chair was beyond Bruce.

He smirked at the sight.

Perhaps she’d been spending too much time around the Wayne family. She was starting to adopt their bad habit of exhausting themselves.

Bruce knew she would be irritated if he moved her. But, honestly, he didn’t really care.

Carefully, Bruce slipped his arms behind her back – separating her from the chair – and then behind her knees, slowly lifting her into his arms.

Even though the movement was extremely smooth, Y/N still stirred.

“I was just taking a cat nap,” Y/N mumbled, but couldn’t even open her eyes to make the argument compelling. “I’m still working.”

“No, you’re not. Time to get some sleep.”

“Mmmm. Fine,” she slurred and tucked her head into his neck.

Bruce wasn’t sure if her mind even put together that it was him carrying her.

But he savored the closeness as he carried her out of the cave and up the stairs to the second floor of the manor.

When they got to her bedroom, Bruce put her down on the bed so softly, that she didn’t even feel it. Then he bent down to take off her shoes and unfolded the covers to tuck her in.

Just as Bruce reached the door.

Y/N woke up slightly and muttered, “Night, Bruce.”

His hand froze on the doorknob. It was so quiet that he wasn’t even sure if he had imagined it. But he couldn’t find the courage to turn and face her.

So he shut the door and let her sleep.

————

“Where’s Y/L/N?” Damian asked the table.

She usually ate breakfast with them.

“Still sleeping,” Bruce answered without looking up from the newspaper. “No one bother her today. She needs to rest,” that made him look up and give a warning look to Tim, Damian, and Dick.

Then Jason came stomping into the kitchen.

He grabbed a pastry and ate it standing up, getting crumbs all over the floor.

“Where’s ladylove?” He asked with his mouth so full that he looked like a chipmunk.

Bruce ignored him and looked back down at the paper.

But Dick frowned at him. “Don’t call her that.”

“What do you care?” Jason laughed.

Dick didn’t dignify the question with an answer. He just thrust his chair back and shoved Jason’s shoulder as he stormed past him.

“What’s his fucking deal?” Jason asked once he was out of ear shot.

“Watch your language,” Bruce warned with a glare from behind his paper.

Jason exhaled a laugh. “I’m not a kid. I also don’t live under your roof anymore.”

“And I consider that a gift,” Damian muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jason smacked the back of his head.

Damian flew out of his seat and lunged for him. “I will end you, Todd!”

“Maybe when you hit puberty, demon spawn.”

“Damian!” Bruce shouted to get his son’s attention. His son snapped to attention. But then Bruce’s tone was eerily calm when he continued with, “Control your anger.”

It was something they’d been working on since Damian arrived at the manor. Bruce guessed that Damian would always have a temper. But he needed to learn how to control it. Through time and practice, he got better.

Damian took in a deep breath, but still looked like he wanted to murder Jason.

“I will be training,” Damian announced through an irritated sigh before leaving.

Bruce glared at Jason. “Don’t push him.”

“He started it.”

“You claim you’re not a kid, so don’t act like one.”

“Speaking of kids…” Jason started with a smile.

Bruce swiftly stood up. “Don’t even try.”

Then he was gone as well, leaving just Jason and Tim.

“Well, it appears everyone is in a rather bad mood this morning,” Jason joked.

But there was no response from Tim.

“Are you sleeping with your eyes open?!?” Jason yelled.

That woke up Tim and he jumped. “Huh? What?”  

————

Y/N would’ve slept the whole day if she hadn’t smelled the coffee and breakfast.

She winced as she woke up to see if her mind was playing tricks on her.

But on top of her nightstand sat a beautiful, antique tray with a full American breakfast on it, a cup of water, a giant mug of coffee, and a little vase with a tiny flower in it – a single, pink peonie.

Y/N rubbed her eyes awake with a shy smile.

Alfred was way sneakier than she realized if he could bring in a full tray like this and not even wake her up. She must be far more exhausted than she originally thought.

But then a piece of paper caught her eye. A note.

Y/N reached for it.

In the neatest handwriting Y/N had ever seen, she read:

“Perhaps you should take the day to relax. I apologize for my behavior last night.”

Y/N snorted at the word ‘behavior.’ Everything he had done last night was passive. It was more of an energy and tension than actual behavior. But Y/N had to give him credit for being aware of it. He had annoyed her last night, especially when Dick somehow took the fall for her own actions regarding her own life.

She ate the food at a disturbingly fast rate, not realizing how starved she’d felt until taking the first bite.

She would definitely miss Alfred’s cooking when she finally left Wayne Manor… whenever the hell that would be.

Y/N hoped it was sooner rather than later.

‘No, you don’t. Liar.’ A voice said inside her head.

Once Y/N had finished eating at light speed, she threw on a pair of baggy jeans and a cropped sweatshirt. She grabbed her coffee and carried it through the hallway.

She heard typing coming from Bruce’s office. He hadn’t used the room since she starting stay at the manor. So, her curiosity got the best of her and she leaned into the doorframe.

Bruce was wearing a navy polo that fit tight on his toned body. He was behind the desk, typing on the computer with his brow folded in concentration.  

He immediately noticed her presence and looked up from his work.

“Hi,” she said shyly before she leaned her back into the doorframe and took a sip of coffee.

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“Thank you for the breakfast.”

Bruce leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I can’t take credit for the actual cooking,” he admitted with a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” Then she looked around the study. “I was on my way to the cave when I heard you in here.”

Bruce frowned at that. “I thought you were going to take the day off.”

“I think you thought I was taking the day off.” Then she raised an eyebrow and glanced at all the work spread out on his desk. “Maybe you should take a break.”

“This is Wayne Enterprises, not my…nighttime…activities.”

Y/N shrugged and sipped more coffee. “Still work.”

Bruce rubbed his face. “Guess so.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Y/N walked into the room and didn’t break eye contact. “If you take the day off, so will I.”

She expected Bruce to immediately shoot down her offer.

But he was smirking as he considered her proposition.

“Deal,” he told her before standing up and walking out from behind the desk.

He got unnecessarily close, invading her space.

Bruce held out his hand.

Y/N grinned at the formal gesture, but shook his hand.

But when their hands gripped together, the gesture no longer felt formal. It felt intimate. Y/N’s grin fell when she acknowledged it.

“What did you have in mind?” Bruce asked. He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

If he felt the same intimacy as she had, he didn’t show it.

Y/N cleared her throat. “How about something simple? Maybe a walk?”

Bruce nodded slowly. “A walk sounds good.”  

“Well, then what are we waiting for?” Y/N sassed.

He shook his head and almost rolled his eyes before gesturing to the door, silently telling her to go first.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was getting an informal tour of the grounds at Wayne Manor from the owner himself.

Y/N listened closely, genuinely finding all the history interesting. Bruce was surprisingly a good storyteller – even if he was more informative than colorful.

“I know you had a hard childhood. But it still must’ve been nice growing up in a place like this,” Y/N tried to tell him.

“I suppose so.”

He glanced at Y/N and found her giving him an encouraging look, as if she was silently begging him to say more, to share more.

But he left it at that.

“Damian is rather fond of animals. That’s why we updated the old outbuilding. He keeps his horses there…amongst other things.”

Y/N chuckled and nodded, “He was telling me about Batcow the other day.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate me telling you this, but I think Damian has enjoyed having you around – all the boys have.”

Y/N hummed and turned to fully face Bruce. “And what about you? Have you enjoyed having me around?”

“Wayne Manor is the safest place for you right now.”

“That’s not what I asked, Bruce.”

But he already knew that.

Y/N waited. Because she wasn’t going to let him ignore her question.

“Dick has taken quite a liking to you,” Bruce said quietly.

“Don’t change the subject,” Y/N snapped.

He opened his mouth to continue, but she cut him off.

“We’re not talking about me and Dick. We’re talking about me and you.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Y/n took a step closer to him. “Why did you kiss me the other night?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Did you not want me to?”

“What does it matter?” Y/N sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I want to know what you’re thinking. I thought I put up walls. But you give me nothing, Bruce. Absolutely nothing. One second I think you see me as a nuisance, then the next you’re fucking kissing me.”

“You’re not a nuisance.”

“Oh, he speaks!” Y/N threw up her arms.  

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” He asked evenly.

Always calm and collected. Overly polite. Controlled. Closed off.

“Forget it,” Y/N breathed and started walking back to the manor.

But after she was a few yards away, she realized she wanted to say one last thing and turned back around.

“Not that it matters. But I did. I did want you to kiss me.”

“Then why did you run away?” Bruce asked.

“Because I knew you would do it eventually. And I was trying to protect myself.”

-

So much for a “day off.” When Y/N was upset, she turned to her work to take her mind off of things. Was it denial? Was it displacement? She didn’t like to dwell on it. And most of the time, there was no one in her life to call her out for it.

Y/N thought she was emotionally distant, but Bruce won that race by a landslide. And she found it infuriating.

It was interactions like the one she just had that made Y/N think everything Dick tried to tell her about how Bruce saw her was utter bullshit.

Y/N arrived to the cave with an energy she was definitely not expecting.

Damian and Dick were training on the lower level while Tim and Jason observed from the sides.

Y/N had seen footage of each of them fighting before. It was one of the research pieces she’d watched while investigating them before figuring out their identities. But seeing it in person was a completely different experience.

Dick was using his escrima sticks,  while Damian had his katana.

Jason noticed her arrival and made his way over with a smirk.

“Was wondering when you’d wake up,” he greeted.

“Please tell me that’s a sword for training and not an actual blade,” Y/N asked nervously while her eyes followed the two dancing around each other. She could even hear the blade slicing through the air.

“Don’t worry. They won’t seriously hurt each other.” He had a little side smirk. “Especially since Dick is Damian’s favorite.”

Y/N looked at Jason. “I always assumed Bruce was his favorite.”

He shrugged. “Dick’s been a father to Damian far more than Bruce ever has.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. It caught her by surprise a bit.

“Can you fight?” Jason asked her.

Her eyes widened. “No. I don’t know how to do…anything. I did one of those boxing workout classes. I hated it. All the instructors are male models, and that’s their side hustle.”

“I can assure you that was not boxing,” Jason laughed. “Why haven’t asked one of us?”  

Y/N shrugged. “Seems like a waste of your time.”

“No, it sounds like a fun time,” Jason corrected.

She laughed at that.

They both watched the two again.

A few moments went by before Y/N quietly added, “I have a gun. I don’t really know how to use it. But I thought it was necessary with my…line of work.”

Jason nodded slowly. “These pansies have a certain aversion to guns.” He looked down at her. “If you need me to show you a few basics, let me know.”

Y/N quickly looked at him. “T-Thank you.”

He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Jason Todd may have been labeled an anti-hero or even a criminal at one point. But deep down, he was still a Wayne. And even though he had the reputation of the bad boy, they all knew he was a sweetheart deep down. However, Y/N was now just seeing it.

Y/N jumped when Damian was slammed to the ground.

“Jesus,” she hissed.

“He’s fine,” Jason insisted.

But then he leaned closer and started pointing out certain moves to her. 

“With Dick’s gymnastics background, he incorporates a lot more acrobatics and moves that require more flexibility. He’s good at improvisation. He also leans more toward taekwondo. But with his escrima sticks, he also uses arnis.”

He looked down to make sure he wasn’t boring Y/N before he continued.

“He almost moves like a dancer,” she thought aloud, proving she was interested and engaged.

“Exactly,” he nodded. “Whereas Damian is still a kid. It’s less about power and more about agility. Before he got here, he was trained to kill. He’s mastered the sword better than any of us – but don’t tell him I said that. Damian’s had to adjust his technique and turn it non-lethal.” He smirked, “Just think devil ninja and that pretty much sums it up.”

Y/N laughed.

“And Tim?” She asked.

“Tim leans towards Kobudo, which is an ancient style developed by the Japanese. He prefers to use a battle staff. He’s smaller, so his technique is very calculated and controlled. Every move he makes counts for something. He’s extremely observant and can read his opponents like a book. Dick tries to create his openings, while Tim waits for the exact right moment.”

“Smart,” Y/N commented.

Jason nodded in agreement.

She turned back to him. “And you? What’s your style?”

“Brutal,” a voice said behind them.

Y/N whipped around to see Bruce standing behind them with his arms crossed. He’d changed, and was now wearing a tank top and sweatpants. Clearly he came down with the intention to train as well.

Jason didn’t seem surprised nor did he acknowledge him, meaning he probably knew the moment Bruce had arrived. He just didn’t care to notice him outwardly.

“Wing chun. Heavy-weight boxing. Krav Maga,” Bruce continued as if he was just listing of stats. “Angry…” he shrugged, “sometimes reckless.”

Jason scoffed at that.

“And he can’t seem to get over his complex for guns,” Bruce finished.

Jason turned to him. He was just an inch or so taller than Bruce. But he looked like he was twice the width and his muscles were somehow even bigger.

“Should we give her a show, B?” Jason offered with amusement.

“We’re not a spectacle, Jason.”

Jason looked down to Y/N. “Such a party pooper this one.”

She smirked at his sass. Bruce was not in her good graces right now, so she would support any and all mocking of him.

Y/N hadn’t even looked at Bruce since he arrived. And now she was choosing it as a perfect time to finally make her way to her computers and away from him.

Jason didn’t miss the cold shoulder. “What did you do to piss off yet another woman?”

Bruce glared at him, and walked down to the training area with the boys.

Jason followed after him. 

He looked back and forth between Bruce and up at Y/N, a plan developing in his head.

“$100 bucks Bruce can lay out Dick in two minutes,” Jason said loud enough that Y/N could hear him.

Tim and Damian shared a smirk.

Bruce and Dick glared at him.

“I’m not betting against that,” Damian announced.

Tim smiled. “But I will.”

Dick shook his head in submission, “Fine.”

Bruce needed the practice, even though he was aware Jason had ulterior motives with his request. So he just gave Dick a look of consent.

Y/N tried to ignore what was happening, even though Jason made it very clear for her. She heard the sound of fists and feet hitting skin. He heard their grunts of pain and exertion.

It wasn’t until she heard Dick torment Bruce with, “Come on, old man,” that Y/N couldn’t help but turn to watch them below the platform she worked on.

Dick’s teasing worked, but not in his favor.

Bruce no longer took it easy on him. Maybe that’s what Dick wanted, but he was now on the defense.

They were fighting hand to hand. No escrima sticks or gadgets. Just hand-to-hand combat.

Y/N could tell the that Dick was starting to get frustrated. 

Bruce, however, seemed completely calm. He knew all of the boys’ fighting styles and taught them the majority of what they knew. There was a part of Bruce in all of them. It almost made for an unfair fight. 

Their movements got faster and faster. Y/N was struggling to figure out what was even happening anymore.

But just when she was about to give up her observing and get back to work, Bruce managed to get a proper grip on Dick and flipped him over his shoulder.

Dick landed on his back hard. So hard, that Y/N heard the smack and the sound alone made her feel sick.

Y/N gasped, and put a hand in her mouth when the sound came out louder than she expected.

Jason, Tim, Damian, and even Dick glanced up at her.

But Bruce was staring down at his opponent.

“Your weight placement was off and you know how to get out of that hold,” Bruce lectured. “You know better.”

Dick glared up at him.

Bruce offered him a hand up, but Dick ignored it.

“I know,” Dick growled as he got to his feet.

“You’re letting yourself get frustrated. It’s causing your mistakes.”

“I said I know,” Dick snapped louder this time.

Before an argument could really start, Alfred made his presence known by clearing his throat.

All the boys looked up at him, as well. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked.

“I was rather certain you’d forgotten. Seems I was right.” Alfred cleared his throat. “I came to remind you all that the annual gala for the Martha Foundation is tomorrow night at the manor.”

“Can’t we reschedule it,” Damian whined.

Bruce shook his head. “The Court of Owls is made of Gotham’s elite – many of who are invited. If we cancel, it will cause suspicion.”

“You can’t honestly think we should risk that with Y/N being here,” Dick called out, gesturing up towards Y/N.

Bruce and Dick had a silent conversation.

Y/N knew it was about her, so she did not appreciate being excluded.

“Oh, wow. Looks like one of my safe houses is finally more secure than this place,” Y/N spoke up melodramatically.

But she should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy to escape.

--------------------------------------

Next chapter is gonna be fun, guys. 😈 But let me know what you thought of this one. 

[jadedxrealityw]

-My Little Slytherin- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

   ♡~🐍~♡

    Request:  hi! could you please do a fluff where the reader gets jealous of another girl flirting with draco and he stays the night in the reader’s dorm room to make it up to her or something like that? you can change the ending if it’s easier for you. thank you~

   Kody- “he stays the night in the reader’s dorm room to make it up to her or something like that?” feels smutty, but at the same time not everyone likes smut. So i'll write two alternative endings. A fluff and a smut. I also don’t condone Astoria Greengrass slander, but it’s needed for the story, i’m sorry.

   Warning: Sexual and Mature themes. s i n. I mean- yikes. Both characters are 18 in this story.

   House: Slytherin

   ♡~🐍~♡

   the best days at Hogwarts were free days. Being able to catch up on missed homework was great, or hang out with friends you didn’t usually see on your busy school schedule, but today you were doing none of those things. You will be spending all day with your lovely boyfriend.

   well not all day. Draco had Quidditch practice early this morning, but it should have finished about 10 minutes ago. So you were walking out of Hogwarts and making your way towards the Quidditch field. You had a skip in your step as you walked, excited to have your boyfriend around.

   you saw a couple of the Slytherin players land on the ground, high fiving each other and whatnot. ‘guess it was a good practice’ you thought. You gaze around the field, looking for your boyfriend. “You were great out there, Draco” you heard a voice say, turning your head in the direction. You see Astoria Greengrass.

   she was holding Draco’s bicep and was practically drooling all over him. You could feel your eye twitch in irritation, she was always around Draco. You swore she was more obsessed with him then Pansy Parkinson was. Which was a lot, but at least Pansy stopped when you two started going out.

   the pale boy gave her a polite smile “Thank you, Greengrass” he says and ran a hand through his platinum blond hair. “Aw Draco. You can call me Astoria!” she smiles a sickenly sweet smile. He nods slowly and grabs her hand removing it from his bicep “Thank you, Astoria, but i have to go find my girlfriend” he spoke.

   ‘damn right he does’ you thought. Astoria puts on a pout “but you never hang out with me anymore. Y/n stole you away from me. Just talk to me for a bit, yeah?” she whines, making her sound like a mandrake root that had just been pulled. You watched Draco’s conflicted face ‘oh he better not’ 

   look you weren’t jealous, okay maybe a little, but it’s only because even after you both started dating Astoria still continued to try and ask out Draco. You understood her feelings, but she was being entirely disrespectful and didn’t consider yours like you did hers. 

   so you told Draco, until she learned to be a normal person and deal with her feelings that he couldn’t hang out with her. It seems rude, but the girl would take an inch and stretch it for a mile. She needed a Draco detox basically. It’s not like he was being rude to her in like a ‘go away’ way. More ‘sorry, but i have go’ 

   Draco sighed and gave her a small smile “She doesn’t seem to be here yet, so yeah we can talk” and you had lost all hope for your boyfriend right then and there. You regain your composure and activate ‘Petty Y/n’ mode. You walk right past the two, catching the attention of the pale boy.

   “Y/n! i thought you weren’t coming?” you heard him say. You turn your head and watch as Astoria’s face twist into one of annoyance ‘yeah whatever bitch’ “Oh you seem to be busy, so i’ll catch up with you later” you say, putting on a smile that Draco knew was fake.

   he looks at Astoria then you, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could. You turned and made your way towards Blaise Zabini. 

   ♡~🐍~♡

   and just like that you completely blew off the Slytherin boy all day. A couple of times you caught yourself going up to him to apologize, but would turn all the way back around because he was still with Astoria. Letting her flirt with him and grab him. Okay yeah, you were definitely jealous.

   it was getting late and you were changing into your pajamas to lay down and get some rest. You slipped the long shirt over your head just as a knock came to your door. Straightening the shirt you realize it was one of Draco’s and sigh ‘stupid boy’ you thought and go over to your door.

   grabbing the handle, you turn it and pull it open revealing the pale boy himself “Draco” you spoke, crossing your arms “I take it your still mad at me?” he asks, leaning against the door frame. “and the boys a genius. What do you want? a cookie?” your sarcasm made him roll his grey eyes.

   “you let that girl put her filthy hands all over you, Draco” you scowl at him, but it seems to have no effect considering he just smirked in return “Are you jealous Y/n?” he asked, a cocky expression on his face, knowing he already knew the answer.

   ♡~🐍~♡

   Fluff Ending

   you feel your face flush and roll your eyes “Me? Jealous? of what? Greengrass? as if.” your face was small under his gaze. He nods once and takes a step towards you “Good, because your my girlfriend. Not her.” he says and places a hand on your face, turning your chin up to look at him.

   “i love you Y/n. Not Astoria or anybody else. I’m sorry that she ruined our day together, but it isn’t exactly over is it?” he asked, his smirk turning into a genuine smile. You nod slowly and he walks into your room, reaching back to shut the door behind him. “You also look really cute in my shirt”

   “Yep it isn’t. So i’m spending the night with you as an apology. Only if you’ll allow me of course” he says and you sigh contently “Your lucky i love you Draco Malfoy” you spoke, causing the boy to laugh slightly “Indeed i am” and with that he grabs your hand and leads you to your bed.

   you crawl in and lay down on the left side and he does the same on the right. You were about to pull the covers over your body when he grabs your hand. “Yes?” you say and he doesn’t respond. Instead he leans into kiss your lips gingerly. The exchange only lasted a couple of seconds.

   “i promise i’ll stay away from Astoria. Your right, she is kind of crazy about me” he sighs and you nod “Her and me both” you joke, causing the pale boy to snicker before pulling your body flush against his. “There’s a difference between the both of you though”

   you raise a brow curiously “and that is?” you question. “I can only imagine you wearing an engagement ring, wearing a nice black dress as you walk down an aisle towards me, saying i do and having a family with” your caught a bit off guard by his words. He imagined his whole life being with you?

   “you just have this all planned out, huh?” he nods confidently. “Of course i do. It’s me after all, you know how dramatic i am. Now, get some sleep Mrs. Malfoy” he spoke, making your face flush again. He notices your pink face and grins slightly “Cute” he mumbles.

   you feel his arm wrap itself around you and rub circles on your back, making you hum. You close your eyes leaning into his chest, so close your able to hear the rhythmic beat  of his heart. “I love you Draco Malfoy” you mutter and soon enough you were asleep. Draco smiles and closes his eyes as well.

   he kept his protective hold on you and felt himself dozing off “I love you too my little Slytherin” and with that the pale boy fell asleep holding his future bride.

   ♡~🐍~♡

   S i n Ending

   your face flushed a light pink at his question. “What? no of course not” you sputter out, which didn’t help your argument at all. “Oh you are. That’s really cute” he speaks, his smirk not flattering in the slightest. You roll your eyes “Whatever, don’t you have Astoria to go talk to?” 

   he rolls his eyes and gazes at your sleepwear “Is that my shirt?” he asked, his hands grabbing at the hem of the shirt “Don’t change the subject Draco!” you swat his hands away making him sigh. “Oh merlin, Y/n you don’t have to be jealous. You know i will always love you”

   your stupid face turned a light pink and you turn away “I know” you mumble and feel him grab your hands. “Y/n, look at me” he says and lets go off one of your hands to gently force your chin up to look at him. “How ‘bout i make it up to you, yeah?” his smirk returned to his face. 

   your face turned a darker shade of pink making the pale boys smirk grow wider “Consent would be lovely” he says in a sing song voice. His hands trailing to your hips to give them a light squeeze. “Y-Yes” you stutter out. The way he had this effect on you was indeed magical.

   he captures your lips in his and pull you against his chest. You begin to respond to his rouch kisses with your own, but pull away once you remember that the door was open “the door” you huff out and he uses his foot to push it closed. 

   then reaches behind it to turn the lock, locking the door. Draco turns back to look at you and smiles before going into kiss you again. The kiss is full of passion and very needy, which you were at this point. The pale boy started to back you up into the foot of your bed.

   as you were about to pull away from the kiss Draco grabs the back of your thighs, lifting you from the ground to throw you on your bed. You landed on the bed with a ‘oof’ sound and prop yourself up on your elbows to look up at him. “You look so cute disheveled like that” he coos. 

   he then crawls over you, straddling your hips as he dips down to your neck. Starting to nip at the sensitive skin, you let out a small whine. You could practically feel the smirk that formed on his face when he heard you. He pulls away to lift your- well his shirt that you were wearing over your head.

   he stopped his movements to take in your choice of bra and underwear. “I certainly know i’m going to enjoy this” his voice was low and raspy, need dripping off of every word. You simply observed as he placed a kiss between the valley of your breast and went lower and lower

   he left purple love bites in his path until he reached the hem of your underwear. You felt his finger run along your clothed area, making you shiver “Already so wet for me, darling” he hums and hooks his finger into the waistband, pulling them down skillfully. 

   when they reach your ankles he places a kiss on your caff before throwing them on the floor. “Now, where was i?” he asked and looked down at your now exposed lower half “ah yes, that’s right” the pale boy leans down and plants a kiss on your bundle of nerves, making you squirm under him.

   you could hear his cocky laugh as you stare up at the ceiling, unable to look towards the boy. “Eyes on me, love” his voice had an demanding tone and slowly, but surely you look down at him. He gives you a innocent smile “Good” and grabs your thighs, placing them over his shoulders.

   you didn’t get a chance to react as the boy licked a long stripe along your core “how sweet” he mumbles all you could do was stare as the Slytherin worked his mouth on you, leaving you a moaning mess under him.

   your hand went to his hair to tangle themselves in his platinum blond mess. Your hips began to buck up, trying to get more friction against your lower region. Draco used his hand to hold your hips against the bed “Keep still” he growls and uses his tongue to prod at your entrance.

   you let out a huff of pleasure as he pushes the wet muscle inside you “Draco” you breathe out, making the Slytherin boy smirk again “I like hearing my name come from you in a such a lewd way” you felt a knot form in the pit of your stomach as he continues his actions.

   “Draco i-” 

   “Let it all out my little Slytherin” 

   and you felt the knot burst, your release coming in a wave of euphoria that crashes over your body. “So sweet” you heard him say as he sits up, wiping his chin from you. “Now, let’s sleep” he says, going back to his casual demeanour. You blink a couple times as you sit up as well

   he gets up from the bed and begins to look at the ground “What?” you ask and he picks something off the ground “Tonight was about you, not me. Plus i have you all morning tomorrow” he sends you a wink and tosses your underwear to you, which you start to put on.

   “I need my shirt” you say, pulling the undergarment over your area. Draco grabs the bottom of his shirt and hands you it, leaving him topless ‘woah’ “I rather you wear that one” he smiles at you and you snicker before slipping the shirt over your head.

   Draco climbs in the bed next to you and pulls you down to lay with him. “Hmm now sleep Y/n. You won’t be doing a lot of that tomorrow” he says, his tone going deeper. You roll your eyes as you feel him pull the sheets over you two. “Night darling” he mumbles and kisses the side of your face.

   you smile and lay your head on his chest “Night Dray”

   ♡~🐍~♡

   Kody- HAHAHAHA i suck at writing this, but i hope you enjoyed. Anyways, peace. 

[therenlover]

In Sickness And In Health (An 18+ James Patrick March/Reader Oneshot)

This is 18+ content! If you are a minor, this work is not for you !!!

This fic is a sequel to my oneshot Heartsick, but it can be read as a standalone oneshot!

Synopsis: Normally people don’t have their wedding and funeral on the same day, but you and James don’t quite have a normal relationship, do you? Besides, you wouldn’t wanna go any other way.

Tags: Smut with Plot, Weddings, Fluff, Ghost Smut, Cunnilingus, Sick!Reader, Obnoxious Titanic Knowledge

Rating: E, 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Major Character Death, Romanticization of Death, Murder, Unsafe Sex (it’s with a ghost, but just to be safe...), Mentions Of The Reader Having A Long Term Debilitating Illness

Word Count: 5500~

This fic has been crossposted to my AO3 under the same title

-------

“How are you feeling, my darling?”

James’s voice was soft as he entered your suite, slipping off his shoes before joining you on the bed. He smelled like antiseptic, hair and hands still damp from a recent wash. Underneath, though, was the sharp, coppery tang of blood.

You stretched as you answered, weak muscles shuddering with effort. “It’s a good day. Not great, I still feel like absolute shit, but I don’t feel like I’m actively dying anymore,”

“Well, that’s certainly an improvement,”

Your fiancé offered you a rare, genuine grin. Seeing him smile made the lie worth it.

In truth, you still felt truly terrible.

It had been almost three weeks since Mr. March had proposed, and true to his word he had been glued to your side helping you recover ever since. He helped you bathe, fed you meals, gave you medication, kept you entertained; days with him were filled with small, simple pleasures. You had never experienced anything like that attention before. Unfortunately, though, the time spent with James only seemed to help your mind, and not your body.

After close to two months of bed rest, your muscles were weak. It still took significant effort to do simple tasks like walking to the bathroom or using cutlery. Some days were better than others, but everything generally tended to end up as part of the indistinguishable haze of pain that clouded your memories lately. If nothing else, at least the fevers were less extreme.

The only light at the end of the tunnel was your wedding. It was still two weeks away, (“That’s plenty of time for you to recover fully, my dearest,” James had insisted) but once you were married that meant you could die. Oh, what a happy day that would be. There would be no more sickness, no more achy muscles, not another day of forced bed rest, just peace and quiet and plenty of sex. God, how you missed the sex…

Every day was another day closer to your peaceful end, and yet they seemed to stretch endlessly. Deep down, you worried that you might not even make it long enough to walk down the aisle alive. You shuddered at the thought. If James ended up having to carry you down the aisle you might just die of embarrassment before he had the chance to kill you.

“I can’t believe you killed someone without me,” You huffed, reaching out your shaking arms and inviting James to lay with you. He happily obliged.

“Would you have preferred me to let him live?” James pulled your torso gently onto his chest, letting you rest against him.

“No, but you could have at least let me watch. I’ve been stuck in here for weeks, James. I get bored,”

He ran a hand through your hair. “Perhaps next time darling, but hopefully, you will be well enough to join me before our next victim walks through the door,”

“Who was it this time?”

“A florist. Liz invited him to bring over a few samples before hiring him to do arrangements for the wedding, but they were atrocious. You should have seen them, my love, they were simply grotesque, not to mention that the color schemes didn’t even slightly match the carpets in the entrance hall. Who puts pink and yellow tulips in a wedding arrangement at a hall filled with reds and oranges?”

You gave a soft hum. “Were they all really that bad?”

“Well… perhaps I was a bit harsh, but can you truly blame me? I want our wedding day to be perfect. There shouldn’t be a single flower or ribbon out of place,” He emphasized his question by gently squeezing you to his chest.

“Is it really that important?”

James went still. “What do you mean by that, dearest?”

A sigh pushed through your lips, your chest aching from the effort. “I just don’t understand why we have to wait for this perfect wedding when we could just get married now. I’m not saying I wouldn’t enjoy a big ceremony, I’m sure it would be wonderful, but I’m just so tired James. Why does it matter if we say our vows in front of other people? There’s not gonna be anything legally or religiously binding between us anyway. Getting married to you, in my mind, is just promising to be by your side forever, so why does anything else matter besides you and me?”

Looking up, you noticed that Mr. March seemed to be deep in thought, lips pressed into a line as his thin eyebrows furrowed together. Your heart sank. Did a wedding ceremony really mean that much to him? In an instant guilt began to flood your stomach. You were really ruining a special moment in his life to die faster? Hell, did he even really want you to die? He had always relished in your warmth, enthralled by the thudding of your weak, living heart. Of course, he would hate you for rushing into marriage just to throw your life away. Or maybe he was stalling because it would be too much for him to kill you himself…

“James-” you placated, lifting a hand to his face, but he quickly snapped out of his thoughtful haze.

He gazed down at you with love in his eyes and a wicked grin on his lips. “You’re right! We shall be married this afternoon!”

A jolt of shock ran down your spine.

“What?”

“As you said, our wedding is a binding of souls, my darling! Our love is sacred, withstanding time and mortality, so who are we to bend to the rules of the common man? If an intimate ceremony for two is what you desire, I shall not deny you,” In one smooth motion, James rolled on top of you, arms boxing you in as he loomed above. He looked absolutely unhinged, eyes glinting wildly in the yellow lamplight.

You knew then that there would never be anyone else. No one could compare to James, your James. He would devour you whole and you would thank him all the while. With a sudden burst of energy, you reached up and pulled him into a scorching kiss.

It was sloppy, all battling tongues and clashing teeth, nothing like the soft pressing of lips that you had been sharing lately. How had you gone almost two months without this? Your heart felt like it was about to burst right out of your chest. As James bit down hard on your lower lip, you pulled fistfuls of his pinstripe suit into your hands.

After a few more seconds of desperate, breathless kissing James pulled away. You panted for air below him. “Why’d you stop?”

To your dismay, he climbed off of you. His hard-on was fully visible through his thin dress pants as he stood. “As much as I would love to ravage you now, dearest, I believe we have vows to exchange,”

“Can’t we just do them in bed? I want you now,”

He chuckled at your whining. “I may be willing to compromise on many things, but this is not one of them,”

“Please, Mr. March,” Your words were loaded, innocent doe eyes boring into his very soul, “for me?”

You could tell it was a difficult decision, but James stood strong. “I can’t say you haven’t thoroughly tempted me, but I’m afraid not darling,” he said firmly, “Forgive me?”

With a sigh, you nodded. “Of course,”

The instant you gave in, he beamed. “Splendid! Now, it’s a shame that we don’t have your dress, but I believe I have given you several gowns that would serve nicely,”

“You’re not gonna let me get married in my pajamas?”

“Would you prefer that to wearing a dress?”

The genuine concern in James’ voice was enough to make you fold. The things his voice did to you….

“Darling,” you groaned, fighting your weak muscles as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, “look in the closet. There should be a black zip-up garment bag in there,”

He quirked up an eyebrow.

“Just do it,”

“As my bride commands,” James rushed to the closet, thumbing through gowns. By the time he found it you were on your feet, leaning on a nearby wall for support. “This one, darling?” he asked, pulling it from the rack.

You grinned. “That’s the one. Open it up for me?”

James undid the zip quickly. Once he saw the contents, he gaped. “You know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding,”

Slowly, you made your way to James and hugged him from behind. “Well, it’s a good thing the wedding is happening now... can you help me get the dress on?”

He happily obliged.

In less than 15 minutes you were laced into your wedding dress and sitting at your vanity. James was by the phonograph looking at records while you finished pinning up your hair. It was finally time.

“What would you like me to play, darling? We don’t have the wedding march, but there are some decent options. Let’s see… The Swan? You always have loved Saint-Saëns. Or perhaps Songe d’Automne?” James asked. He had been strangely lenient; bending to your will on the wedding, letting you pick the music, allowing you to tease him with no repercussions. You shrugged it off.

“You would really play the song that played as the Titanic sank at our wedding?”

“I find it strangely fitting,”

With a soft laugh, you put the last pin in place and turned to your groom. “And so it is. I’ll compromise. We have Mon Coeur S’Ouvre A Ta Voix, don’t we? You’ll get your morbidity while I get my romance,”

“That sounds delightful, my dear. Good choice,”

James found the correct record and set it on the phonograph, placing the needle and cranking the arm with a well-practiced hand. Then, as the music began to play, he stood. It was like he was devouring you with his eyes, drinking in every detail of you as he approached. He offered you his hands. “Shall we begin, my darling?”

You joined him in the center of the room without hesitation, taking his offering with a smile, “I think we shall,”

“I admit,” James said, voice sweet and low, “that I am well out of my depth here, but before we begin may I say that you, as you are now, are more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you?”

Your face flushed. “What’s gotten into you, James? Are you getting soft on me?”

“We can only hope not, I have a reputation to uphold you know! I just can’t help but think…” his sentence drifted off as his gaze fell on yours, “I am a hard man, one of custom and habit. My life has been filled with monotony for as long as I have lived. Even killing has become commonplace for me. Things do not phase me the same way they phase you, darling, in all of your softness and perfection. I wonder if this is what will truly make you happy,”

“James!” you dropped his hands in order to cup his face, “I love you. I want to be with you. What would make you think I’m unhappy here?”

He covered your small fingers with his own, voice wistful. “I love you too, Y/N. Don’t misunderstand me, this wedding brings me more joy than you know. I simply wish to say that you will only get married once and I want it to be exactly to your liking. I have been engaged thrice and married once before, all of the pomp and circumstance is old news to me. For you, though, in all your youth…”

In a rare moment of openness, James bared himself to you. It was only right for you to do the same.

“I have never been more sure of myself than in this moment,” you whispered, leaning to let your forehead rest against his, “You are enough. I don’t need guests, or flower arrangements, or a cake to know I love you and I want to spend the rest of eternity at your side. You’re right, I’m young and I’ve made a lot of dumb choices in my life, but loving you isn’t one of them. Take me, James, make me yours. This is where I belong”

As you spoke, you felt him relax against you.

“Well, you’ve certainly convinced me,” he murmured before pulling back and bringing your hands to his still, unbeating heart, “now, on with the show… my queen, the woman who has tamed my heart, you are the only one of your kind. No one else could move me the way you do. The moment I saw you walk into my hotel I knew that you would be mine, but I had no clue of the things you would do to my heart. You have changed me, mind, body, and soul. I can only hope that I’ve changed you in similar ways,”

While he was speaking, it suddenly hit you that this was it. Usually, brides had months of build-up to their weddings, filled with cake tastings and dress fittings and family and friends. You, though, had had only a few weeks to prepare, most of which were spent on strict bedrest while James took care of the planning. Even then, you had disregarded the plans. Tears of joy began to roll down your cheeks. Nothing had ever felt so right in your whole life.

“Oh darling, don’t cry,” he cooed, wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m just so happy!”

“And you shall continue to be happy. As long as you remain by my side, you will want for nothing! I shall be with you in sickness and in health, through life and through death,” Suddenly, his voice lowered to almost a whisper. “You, Y/N, have captivated me. I wish to never be without you again,”

“You never will be,”

James smiled, squeezing your hands. In an instant, you realized it was your turn. You hadn’t given much thought as to what you would say, but as you gazed into his dark, hopeful, hungry eyes the words came to you as clear as day.

“James Patrick March,” you said, “I have never met anyone quite like you. When I first saw you, I had nothing. I was destitute. The Hotel Cortez was my last hope in life, but then, I spoke to you in the Blue Parrot Lounge and I suddenly knew exactly what my purpose in life was. Somehow, someway, I realized that I had been made to find you. You’ve given me so much, James. You showed me that life was worth living. I can’t think of a future for me that doesn’t include you. From this moment on, once I’m finally Mrs. March, we can finally be what we were made to be… one heart, one mind, one soul. I’ll never let you go. Marry me, James? Stay here with me until the world ceases to turn?”

“I will, darling. I do,” while he spoke, he reached into his pocket. “I had hoped that this ring would be sitting on your finger sooner. It belongs to the woman of the house, the holder of my heart… you, my dearest Mrs. March. Please say you love me, and that you’ll stay with me until nothing of this world remains?

You responded with a grin. “I love you, James… I do,”

Slowly, he slid the ring onto your finger. It was the first time you’d actually seen it up close, and it was more stunning than you remembered. A large, square-cut diamond sat on a bed of smaller rubies, and it was all held together by a delicate silver band that fit your finger perfectly. The red stones were a new addition. Had James had the ring altered just for you? You were about to ask when you caught his gaze.

“May I kiss the bride now, my darling?”

Instead of responding, you surged up and kissed him yourself. It was like none of the kisses you had ever shared before.

There was a passion to it, but it wasn’t desperate. It was more of a low, roiling thing, a time-bomb ticking down to explode. In seconds James’ cool hand had found its way into your hair, pulling you closer and messing up the pinned curls you had put in earlier. You found you didn’t quite care.

Your limbs were beginning to feel weak as you ran out of air, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your long-forgotten illness or if it was just the power James held over you. Part of you didn’t care anymore. As you pulled back for air, your husband reached around to the lacing at the back of your dress and began to pull at it, earning a few giggles as he loosened it enough that it fell from your body, leaving you almost bare in front of him.

“How I’ve craved you, my lovely wife,” he growled, palming your breasts through your bra, “it’s been far too long,”

His touch felt electric against your thin, soft skin. “Please, Mr. March, more,” You pressed yourself against your husband, feeling how your words affected him. He was rock hard. Something about that satisfied an ache in your heart. Even with you sick and weak, he needed you as much as you needed him.

In a swift movement, he scooped you up and carried you to the bed, setting you down gently before settling himself between your legs. You whimpered as he sucked a deep bruise into your neck. He was an expert with his tongue, licking and sucking the skin like a man starved. It felt delightful, but you couldn’t help but think about how it would feel elsewhere.

As if he could read your mind, James grinned.

“All in good time, you little minx,”

Ever impatient, you fisted a hand into his hair in an attempt to get him to move lower. He stayed put.

“Does my lovely wife want something from me?”

You groaned as he wrapped his teeth around your bra strap and tugged before letting go, the elastic snapping against your already sweat-slick skin. “James, please,”

“Ah, ah, ah! Use your words, dearest. What do you want?”

His tutting made you flush from your cheeks to your chest. There was only one way to get what you wanted, and you knew exactly how to do it. With as much innocence as you could muster in your debauched state, you whispered, “Please sir, will you eat my pussy?”

James couldn’t hold back as he snapped his hips against the sheets. “That’s it darling! How could I say no to such a polite request?”

You released a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. In a blink, your husband was undoing your bra and pulling it off, working his sinful mouth down to your breasts. His teeth grazed your nipple, drawing a high-pitched whine from your throat as your back arched, pushing you up towards his touch. It was like your body was a live wire. Every nerve was alive, buzzing at the slightest touch. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Thankfully, he was quick to move once again. He left a trail of gentle, sloppy kisses down your ribs and stomach before arriving at his desired destination. His hot breath against your soaked panties fanned the flames of arousal building within you. Once again, you whined.

Your husband had always loved eating you out. He never seemed happier than when he was buried between your thighs with his tongue buried between your folds, and once again he was faced with his favorite activity. The hungry look in his eye told you that he wanted it as much as you did.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to remove your garter in front of the hotel. I would have so enjoyed showing them all just how lucky of a man I am. Perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise though… I do hate to share” he murmured, pressing a few torturous kisses to the hot skin of your inner thighs as he skimmed your panties with his fingers, “I suppose these will have to do,” Then, in a sudden movement, he was dragging them down your legs by the lace with his teeth. Once they were removed, he tossed them aside to be collected later. The way he looked at your wetness was reverent. It only made you wetter.

“What do we have here,” he muttered, letting the tip of his nose just barely brush your core, “what could possibly be making you this wet, my darling?”

His taunting was, surprisingly, less severe than usual. On any normal day, it would have taken a good 10 minutes for him to be anywhere near your heat, but you could tell he was obliging your whims as a treat. It was a special occasion, after all.

“You,” you groaned lowly as his breath ghosted over your pussy.

“That’s right, my dear heart, me,”

In an instant James had buried himself in your lower lips, suckling your clit with vigor as your hips bucked to meet him. For once, he let you chase your pleasure with reckless abandon. It had been months since your last proper orgasm, so you were extra sensitive as he licked long stripes up your slit. Soon enough you were keening as you teetered on the edge of pleasure.

“James- James, please!” you shouted as he finally worked a finger into your tight, wet hole, his tongue lazily circling your clit as he gazed into your eyes across the planes of your body.

He pulled off momentarily, making you groan. “Please what, dearest?”

“I wanna cum! Please- OH!”

His lips were back on your clit instantly, his eyes smiling as he pumped in and out of you with his fingers and sucked with reckless abandon. Every muscle in your body felt poised for action, your hands gripping James’ hair at the roots with enough force that you were surprised it was still attached to his head. You tipped over the edge into pleasure the second he curled his fingers upwards, roughly pressing into your sweet spot as he hummed, his voice vibrating against you in the most heavenly way.

Your orgasm was like a wave of pure bliss rolling over you as James pleasured you through it, milking you for everything you had. Only once you stopped convulsing did he remove his mouth. Even then, he continued to fuck you gently with his fingers. “Did that feel good, my love?” he asked, rubbing circles into your still-shaking thigh with his free hand.

“Yes, James! Your mouth is perfect,” you whimpered.

He seemed to enjoy your answer because he slowly pulled his fingers from your sensitive pussy before climbing up your body and rewarding you with a passionate kiss. You enjoyed it thoroughly but suddenly became aware that he was still fully dressed. “James,” you whined against his lips, “you’re wearing far too many clothes,”

He tasted like tobacco and absinthe as he kissed you again, guiding your hands to the buttons on his suit jacket before tugging at his cravat. “Perhaps we should remedy that, darling?”

You were quick to undo each button before ripping the jacket from his body and tossing it on the ground. His dress shirt and cravat were quick to follow. He focused on undoing his pants while you relished in his bare chest, running your hands down the firm planes of flesh. “God, you’re gorgeous,” you whispered, biting down gently on his collarbone.

“No need to call me God, dearest,” he chuckled, shoving down his pants and boxers to free his leaking cock, “though I don’t oppose to it,”

He was a big man, long and thick enough that fitting all of him in was just slightly painful but more than enough to make you feel deliciously full. You drooled as you reached between your torsos to stroke him, but surprisingly James caught your wrist before you could touch him.

“I appreciate you taking my pleasure into consideration, my love, but I won’t last long as it is,” he crooned, holding your wrist to the bed with one hand as he lined himself up against your dripping heat with the other. He ran the head of his cock against your folds a few times, gathering up your wetness in the hopes that it would ease the stretch when he finally pushed in. To you, though, it was just torture, and how James did love to torture his victims.

“Please, fuck me, Mr. March,” you groaned, “I need you! It’s been so long,”

“Such a good little minx,” his voice rolled low as he smiled down at you, “using your words just like I taught you. Perhaps you deserve a reward,” Then, as he locked his hungry eyes with yours, he pushed fully into your heat.

You cried out in ecstasy the second he filled you up, your head lolling back against the headboard as he rocked in and out, letting you ride out the initial pain as he warmed you up for the main event. It wasn’t long before the sting was gone. It was replaced with a dull ache, but that was mostly overshadowed by a sweet, building fire spreading through your abdomen again as James pounded into you with reckless abandon.

Every muscle in your body felt weak, loose and slack as your husband found that spot inside you. Each thrust was a shock through your overstimulated body. It was like you were toeing the line between pain and pleasure, always an instant from falling fully into one or the other. When James picked up his speed once again, you started to lose yourself to the pleasure.

“Mr. March!” you wailed, body jolting as he released your wrist and instead used his hand to steady your thigh and hold you wide open, “ Mr. March! Oh god, please let me cum!”

Surprisingly, despite the fact that he was dead, James seemed almost as breathless as you while he purred into your ear. “Close your eyes, Y/N. Let the pleasure take you. Cum for me, Mrs. March,”

With one last sharp stroke from James, you wailed and let your orgasm overtake you. This time, though, it wasn’t a wave. Instead, it hit you directly like a ton of bricks. The feeling was heady, a high derived from the shockwaves of pleasure mixing with the sweet pain James always provided when he lost control. Distantly, you could feel your thighs covered in your wet essence as your husband gripped them and drove himself into you ceaselessly, quickly reaching his own climax.

Maybe it was that you hadn’t been satisfied so thoroughly since before you were sick, but you felt absolutely exhausted as the last remains of your release drained from your body. Perhaps you had gone too far with the enthusiasm after being on bed rest for so long… Something deep inside you felt whole, like a piece of you that had been missing all your life had finally slotted into place. You fell into a dreamless sleep as that satisfaction resonated through your thoroughly fucked-out body.

When you woke, you almost felt disconnected from time. It was like waking up from an unexpected nap that went on longer than you had intended it to. Your eyelids felt heavy, but the familiar ache in your lungs and muscles that had been your constant companion was gone, replaced with a cool, tingling numbness. You chuckled a bit to yourself. Had sex been the answer to your problems all along?

Slowly, you rolled onto your side, stretching out your arms and legs before curling up in the sheets. Five more minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt anybody.

Unfortunately, your plans for rest were foiled as you felt the bed dip beside you.

“How do you feel, my darling?” James asked. His voice was soft. If you didn’t know him better you would have thought he sounded frightened.

You smiled, letting your eyes flutter open as you took in his face. “Surprisingly, I feel great. I don’t think I’ve felt this good for a long time,”

James smiled back at you, his brown eyes glimmering with some distant emotion. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re starting the road to recovery,”

There was something strange about your husband, you noticed as you sat up, looking around. You definitely weren’t in your own bedroom anymore. Instead, you were tucked nicely into a four-poster bed with soft, red sheets, surrounded by dark wood and art deco accents. Distantly, you touched your chest and registered that you were wearing one of James’ shirts.

“You brought me to your room?” You propped yourself up on his headboard as you took in your new surroundings, watching the golden evening sun filter in through the gap in the heavy velvet curtains.

“Our room, my sweetling,” James corrected.

You hummed thoughtfully. “I like it. I know I’ve technically been here, with Devil’s Night and our little trysts and all, but I’ve never slept in your bed before. It’s soft… nice,”

He offered you a tinny false smile, his hands fidgeting nervously with the edge of the bedspread. “I’m glad you think so, dearest. What’s mine is now yours,”

Distantly, you smelled the faintest traces of the antiseptic soap James used to rid himself of blood. You raised an eyebrow. “How long was I out?”

“Just a few hours. I took the liberty of calling Mrs. Evers to turn down your sheets while you rested,”

“You had time for a kill in just a few hours?”

“Y/N, I-”

As he spoke, you reached out to touch his fidgeting hand only to yank your fingers back to your chest. No… this was wrong.

“Y/N, please, stay calm-”

“Why are you warm?” You asked, breathing heavily, “James? Why are you warm?”

James steadied himself with a deep breath before reaching over to rub gentle circles into your thigh above the blanket.

“I… I may have taken the liberties of… Y/N, please understand that I only did what I must. You were wasting away! And a promise is a promise…. What I’m trying to say is-”

“You killed me?”

“Precisely,”

Your husband bit down on his lip, averting his gaze in the hopes of avoiding your wrath. To his surprise, though, you threw yourself into his arms, peppering his face with kisses as you laughed joyously. You were free! Free from pain and sorrow and th e endless trappings of mortality. And James was the one to free you.

“You brilliant man!” you shouted, excited giggles escaping from your lips as you squeezed his frozen body to your own, “I didn’t even notice! Oh my god, and on our wedding night too? That’s so romantic! How did you do it? Did I have a heart attack and die from the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my whole damn life? Well… existence. I’m not quite alive anymore, am I? What did you use? Did you send me down the body chute?”

As you babbled, James slowly began to function again. You truly were his perfect match. “I slit your femoral artery just as all your muscles began to contract,” he explained, reaching up a hand to cup your cheek, “and I came to my own climax as you showered me in your blood. You didn’t feel a thing,”

You happily settled yourself against James’ chest. “You’re right. If anything, it felt kinda good…” you paused, “What about my body?”

He grinned. “You’re dead now, darling, we can revisit killing you during your little deaths at any time you like. As for your body, I didn’t put you down the chute. I cleaned you up, retrieved your ring, and took you to your casket. It’ll be bricked up in a wall within the week,”

“Aw, James, you had a casket ready for me and everything!”

“I commissioned it the day we first met. After we slept together and I led you to your suite, I went right to Liz and had her make an order. I spared no expense. Dark wood, red velvet lining…”

“Mmm,” you hummed, “It’s a shame we’ll never get to christen it… unless…”

“Darling, you cannot truly be thinking what I presume you are thinking,”

You giggled, pushing James flat onto the bed. Slowly, you leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Wanna go fuck over my dead body?”

James Patrick March had never gotten hard quicker in all his 126 years of existence.

-------

a/n: Welp! That’s the first smut I have ever written in my entire life. I hope it wasn’t terrible! This oneshot was great practice for a future instillation of Till Forever Falls Apart, so look forward to that lol. Let me know if you liked this and what types of oneshots you’d like to see next! Also, I love comments, so feel free to comment if you feel so inclined.

Please do not upload my works to other sites, thank you!

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Okay, I have thoughts about the new MCU Loki show, but especially about Mobius (perfect name for a guy whose job is protecting the timeline, by the way).

SPOILERS!

That was a master class in interrogation/deradicalization/recruitment. Possibly the best I’ve seen.

First off, there’s the usual TVA protocols - and I’m highly amused that an organization with extremely futuristic technology and an amazing-looking city deliberately designed their system on a 1980s-bureaucratic aesthetic, right down to the old-style animated video. It’s like they considered every single style from every single time people, country, and planet and decided that Earth-style-1980s-bureaucratic would be the most demoralizing.

Then Mobius comes in all friendly-like. And while that starting point is just standard good-cop-bad-cop, everything he does from then on is just outstanding. And we can reasonably assume that Mobius is coming in knowing everything about Loki, from his entire history and future to his psychological profile - after all, he’s been hunting other-Loki for a while now!

First off, Loki starts with threatening him, and Mobius is giving him absolutely nothing; just cheerful, casual agreement, ‘sure, why don’t you start with burning down my office,’ none of the fear or anger that threats are intended to provoke. At the same time, he takes Loki on a route that makes it unmistakeably clear just how impressive the TVA and their technology is; it’s on a level well beyond even Asgard, and it’s clear that Loki is picking up that the world is a good deal bigger than he’s accustomed to thinking about, and he’s a much smaller player in it than he believed. Mobius takes this moment of discomfiture as an opportunity to reassure Loki, present himself as a friend and build rapport; set up the feeling of ‘we’re on the same side here’. See, Mobius finds the bureaucratic system annoying too! And then, in the elevator, he mentions offhand that he just saved Loki’s life. He engages Loki in banter and wins a few exchanges.

In the cell, he starts off talking to Loki while facing away from him, and talks in an distracted tone. Rather than a standard interrogation setup with the interrogator trying to drag out information and the prisoner trying to stay silent, this creates a situation where Loki is trying to get his attention - as he just observed, Loki loves talking (and attention) - while also giving Loki an opening to attack, an attack that is immediately not only foiled but time-reversed, and which Moebius brushes off casually, thereby reinforcing that Loki is absolutely no threat.

To get Loki to start talking, he encourages Loki to try to manipulate him for future gain; after all, that’s Loki’s best available strategy under the circumstances, and not one he’s averse to (see: Grandmaster). He again emphasizes that Loki isn’t dangerous. He offers him unspecified benefits (he sounds like he is promising to let him go if he cooperates, but there is in fact no firm promise). And this gets Loki talking - especially since the questions are about himself, Loki’s favourite subject.

Now Mobius pulls out some truly incisive questions. (Note that this wouldn’t have worked without all the prior TVA stuff - it works because Loki is bewildered, wrongfooted, and placed in a situation where he’s got zero control. If you put Loki at the end of Avengers in a room and asked him those questions, he’d just laugh at you.) ‘What do you plan to do when you’re free?’ - which immediately reveals that Loki doesn’t want to do anything in particular with power; he diesn’t have any, like, policies; he wants power because it makes him feel powerful and successful. Then he butters him up with ‘I’m a fan; why limit yourself to just ruling?’

While the rest of the fandom is freaking out about Loki’s reaction to the MCU clips, the line that got me was his one about freedom: “For nearly everything living thing, choice breeds shame, and uncertainty, and regret. There’s a fork in every road, yet the wrong path - always taken.” Hello, projection! It’s a great window into Loki’s thinking in The Avengers (albeit a retconned one). “I’ve made terrible choices for myself that made me miserable, therefore I should make all the choices for everyone else” is of course a nonsensical idea, but Loki’s not operating on reason, just emotion.

The Mobius pulls out the video clips, first emphasizing Loki’s lack of success, and then pushing harder with “Do you enjoy hurting people?” Making him look at his actions from outside his own perspective. He keeps pushing, until Loki looks genuinely uncomfortable with his actions, and then, to counter the clips of him failing at conquest, invokes his title as ‘god of mischief’ and shows him succeeding at something genuinely mischievous. Be who are you really are. Be what you’re good at.

When Loki diverts from the topic at hand to rant about the TVA and his inevitable ascent to power, Mobius shows him the real outcome of his choices: imprisonment, and his mother’s death. Loki’s clearly emotionally affected, and Mobius presses his advantage; this is the first time in their entire interaction that he’s raised his voice. But Mobius then immediately returns to calm, and plays his masterstroke. Your predetermined role in the world is to cause pain and suffering. Is that what you want? It flips the narrative: suddenly, Loki returning to his quest for power and rule is compliance with the established order, and becoming a better person is defiance of it.

I don’t know if Loki’s escape is genuinely an error by the TVA, or if this is something orchestrated; the former is more probable, but the latter is a possibility - it’s seeing Infinity Stones thrown in a desk drawer like junk that takes Loki to the breaking point.

After the escape attempt, Mobius, in another great move, leaves Loki alone in the room rather than resuming the interrogation. It’s practically a guarantee that Loki will look at the rest of his future - there’s nothing else to do in the room, and it’s an irresistible opportunity - but at this point it’s more effective for him to feel that he’s acting freely that for Mobius to actively show it to him. And he’s also, obviously, more able to engage with his emotions when there’s no one else there (though the TVA is certainly observing him remotely, he’s not thinking about that).

And only then, when Loki’s coping with all those new realizations - both that his family loved him and that his life ended pointlessly - does Mobius come back. And then he at last gets genuine emotional vulnerability from Loki and, even more stunning, an admission of wrongdoing: that he’s been acting as a bully, harmimg others so he can feel strong. And it’s at that point, when Loki acknowledges himself a villain and is unhappy about it, that Mobius can make the offer of Loki helping on the case and have it feel like something he’s doing for Loki.

It’s the same deal it was at the beginning - help the TVA or die - but it feels very different to Loki. An opportunity rather than a threat. A choice he’s been given to do something different with his life.

And all this is nested within an episode that’s about the illusion of choice. Impressive.

Short version - I don’t see Mobius as Loki’s new best friend. I see him as a man who’s very, very good at his job. And I love competent characters.

I could be misreading it - I frequently read more into superhero movies and shows than is actually there - but that’s how it’s looking to me now.

[4ragon]

I'm not the original anonymous but I would extremely want to see that essay about Apollo's trust issues.

Also since I just finished Spirit of Justice, do you think Lamiroir ever told Trucy/Apollo about her and if so what would be their reactions?

Let’s see if I can write this up without crying again like I did on twitter.

So a while ago a friend of mine asked me why I liked Apollo, and I really couldn’t put my finger on it. I knew he was my favorite, but unlike Simon Blackquill, I hadn’t done that deep dive into figuring out why. I’d always just sort of loved him, and was never able to pinpoint the part that made me care about him so much. It drove me crazy, too, I love rambling about characters that I love, and I love writing from Apollo’s perspective more than anything. So why did I love him? Why did I care about him?

Well. I figured it out. I figured out my answer.

I think there are two things that characterize Apollo more than anything. One: He has trust issues. He genuinely believes that the people around him don’t give a shit about him. Especially after being betrayed multiple times in that first trial, he truly and deeply believes that the people around him are only trying to hurt him and is too scared to really believe that they care about him.

And two: He cares so much about the people around him that he constantly helps them anyway.

So like. And I won’t tag her because I don’t think she’d appreciate it, but I was watching the laquilasse AA4 stream last night, and the entire opening of Turnabout Corner is so striking to me, especially right after the end of Turnabout Trump. At the end of Turnabout Trump, Apollo’s trust and belief in Phoenix is finally and thoroughly shattered, and Apollo lashes out, punching Phoenix in the face. And for good reason! That was a huge breach of trust! Apollo literally did the exact thing that got Phoenix disbarred, namely present evidence that wasn’t real. Sure, they never exactly claimed it was the real deal, but Apollo didn’t even know it was faked, he just trusted Phoenix and this new piece of evidence and it almost fucked him over. It did sort of fuck him over, he did lose his job and his Mentor.

And then, Phoenix calls him and says that they’re in trouble, and Apollo doesn’t even question it, of course he shows up to help.

Like. You can feel how much he mistrusts Trucy on their first meeting, in everything he does and says. Especially when Trucy and Phoenix are in the same room, he’s actively thinking about how he doesn’t ‘buy their act’ when Phoenix is calling Trucy daughter-ly nicknames. And then, in a way, he’s kind of right? They guilt him into essentially being their errand boy, and I feel like they’re constantly and loudly using him throughout so much of the game.

And Apollo was there anyway. Apollo doesn’t even trust them and he’s still there the first instant Phoenix says he needs his help.

Like you can loudly do and say whatever you want and crush his dreams and betray his trust, and despite everything, there’s always that part of Apollo that desperately needs to help anyone who asks him. He can’t even bring himself to trust them, and he’s still crawling back the moment someone needs him, ready to let them disappoint him over again.

Like this struck me about Apollo from the moment I played AA4, but he’s so lonely? And desperate for connection? He cares so much about a world that has always and consistently never cared about him, and he just keeps caring and keeps caring even as that starry-eyed naivete is ripped away. And I feel like he just wants someone to care about him back, but never really able to believe that they do, because they never really seem to, because every time he allows himself to trust it’s just thrown back in his face so horribly.

Here’s an interesting thing I noticed: in Turnabout Trump, there’s a really interesting line. Phoenix has accused Kristoph of being the murderer, the extra person in the room. Kristoph takes the stand and claims to have witnessed the moment Phoenix committed the murder. And this exchange happens:

Apollo: There must have been someone else there at the moment of the crime!

Kristoph: Justice... I just said I saw no one. Not a soul.

Apollo: B-But, that goes against what Mr. Wright said!

Kristoph: Ah yes, this mysterious "fourth person"... ...who would conveniently be the "real killer", I suppose.

And this is well past the point where Phoenix has accused Kristoph of being that person. There’s no possibility at this point that they’re both innocent, it’s either one or the other. And Apollo is still so desperately trying to find a way for them both to be innocent, basically saying, “Just give me a fourth person and I’ll believe you.” And then Kristoph turned out to be a monster, and then Phoenix turned out to have betrayed Apollo from the start, and as far as Apollo is ever aware, none of the care from either of these men was ever real. He trusted, and he suffered the consequences.

But again. He’s still there. Someone pointed out a while ago, but Apollo stays. Apollo shows up to the Wright Talent Agency under false pretenses, and he complains and hems and haws, and he still stays. Why?

Phoenix and Trucy loudly manipulate him into working their case. They’re perfectly happy to flaunt that they’re basically tricking him. And he stays. Why?

Because Apollo can’t trust them, but he wants to so fucking bad. He doesn’t even seem to like Phoenix that much, but he wants that connection so fucking bad. He cares about them so much and he doesn’t believe for a second that they extend that feeling back at him, and he’s compelled to stay anyway.

He knows Trucy is practically using him, and he’s a sobbing mess when he thinks she was kidnapped for a few minutes. He’s cynical and mean and it’s all just to cover up the fact that he loves all these people around him with all his heart and they never once pay it back. And he comes back anyway. He’s like a fucking loyal dog that is never given enough affection and so he’s constantly trying harder and harder to earn that love while never believing he’ll ever really get it.

(Shit nope crying again)

It’s just so sad. And this is all without adding anything from the 3D games. The 3D games do build on this theme in one way or another, but from the get go, this is who Apollo is. A caring young man who is constantly punished for caring and yet can’t stop caring anyway.

We see it again in the 3D games. And I think part of why I don’t enjoy DD as much as SoJ is that DD doesn’t capture this mistrust the same way. It’s so surface level, that sense of betrayal and mistrust and anger he gets consumed by in that final case. And the worst part is it doesn’t have to be! There’s already that foundation! Apollo has been hurt already a million times. The only person he’s ever been able to trust, the only lifeline that’s kept him above water since he was a child, was Clay Terran, and now that was taken from him because he DARED to trust someone new. That’s so fucking compelling! But we never get that! We never get to see how Apollo is feeling. We get that he’s convinced Athena did the murder, but never really get into the Why, into the What This Means for Apollo.

It’s a bit better in SoJ. We see how far he’s come in terms of trusting people when he trusts in Trucy wholly and immediately in case two. And then, conversely, we see his mistrust and hurt when they introduce Dhurke into the mix. Apollo refuses point blank to believe that Dhurke had come to visit him, that Dhurke cared about him. Apollo demands to know why Dhurke was there, what Dhurke wanted, how Dhurke was going to use him. He’s been able to slowly start building that trust with people like Trucy, but he still cannot let himself trust again when Dhurke had already betrayed that trust.

I said it before, but as much as I hate the slapdash ways in which Capcom keeps throwing backstory at this boy, I love what the backstories are, because they build on this angry, cynical, lonely young man I care about so much. He’s been hurt and abandoned and used and betrayed since he was young, and being good never truly paid off for so long, but he kept doing it, he kept being good, he kept caring about people because he couldn’t help it, and kept hoping that maybe they could care back. And eventually I think it does start paying off for him. People do start caring about him. And I feel like it takes until around SoJ for him to start really believing that the people around him might care about him too.

Also congrats on finishing SoJ! Since there’s a very good chance that they might be announcing AA7 soon, I...hope? fear? expect? that they’ll touch on this then. However, I also worry that they’re going to botch it up so hard.

I know what I want to happen. I want Trucy to be angry. I want her to be angry at Lamiroir and Phoenix. She is constantly putting on a mask to try to make the people she loves happy, and I feel like this is a reasonable breaking point. After all, this is kind of the one thing that Phoenix hasn’t been honest with her about. She had a brother right there, and knew the whole time?! She had a mother there the whole time?! And no one bothered to tell her?! I think she’d be heartbroken, and I think she deserves to be angry. She’s been through so much, and they never give her time to really grieve or be upset.

I think Apollo would be ecstatic and angry at the same time. All he’s ever wanted was family, and now he does! He already loved Trucy, and thought Lamiroir was amazing, so I think he would be so happy to have that family back in his life. On the flip side, I do think he’d be angry at Phoenix, particularly for keeping it to himself before Lamiroir came into the picture, but I think if they talked it out, Apollo would come around to it and be able to forgive Phoenix.

[amazingorangedangantrash]

Excuse me Orange. I have seen the posts of Makoto interacting with class 77 and as much as I would love to hear about it I'm really curious about how a relationship with class 79 and Makoto would be. More specifically Makoto and Kokichi.

Yes this is because I can't get the fic "Rosemary" out of my head. In summary, Makoto loses his memories and becomes a counsellor at a school in Germany after meeting Rantaro and adopts Kokichi. Besties Rantaro and Makoto with the disaster child that is Kokichi.

Hello anon! Thank you ever so much for being so polite and patient with me :). This post has been a long time coming, and people have requested it ever since I made those class 77 headcanons. I put it off partly because I was worried I wouldn't do the V3 characterisation justice. I based a lot of this off the wiki info, so I highly encourage anyone to add their thoughts or counter if they think of something different!

(Also since pre-game personalities are basically non-existent outside of headcanons, this is based off their killing game personas)

Makoto is excited to greet another school year, and some underclassmen along with it! With all the... interesting characters (turned friends) he's encountered in both his own and the above year, he can only wonder what the new students will be like...

Kaede- out of all the protagonists, I'd say Kaede shares the most similarities with Makoto, moreso than his own sister. These two would definitely get along and make a great tag team- watch out Hope's Peak, because these two will have befriended you before you know it! Makoto definitely admires Kaede's straightforwardness and her optimistic nature. They act as great support for each other if tag teaming another person/persons, as Kaede is bolder then Makoto, whilst Makoto acts well as a medium. They're both extremely loyal, arguably to a fault. Both Kaede and Makoto have lied in a class trial to protective their friend (a detective each time too, lmao). Apparently she also lied for his sake in the demo, which is sweet. I feel like they'd connect well over their mutual optimism and kind hearts. I think Makoto would convince Kaede to step out of her comfort zone- socially, she's very bold, but she strays away from activities that could affect her piano playing (by hurting her fingers) and can waste away a lot of time in the practice room. She misses out on a lot of potentially fun activities that way. On an outing with some others, she accidentally cuts her finger, and whilst Makoto apologises and tells her she was right to be cautious, she waves him aside. Despite being unable to play the piano for a few days, she fills her time with other activities and it actually... doesn't bother her so much. As an 'ordinary person', Makoto helps a lot of talented students by opening their eyes to seeing that their identity doesn't revolve around their talents. In return, Kaede offers to teach Makoto whilst he spends time with her in the practice room. Whilst piano is her favourite, she knows how to play other instruments, and teaches Makoto the violin (maybe you think he'd play a different instrument but violins are my favourite so I'm going with that-). They even practice together, and whilst Kaede still practices nearly every day, she finds that it can actually be even more fun with company.

Shuichi- ah yes, yet another detective. Makoto was initially surprised that they'd accepted another Ultimate Detective, since there's normally only one ultimate at a time in the school (aside from Luck, which is decided each year with a raffle or draw or whatever). It's revealed that Shuichi is actually undergoing part of a new tutoring programme, in order to increase the number of people with talents especially useful to society. He's to be tutored by his upperclassman... *drumroll* Kyoko! Being close with Kyoko and with Kaede, Makoto sees a lot of Shuichi and befriends him too. He helps out with Shuichi's lack of confidence and feelings of inadequacy. Unlike Makoto, Shuichi has an obvious role model that he both aspires to and compares himself against. Unlike Kyoko, Shuichi is much more connected to and feels responsible for the people his detective work condemns. Whereas Kyoko is confident in her goal to obtain the truth, in totally neutrality, Shuichi is hesitant about it, unable to feel unbiased and take a neutral stand. Makoto convinces him this is a good thing, that feeling guilt is normal and is a sign of being a passionate and sympathetic soul. Shuichi doesn't have to be the kind of detective Kyoko is- sometimes that kind of compassionate and caring person is exactly the mindset people want. He also reassures Shuichi that as painful as the truth is, uncovering it means being able to eventually move on, and embrace hope. (He also tells Kyoko to maybe be a bit more... /welcoming/ in their lessons, and eventually Kyoko grows quite fond of her student, discovering a fondess for teaching she didn't know she had).

They're both very humble and polite, and whilst Makoto isn't reserved, he can be very passive. I think the two would appreciate having more of a calm relationship, typical of a 'normal' friendship that is often er- 'lacking' at Hope's Peak. With Kaede's help, Shuichi would open up to Makoto and others over time. I personally headcanon Shuichi to have an anxiety disorder and depressive bouts, so I think someone like Makoto would be a great support friend, for him to go to when he needs company and comfort, someone to listen and to understand, and vice versa to an extent. I like to imagine Makoto, Shuichi and Kaede often spend time together (with Hajime too protag gang ftw). Shuichi likes to study in the music room with them. He's already good at research, but the music actually helps him... enjoy it more. (Maybe he takes up an instrument too, to give him a hobby to focus on, hmm).

Kokichi- Kokichi Ouma. Kokichi Ouma... what do I even say? Trying to wrap my head around his character is like trying to clear the death road of despair in your first try. Still, I'll try my best!

I've seen a headcanon before (i dont remember by who, if you know lmk and I'll credit them) that Makoto via his unpredictable luck would be immune to Kokichi's pranks, and I think that'd set up a pretty good basis for their introduction. I think if Kokichi and Makoto had to describe the other in one word, it would be... "frustrating". At first glance, they're practically opposites- someone like Kokichi, who seems to breathe lies instead of air, and a person like Makoto, who's so honest and open it's almost stupid. Makoto doesn't like how Kokichi lies so much, even if it means people hating him. He almost seems to WANT people to hate him (I think he said once that honest people scare him more than strangers). Makoto has a tendency to break down even the most difficult characters (coughcoguuh class 78 coughcofuh), and that both scares but intrigues Kokichi. Makoto couldn't hate him if he tried (literally the only person he ever even /disliked/ was Junko. Not /hate/, but just /dislike/? Really???), and it frustrates Kokichi that Makoto is so willing to trust him and put faith in him. Makoto isn't blindly optimistic either, he genuinely believes in people, and I think Kokichi would feel envious towards being able to trust so... freely. Part of Kokichi's childish and carefee personality and his perchance for lies is the manifestation of his desire for freedom. If no-one knows what he's thinking, if no one can guess his moves, if no one can use emotions or weaknesses against him, and he can do whatever he wants, isn't that freedom? Except it isn't. By not letting his guard down and being honest with people, in a way, Kokichi's lies have left him trapped, unable to open up out of a fear of vulnerability. Whilst Kokichi would be initially suspicious of Makoto, maybe even distrustful of or uncomfortable around his personality, I think having such a grounded, honest individual whom he can /rely/ on would be... comforting. Kokichi would warm up to him, and see that with Makoto, what you see is what you get. He's above all else, a /genuine/ person, though certainly not an ordinary one, and Kokichi learns to respect and even admire that. Kokichi intentionally pushes people away to avoid expressing vulnerability, by being intentionally unlikeable, but even so I think he's lonely. Pushing away others isn't out of a true desire to be alone (it never is), but a defense mechanism. That tactic wouldn't work on Makoto, and so Makoto could become someone who Kokichi not only considers a friend, but who wholeheartedly returns the sentiment.

Makoto isn't sure what to think of Kokichi at first. He's heard so much about this terrifying new student, an overlord of a secret underground organisation with roots all over the globe... and yet the first time they meet Kokichi is trying to drop a bucket of custard on him. I don't think Makoto would like how Kokichi lies so much- especially about things like killing people or sending them away to never be seen again. It upsets him how Kokichi can joke about it, and how he seems to enjoy toying with people's feelings. When Makoto has a goal, he'll follow it through to the end, so when he's determined to break through Kokichi's walls... well, it's not easy at first. He's also willing to keep Kokichi company and give him attention and hear him out, which Kokichi admittedly likes. Whilst Makoto isn't a pushover, he's also not going to threaten Kokichi or retaliate with mean words, he genuinely listens and entertains Kokichi even though he knows Kokichi is messing with him, which is.. really nice, actually. Even if he tries he can't really shake Makoto that much (pls after all the other -weirdos- people he's met?). Like oh-? They have to duel to the death with yu-gi-oh cards? It's lucky Makoto brought his stack with him! Kokichi orders him to play tea party with him? He loved playing it with Komaru when she was younger and was sad when she stopped! Kokichi tricks him into eating a really gross weird food? How did you know that was a family favourite! Kokichi is fond of Makoto, and is desperate to keep Makoto's attention on him, whilst at the same time not wanting to reveal his true feelings, leading to plenty of complicated situations. Eventually they reach a breaking point (i love drama ok) and whilst Makoto doesn't lash out at him, exactly, he admits that maybe it's best he leaves Kokichi alone, believing that maybe Kokichi truly is content to be the way he is. It's this event that causes Kokichi to realise that Makoto really is someone he'd rather not hurt- that he doesn't just 'like' him but truly cares for him. From then on he tries to dial it down a bit, and Makoto comes to understand how Kokichi's lying and 'cruelty' stems from a place of insecurity and fear of trust. He promises to be a person Kokichi can trust, to show him that vulnerability doesn't have to mean gettint hurt. Whenever the two are around each other all kind of wacky hijinks are bound to ensure, really. Kokichi loves having someone around to not only give him attention, but want to as well, and Makoto enjoys how Kokichi is willing to spend time with and entertain him, pushing him and supporting him in ways that he didn't realise initially. They both find the other extremely interesting, and their encounters usually lead to significant changes in their relationship and mindsets.

I like to imagine they'd spend time playing games and fanboying together- Kokichi adores video games, and it always poses a challenge going against Makoto's luck, which is great for someone competitive as he is. Kokichi also seems a fan of the shounen genre, and 'basic' Makoto is the only other person in the school aside from Hifumi and Tsumugi to even watch anime so you know those two nerds geek out constantly. Kokichi likes to play other kinds of games with Makoto too- and they really like word games- especially two truths one lie. Makoto is... suprisingly good at it. He's pretty poetic, and his genuineness makes it hard to disbelieve him. Which makes it all the more fun when going against Kokichi!

Rantaro- how would these two describe each other in 5 words? "A breath of fresh air". They're both some of the "normal-est" in the school tbh. It's really great for both of them to have someone to do normal teen stuff with. They love going shopping together, hanging out at cafes and arcades. They actually meet when looking for a birthday present for their sister(s). They both reach for the same one before apologising and insisting the other have it. Rantaro insists Makoto take it, since, well, it's not like /his/ sister would get it anytime soon... confused, Makoto asks why and somehow Rantaro ends up confessing the whole thing about his sisters' disappearances, and how he always buys a present for each of their birthdays, waiting for the day when he can give them to them in person. (Pls why does this always end up with makoto counselling the students akdhsjsj-). Makoto could definitely sympathise, having a younger sister of his own. I think they'd bond over that "older brother" role they share, and Makoto would definitely help alleviate some of Rantaro's guilt. I like to imagine that Makoto, whilst being a 'typical teenage boy', also has a lot of feminine interests that he might be a bit insecure about. I love the idea of Rantaro encouraging him to embrace that (guy has like 12 sisters, he gave up feeling shy about makeup, nail polish, jewellery and dressing up in tiaras years ago). Rantaro is the first person to paint Makoto's nails and he loves it so much-!!! They go out for boba together and wear matching green nail polish pls its awesome. Rantaro also tells Makoto stories from when he was travelling and its also amazing- Makoto loves hearing all about it, and Rantaro is actually an incredible storyteller. Though Rantaro initially adventured to find his sister(s), he remembers why he loved travelling in the first place, and he's able to look back fondly on those memories that used to be clouded with the despair of his sisters' disappearance. They even go on vacation together to a tropical island at some point (maybe with friends). I'd like to say Makoto's luck might even lead to them finding one of the sisters, but maybe that's a bit too coincidental ahaha.

Miu- hmm. I think Makoto would be a little put off at first by her vulgarity and very openly sexual and crude behaviour. It's not that he dislikes her, he just isn't really sure... how to react around her? Her and Kaede don't get along, and Makoto often finds himself playing peacemaker when he stumbles upon their arguments. To his surprise, though, she seems to actually... like it when they fight? In fact- she seems to like it when people give her the time of day at all, really. Maybe she's just... lonely? And well, she can be a bit... um- /obnoxious/, but she can't be that bad! Making him go to see her weird (weird) inventions, that must be her way of reaching out and trying to spend time with him, right?

And then she starts calling him "Ma-crap-to", "Naegidiot", "Makusoto", and "Na-unchi"

nevermind she sucks

Makoto, with his saintly patience, would probably end up getting closer to her similar how Shuichi does in his FTEs. (I'll be honest there's not much difference I can think of akdjsjjssksj-)

Kaito- Kaito! Who doesn't love Kaito. It's no secret Kaito thinks himself the centre of the Universe (insert space joke here haha)- he's the protagonist of his own life, and luckily for him, Makoto fits quite nicely into the sidekick role. Both of them are passionate, with big hearts and strong spirits. Kaito is really good at seeing through people too- (idk how accurate this is but apparently in the wiki it says he sees that Nagito isn't interested in his talent or him as a person so much as him as a symbol). Whilst Makoto obviously has a lot of respect and admiration for all the talented students, I feel like it's a lot more... genuine? In a way that he can appreciate the person behind the talent, more than the talent itself. Kaito is someone who likes to inspire people and I think this would resonate with him. I think the two could seriously get along! They're both hopeless (haha) romantics and stupidly optimistic lmao. Kaito can be a little hotheaded at times, so I also like the idea that Makoto could calm him down, or at least reel him in a bit. He's stubborn when it comes to... um.. certain types of people (kokichi) so maybe Makoto could open his mind a bit.

Maki: MAKI ROLLLL. Ok I'm sure she'd probably have to hide her talent until it all came out at some point. I think Makoto is someone who's very against killing (even Junko he believed there was a better way for), so whilst he wouldn't agree with her talent, I think he wouldn't hold it against Maki, especially because he's very good at separating person from talent. Makoto is very understanding, and I think that like with Kaito, he would try to befriend her and open her up. He'd probably feel bad for her, not knowing what a "normal" life was like, so he'd try his best to do that. I think Maki in turn would appreciate that, and slowly get to know him like she did with Kaito and Shuichi. (She also likes complaining to him about Kaito lmao).

(he also takes her out for sushi so she can see for herself what a harumaki is LOL)

I'm sorry anon, this is as far as I could go aksnjjssj. When I feel up to it I'll try and make a part 2 to this, but I hope this is good for now?

(Also that fic sounds awesome and I'll definitely have to read it at some point)

[wickedscribbles]

Come What May, Chapter Two

A/N: Enjoy! You can find up to Chapter 9 on my Ao3 if you get antsy for more; my username is just WickedScribbles. :) 

Masterlist

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Original Female Character (Second Person Perspective) 

Rating: Explicit

Tags: female masturbation, male masturbation, first kisses, admission of feelings, Obi-Wan ain’t give a fuck he’s getting some, that’s not how the Force works, discussion of the Jedi Code, Obi-Wan is a switch and you can’t change my mind, come marking

Word Count: 4.9 K

After the awkward ship ride home to Coruscant, Master Obi-Wan seems to make it his mission to stay as far away from you as possible. In the Temple, this isn't hard to do; most floors and rooms were meant to hold dozens, if not hundreds of people, and Obi-Wan knows its halls better than most.

It’s admirable, how he’s managed to vanish in a place that adores him so much. Have you seen Master Obi-Wan? is always followed by, Oh, you just missed him or No, I haven’t seen him. The most you’ve been able to see in weeks is the edge of his cloak slipping around a corner. A startled look over his shoulder as he flees the gardens, realizing that you’re meditating there, too. If you’re both attending a council meeting, you swear he ignores you so vehemently that you start to doubt your own existence.

And his life Force? Forget about it. He's shoved it down so tightly that he might as well not exist to you. You find yourself pining for it. If he's determined to never interact with you again, you had hoped to at least feel his Force touch yours, even in a friendly way. It's almost as if he yanked a part of your own essence away when he withdrew that night in Odryn. Something feels missing from you. In the mess hall, you start asking for cinnamon tea. It tastes flavorless.

In some ironic twist, now you're the one tormented by dreams. But each one leaves you right on the edge, with no one to reach out to. Alone in your quiet room, gasping for air as the details of the dream drain away the more awake you become. Obi-Wan. Smirking down at your naked body. Hands. Tongues. Breath. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. Each time it happens, you bring yourself to climax, face muffled deep into your pillow, biting down a cry of his name.

Hesitant, you touch the thick cloud of life Force all around you. You have to swallow the bile rising in your throat. It's like slogging through floodwaters with Jedi on all sides; far too overwhelming. You have to pull out almost immediately, the sensation akin to being drowned under the weight of information.

You can feel the signatures of every Force-sensitive in the Temple, from the smallest youngling all the way to Master Yoda. They all have a presence. Lying on your back, you stare up at the ceiling with a fading sense of nausea. If you ever want to speak with Obi-Wan again, you’re going to have to get better at this.

Two more weeks pass before you can re-enter this headspace. Inhale, exhale. Don't try too hard to keep a rhythm. Body relaxed. Mind at ease. Then...you dive in.

Lit candles and a holonovel. Leaning on an old cane. The smell of blaster fire. Giggling and playing tag with your creche mates. Lying in a medbay bed, watching sunlight streak the window. Feeling fear wrench in your gut at the thought that this war might never end. Watching your Padawan twirl her sabers, her lekku flying behind her. Sitting cross-legged in the library tower, thinking about things you shouldn't.

The last one is him -- it has to be. There’s no other Force here that feels like this; the same mix of emotions run through it that you felt before. But now, they feel muted, pushed down under a working consciousness. You’re not sure you would’ve been able to sense it at all, had you not already made the connection.

Though you're still reeling from a dozen other sensations, you get to your feet. The library’s halfway across the Temple -- you trip and nearly fall flat in your haste to get there in time. Your urgency earns you more than a few strange looks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You don’t even have a plan for what to say when you get there; all you know is that you need to see him again.

You slow to a walk when you reach the library’s entrance, trying to blend in with those coming and going. It’s the middle of the afternoon, the perfect time of day to be here if you wanted to go unnoticed. Younglings have just been released from their lessons, roaming the aisles. They chatter at a poorly managed volume, despite their minder’s warning. Older Masters roam to and fro as well. Some are glued to holodisplays, others watch the younglings play with fond smiles.

But where are you, Master Kenobi?

Dodging a group of Padawans, you scan the perimeter. Nodding hellos and exchanging brief greetings, your heart begins to drop the longer you investigate. It wasn’t him. All that work, for you to be wrong. Whatever connection had occurred on that mission is unwanted on his end -- so much that he's actively pretending that you aren't alive. Jedi are supposed to be good at letting go of attachments -- are forbidden from forming them -- so why does this sting? You turn to the library’s exit, fist clenched tight. Then, you hear it.

“Thanks, Master Kenobi!”

“Of course, Padawan. Any time.”

A short Rhodesian girl darts past you, beaming as she holds her unlit lightsaber with newfound determination.

Only years of discipline and training keep you from bolting past her like a Jawa to a shipwreck. Taking a deep breath, you round the corner. There he is. Finally. Sitting cross-legged, just as you’d seen him through the Force, warmed by the sun coming in through one of the high windows. He doesn’t look up when you spot him -- his brow is furrowed (like it was when he -- no, not here) like what he’s reading is too important to take his eyes off of.

Is it your imagination, or has he gotten prettier since you’ve had the chance to get a good look at him? His hair’s longer -- it’s starting to curl near his ears. The beard’s a little bushier, but still well kept. Obi-Wan brings a hand to his mouth, stroking it lightly. Maker. You swear the ghost sensation of the hair is still tickling your lips, though it’s never really been there.

Well, you didn’t track him down to stare.

You walk over to his small table in the corner, and he only looks up when your hand is on the back of the unoccupied chair. Must be one fascinating holotext. If your heart wasn’t pounding, you might have laughed at the expression that crossed Obi-Wan’s face before he composed himself. His eyebrows threatened to disappear right into his hairline. How many people could say that they’d caught Master Kenobi off guard in such a manner?

“Master,” you greet, bowing in a show of respect. “May I have a word with you?” You have to pull your hand off of the chair so that he can’t see it trembling.

For a moment he looks at you, apparently lost for words. You wish you knew what he was thinking -- or even better, could feel his life Force mingled with yours. You practically grieve it with him right in front of you, but unable to feel a thing. It’s torture, waiting for him to either accept or dismiss you with no hint about which he’ll do. At last, with the smallest of sighs, he closes the holotext and straightens.

“I suppose I can spare a moment,” says Obi-Wan, getting to his feet. “Come with me.”

Feeling like a youngling again, you follow him out of the library and into a hall that you’ve hardly ever been down. Together, you pass no one but a few busy cleaning droids. Neither one of you says a word as he pauses in front of a door, keying in a code. Looking around to make sure that no one’s watching, Obi-Wan waves you in before he follows. The door locks behind him.

It’s an abandoned training room. Still clean due to the presence of droids, it’s nonetheless clear that no living thing has set foot in here for some time. Wooden sparring sticks lie in a pile next to the door, and an outdated holoprojector sits in the far corner. The small size surprises you -- a room this large would likely only hold around half a dozen students. You imagine that’s why it’s no longer used.

“Please, sit.” Master Obi-Wan gestures to a floor mat, and you drop onto it obediently. He mirrors your assumed posture, back straight and ankles crossed. As if this was an out-of-the-way meditation session, not a tense confrontation that you’d been trying to have for weeks.

“You’re a hard man to find, Master,” you say, hoping to break the tension.

He ducks his head, the slightest hint of color creeping over his cheeks. “Yes. Well. War does keep one busy.” You watch his fingers drum on top of his knee, a habit never seen before. Is he anxious?

You nod. “Of course. And yet I notice that I haven’t been assigned any more missions.” When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“Our... mission on Odryn seemed to meet the Council’s standards.” Your tone is light, cautious. It’s true that you’ve been stuck in the Temple since then, with many other Knights coming and going. Hard not to believe that Obi-Wan hasn’t had a hand in where you get assigned. Or if.

Obi-Wan takes in a sharp breath, turning away. Was that going too far? He’s silent a moment before speaking, his tone lower than you’re used to hearing it. “Young one, I...that is to say...accompanying you that day was a mistake.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, a look familiar to you from watching him chase Anakin Skywalker around.

You’re genuinely curious when you ask what he means.

“What I mean is--” the blush on his face is darkening, and you lower your eyes, biting off a smile. Cute, your mind tells you again.

“I knew that there was -- that I -- felt something toward you. That offering myself as a volunteer to go with you on the Odryn mission was a poor choice. That my thoughts would -- that I might --” He breaks off, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Yet I went anyway. I am so sorry for what followed.” Obi-Wan looks ashamed, not meeting your eyes when you go searching for his.

Ashamed? Sorry? Poor choice? That’s...the complete opposite of how you feel.

Felt something toward you! Your brain screams in retaliation, alight with joy that you hadn’t hallucinated the whole ordeal.

“Do you...remember anything?” you ask timidly. “The dream?”

“I remember enough,” he replies, not seeming to want to discuss it further. “Enough to be consumed with guilt for what you had to witness. I assure you -- I swear -- that every moment since has been dedicated to severing the bond I mistakenly forged. To improving myself as a Jedi.”

For several seconds, you have no clue what he could mean. Then it hits -- he thinks that everything that happened was all his doing. That you were a bystander, a -- a victim.

“Obi-Wan,” you stammer. You’ve never called him that before, and it feels far too intimate once it leaves your mouth. He looks up, blue eyes full of chagrin. “Did you really think that was all you?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Can I...could I just show you?” You swallow. Oh please I’ve missed you, please.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth, then frowns, seeming to think better of it. After a moment of hesitation he simply closes his eyes and inclines his head, an invitation. So relieved you could cry, you close your eyes in turn and drop your shoulders, relaxing. Yes, oh stars, yes. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan.

When you reach, the door to his life Force is open -- barely ajar, but open all the same. This time you’re the eager one, the neglected one, and your Force greets him like a long lost friend. He wraps around you, hesitant but willing to take you, to listen. You feel tears slip down your face before pushing harder.

Sunshine, tea, cinnamon, cedarwood, shame shame shame. His purest parts clouded with it, making your chest ache so deep you can’t catch a proper breath. This isn’t right. This isn’t the whole picture. You long to make him understand. To let him know that you want him every bit as much as he wanted you that day, and so you flex forward and show.

You hear him gasp from the sheer volume of it. All your desire, watching him sleep and dream of you. Feeling the ebb and flow of his thoughts and thinking you’d never touched a more beautiful life Force. Watching his fantasy about you and feeding back one of your own. When you play back your affection toward him -- before Odryn and after -- he makes the smallest sound under his breath. And when you show him how you came just from feeling his orgasm, right there on the jungle floor, he withdraws from your mind so painfully it feels like a blow to the head.

“Stop,” he chokes out, eyes wild. “I -- I get the picture.” His hands clench tight to the material of his robes, arms crossed over his midsection.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, wiping your face. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you -- but you need to know. It’s not just you.”

Both hands bridge in front of Obi-Wan’s mouth as he stares straight ahead. “I'm not sure if this is better or worse.”

“Why?” You lean forward, unable to keep the desperate note out of your voice. “Master -- Obi-Wan -- I don’t see the issue. This appears to be… highly mutual.” You let your eyes dart down to his waist, which he’s still keeping hidden from you. He catches your look and bites his lip, and never in your life have you wanted to break a rule more. Because you know exactly what he’s going to say before he even has a chance to explain.

“Sometimes I forget how young you are,” he sighs, shifting under your gaze. “You know why. The Code -- attachments are exactly the sort of thing we can’t have.” But you can hear how his breathing’s gone shallow and shaky. His own eyes are lingering on your mouth, like he’s imagining if you taste like you do in his dreams.

“I think that’s an outdated rule.” You cross your arms, not missing the way his gaze now bounces down to your lifted breasts. “You’re attached to Anakin. And his Padawan, Ahsoka.”

“That’s…” Obi-Wan sighs.

“If either were about to die on the battlefield, would you not run to save them? Or leave it to fate?” You quirk an eyebrow, knowing his answer.

“I suppose you’ve got me there. But that’s not -- not the same attachment. It’s familial, not -- this.” He glances up at you shyly. “I can say with full confidence that Anakin has never tempted me in the ways that you have.”

“You’re one of the only people in the Temple he hasn’t, then,” you laugh, trying not to bask in the thought that he’s just said you tempt him. Obi-Wan grins back. A bit of that sunbeam feeling returns, though his Force is nowhere near yours at the moment.

“Anakin has a...fast and loose relationship with the Jedi Code. Even more so now that I am no longer his Master,” he chuckles. “Still. I have to assert that this is a different matter.”

“Hmm.” You frown, feigning contemplation though your mind is already set. “What if we... promise not to get attached? To fall in love? Would that feel safe enough for you?” A long shot.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, giving you a sad sort of smile. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible, dear. I’ve seen your thoughts. You’ve seen mine.” The seeds have already sprouted, he doesn’t say.

Unable to help it, you scoot closer until your knees touch his. “That’s too bad. I -- I really wanted to kiss you, Master.”

And there -- you’ve struck a nerve. Simply addressing him as Master in such a sweet, plaintive tone is enough. Obi-Wan practically flinches, lips pressed tight together. His eyes are bright and longing, looking right into yours now. His lashes are longer than mine. You know without looking into his mind that he remembers that particular part of his dream. Finding you in his room, bare but for your long, brown cloak.

For a moment, you stare at one another. Then he takes a deep breath. “Well. In for a chit, in for a credit,” he murmurs, and presses his mouth against yours.

Oh, it’s soft. So gentle. The barest touch of lips, yet it makes you shiver. You place a hand on his cheek with a happy hum, so glad you were able to convince him. Obi-Wan answers with a satisfied sound of his own, inching further into the kiss. When he presses harder, his moustache threatens to go up your nose. You pull away instinctively, fighting not to giggle.

“Not good?” Obi-Wan’s mouth is still inches from your own, his innocent question full of concern.

“No, it’s fine. But you’re a little,” you grin, “fuzzy.”

“Oh.” His hand drops to his mouth as if he’d never considered it before. “You’re right, I suppose. It is getting to be a bit much. Should I shave it?”

“No!”

“Trim it, then.”

“Later,” you breathe, coming for his lips at a less direct angle.

“Mm! Mmm…”

The urgency of his tone betrays him as he claims your mouth again, more confident this time. Obi-Wan’s legs fall open loosely, and you crawl forward to sit between them, not quite in his lap. His arms come around you, fingers tight on your shoulder blades. You let your mouth fall open against his closed lips as you pant, heart hammering. Gods, he’s strong. The knowledge that he could easily be rough with you -- and yet his mind shows that all he wants is to be gentle -- only makes you want him more.

Obi-Wan’s lips open against yours in turn, and you whimper at his breath mingling with your own, hot and inquisitive. You curl a hand in his hair, wondering if he’ll have the reaction you imagined in your Force projection. He doesn’t disappoint -- with a needy little gasp, he pulls you forward, effectively placing you onto the very erection he’s been trying so hard to hide. His cock flexes up into your core. Oh kriff yes there, your body sings, applying the lightest pressure back.

This time Obi-Wan is the one to pull away, dropping his forehead to your cheek. You slide back to the floor, leaning back on your palms.

“Would now be a bad time to say that I have no idea what I’m doing?” he admits with a breathless laugh. His Force is trickling back open like he can’t seem to help it, and oh, do you like what you feel.

You laugh too, just as flustered. “Doesn’t seem like it, Master.”

“I’m flattered, but really. I’m rather clueless. I assume from the way you’ve spoken about attachments that you are...not.” You sense curiosity from him, though he says nothing more about it. In return, you offer your thoughts. It’s easier -- and far less embarrassing -- to show. Your eyes seek Obi-Wan’s, asking permission to join his life Force again. He inhales shakily, and you don’t miss how tightly his hands are clenched in his lap.

Pressing a kiss to his temple, you re-enter, gentler this time. Truthfully, the experiences you have to offer aren’t that impressive. Fervent touches with a few fellow Knights who also had little to no experience, but passion in spades. Your hands on your own body, long after night had fallen at the Temple. Obi-Wan observes these parts of you, not critical or judgemental. Instead, you’re met only with his growing attraction to you, his consistent relief that what occurred on Odryn was not his fault (but you started it, you tease.).

And you? You prod. His Force shrinks a little, nervous, before opening to you further on the topic.

He hadn’t lied. In conscious practice, there’s nothing. You sift through years and years of thought in fast-forward and he’s never even laid a hand on himself, though the urge to simmers far closer to the surface than he prefers. This...definitely explains the lack of certain details in his dream. Aside from intimacy displayed by couples he’s seen out and about on-planet, he doesn’t have much to go on. This isn’t a topic they teach you as a youngling. Because why would a Jedi need to know? You remember your own firsts, everything coated with disquietude.

“Told you,” he mutters, breaking your concentration. When you open your eyes, he’s giving you a classic Kenobi smirk. Uncertainty lingers behind the kind crinkle of his eyes, anxiety that he can’t quite banish. Neither of you address it. “Are you still so eager to break the rules?” Do I still appeal to you?

In answer, you graze your mouth over his once more. When you tug at Obi-Wan’s bottom lip with your teeth, the pile of sparring sticks in the corner collapses and scatters.

“This is a training room,” you say between kisses, adrenaline flooding your veins at the noises he’s making. Quiet gasps ascend into groans the more daring you get with your tongue, his fingers trembling on your shoulder. “So we should make the best of it. Get some more experience under our belts.”

“I like -- your phrasing,” Obi-Wan manages. "But I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stop talking," one of his hands snakes to your ass and you squeak in surprise, "and come here."

Gladly, you have time to think at him, before he grabs your hips and lifts you right back into his lap. Nothing shy about it this time -- he's put you directly on his clothed cock.

Now you're the one caught off guard, and he can sense it all over you. How badly you want it. How long you've imagined. You must smell like need. Locking eyes with you, Obi-Wan rolls his hips into your cunt, slow and purposeful. When you whine, something seems to click in his expression -- like he's filing the information away.

I see.

See wh-- !

But you're not allowed to finish the thought. In one motion, Obi-Wan is rising up and over you, crowding you onto the floor under him. You lie there, the training mat stiff underneath you, as he continues to survey you. His hips press yours firmly into the floor, a delicious pressure as you lie flat and he sits astride you.

“There are several options running through your mind, little one,” he says at last, and you blush. No one’s called you that since you were a youngling, tripping over the hem of your robes and envying the Padawans with their lightsabers. To hear him refer to you as little, when you’re pinned under his arousal, does something to you. “Show me the one you want the most.”

Licking your lips at the way his curious look has morphed to one of hunger, you offer the image that has gotten you to climax for the past few nights. You had been desperate to be claimed by the one person who hadn’t seemed to want you.

How things have changed, you muse, watching his eyes go wide as he watches the scene play out in his own mind. Obi-Wan’s full lips part on a silent moan as it vanishes, blinking back to reality slowly.

“Yes. Yes, I think we can manage that.” His voice is so soft, a contrast to the hard press of his cock and hips. “Pull your tunic up for me.”

You scramble to obey, exposing the flat planes of your stomach, then the curve of your breasts. The sturdy material of the tunic is gathered up near your neck, leaving your torso bare for him. Obi-Wan reaches down to swipe the pad of his thumb over one nipple, making you squirm under his hold. He purrs at the desperate sensation it incites in your core, feeling it almost as you do through the Force.

Staying silent as he’d asked you to, you nonetheless beg him to hurry, both with your eyes and through the Force. You know he wants this just as badly -- can feel the stiffness of his cock and the arousal pooling in his gut as surely as if it was your own body -- yet he takes his time here.

So when he finally palms his dick through his trousers, forcing it flat against your stomach, you mewl for him. Your hands reach up to dig into his thighs, urging him on.

Exhaling through his nose, Obi-Wan continues to palm himself through the material, sucking in a gasp when he finally lets himself wrap a hand around it and squeeze.

“Out of everything you imagined,” he murmurs, undoing the ties on his pants deftly, “this is really what you want most?” His erection peeks out at you now, straining his underwear. With a bob of Obi-Wan’s hand, that too is pulled out of the way. Fucking -- Maker --

“Yes,” you whimper, mouth watering for it.

It feels like you’ve waited years to have Obi-Wan’s heavy, naked cock lying full on your stomach. He’s thicker than anyone you’ve been with, and flushed red with want. The tip is already dripping, warm on your cool skin. He grabs it firmly in his right hand, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as he gives it a slow pull. Powerless to stop yourself from wanting a closer look, you prop yourself up on your elbows. Your heart jumps to your throat as the extra attention makes him flush.

Those lovely eyes, framed by copper lashes, dart away from yours as he tugs harder, biting a knuckle to keep from crying out. Kriff, you wish he wouldn’t. You want his overstimulated sounds almost as much as you want his come smearing your chest.

One hand works his shaft at an increasing pace as the other tenses in the material of his tunic. "Always -- so much," he confesses in a gasp. "Such a m-mess to wake up to." And indeed, pre-come is dribbling down his cock and hand in rivulets now, pooling below your belly button.

"I've never," he shudders, shoulders tensing, "never done this -- on purpose --" Obi-Wan looks down at you, not really seeing, brows knitted with desperation. The normally composed Jedi is falling apart, and it’s driving you insane. "I can f-feel it about to happen." In his fist, his cock is making obscenely wet sounds as he covers it with his own juices.

"How -- how close?" you ask, unable to take your eyes off of the way he's working his hips in tight little thrusts now. Fucking into his hand like no matter how fast he strokes, it won’t be enough. You feel like your hips will be bruised by how hard he’s pinning you into the training mat, but you can’t bring yourself to give a damn.

“Close --” he whines, ducking his head, face screwed up as he pants. Obi-Wan’s hand and wrist are a blur as he pleasures himself, balls drawing up in anticipation. His hair is a mess, so untidy from its normal neat part, and you wish you could run your hands through it. “Oh, gods -- oh, gods --” His Force is blazing with the chase, teetering on the edge of an orgasm he’s never been able to fully experience. Going to come all over you, stars, feels so good --

“Please, Master, please,” you beg, shoving his hips further up your torso. You’re soaking in your underwear, waiting for him to mark you.

You see it in his eyes three seconds before it happens. They go completely round with wonder, a hand slamming over his mouth as the first spurts of hot come streak your stomach.

Little one, stars -- I’m coming, I’m coming -- oh f-fuck fuck --

Though Obi-Wan hardly lets more than a whimper escape past his own hand, you hear everything loud and clear in your mind. It’s every bit as intense as you remember from that day on Odryn, and you clench as his aftershocks roll through your empty cunt. Rope after rope of come covers your chest, from the bottom of your stomach to the hollow of your throat. The scent of it coats your nostrils, thick and musky and Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter closed, hand falling from its grip over his mouth. “That -- that was…”

“Messy,” you joke, offering a smile. Incredible, you add as a hint of embarrassment creeps into your bond. When you reiterate how good it felt to watch him losing himself in the pleasure of it, he relaxes again. With a sigh, he eases off of your hips and tucks his wilting cock back into his trousers, settling down on his side next to you.

“You do look rather pretty like that,” he admits quietly, cheeks still flushed from exertion.

“Just wait until we actually take our clothes off, Master.”

“Pfft.” Obi-Wan leans in and kisses you, as gentle as the first time. “I have to tell you something,” he adds, voice lowered to a conspiratorial volume though you’re alone.

“What is it?”

“You taste like that dreadful tea they serve in the mess.”

[cyanide-latte]

Hmmmmm thoughts on books you think are overrated/get too much undeserved attention? Like something that's super popular and you just don't get why? 🤔

Oh ho ho, Lottie always here with the big questions to make me think!

You know, I sometimes find myself wondering if social media platforms where the bookish community is active and thriving doesn't result in some kind of echo chamber that contributes to why some books of modeling and mediocre quality get so popular and overhyped? BookTube, much as I enjoy watching some content creators, does this, and I'm sure the same is true for Bookstagram, BookTok, etc. Publishing companies and booksellers notice content creators with a large viewership, so they offer sponsorships and free gifts in exchange for the creator pushing something that sponsor wants pushed. Which then eventually results in an echo chamber of many, many people hyping up something that really isn't all that amazing, no matter how popular it is. I strongly think that's part of it.

But then there are books where I see they're extremely popular and genuinely scratch my head over it. I almost thought I wouldn't be able to think of an example for this but almost immediately one popped into my head and I'll probably get shit for my unpopular opinion, but...

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo.

Now, here's why I know my opinion is unpopular. I enjoyed her original Grisha trilogy when I read it. I've got mixed feelings about several aspects of it, but I enjoyed the story. Most people find it boring or too trope-y or "standard/generic YA fantasy", whatever the blessed fuck that means. But I've not seen a single damn person do anything but praise her Six of Crows duology.

So, I've not yet started the second book in the duology, Crooked Kingdom, though it's on my backlist TBR to read for 2022. But I read Six of Crows dubiously because it was so hyped. Because WOW it's a heist book and that's never been done before and WOW the main cast checks off the hot keyword diversity boxes and WOW even though it's YA you won't think it's YA because it feels so *~Adult~* and not trashy it's practically more like New Adult fiction instead of YA, and WOW WOW WOW!

.........

I read the book. I liked the characters. And there were elements of the plot that were interesting. But the pacing. Dear God, the pacing. 2/3rds of that book is just flashbacks giving us characters' backgrounds, and it's interspersed in a somewhat haphazard way throughout the main "presently-occurring" plotline. It was disruptive, and realizing that the actual plot of the book barely filled a third of its near 700-some page count made me question a lot of things about what Bardugo was doing. What was she being told to do by her editors? Why didn't she make a series of novella prequels for the backstories and then the rest of the book? Heck, could've put that all in the book still without disrupting the narrative flow. OR, given how little of the book was "present time", could have made one book all the backstories, then made Crooked Kingdom somewhat longer than it is to contain the whole thing. Especially considering the way Six of Crows ends on a cliffhanger to set up almost the entire plot for the sequel, when they only barely accomplished the initial heist plot very quickly if you cut out the flashbacks and condense that "present time" together. Could have been done very differently and much better from a structural perspective.

But that wasn't what happened and it made me question why the book was written the way it was, and why so many people (especially people I'd watched long enough to know they normally wouldn't be able to stay engaged with such a writing technique,) think it's amazing. Is it solely because it hits diversity checkboxes? Is it because the idea of a heist plot in a fantasy setting seemed very new and shiny? (I'm pretty sure that's actually been done before. Maybe not in a book targeted at a YA demographic but I'm fairly sure I've seen it done before.) Is it just that SoC is a Hi-Lo book [re: High-interest, Low-vocabulary; entertaining and 'easy' to read, without being inherently childish]? I don't know. I may never know. But I don't get why it (and many other books out there) are so overrated and overhyped and adored when they're more mediocre than most people will admit.