feverish thoughts

#bnhainktober day 5: fav quirk goes to todoroki’s icyhot quirk!! (ft. midoriya and iida)

useful in battle? check. making ur friends happy?? CHECK ✓ 

the list of prompts that i’m using: (x)

Irreplaceable (Pt.2)

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Pairing: Jimin X Reader

Fandom: BTS

Summary:  “Would you do whatever it takes to make someone fall in love with you?”


Originally posted by apgujeon

The dated text message was the only one that was sent to your phone, still sitting silently, unanswered. Two weeks had passed since he’s asked you to come visit him at work, and two weeks have past but you spent almost every hour thinking about it. You expected more from him, wondering why he never bothered to call or text you anymore. The more you’d think about it the further you’d fall, thinking in circles trying to analyze it yourself without contacting him first. It was true you were always the one to message him first but you knew it was because he was just busy or conveniently already around considering how often you spent with the other boys.

But now those just seemed like dumb excuses when you found him making time for others way easier than he ever did with you. The crisp winter air was hitting your cheeks as you walked along the side walk, headed back to the company. There was a heavy brisk feeling weighed over your shoulders, trying to be strong. You wondered if today would be no different than it had been. The chances of him not being there with everyone once more didn’t seem likely but definitely further away than impossible. You couldn’t help but question if you were making the right choice on leaving everything up to him. What if he thought you were no longer interested? In that case he should just fight for you. No, why would he need to do that when he could already have you? But why should you be easy for him? 

You instinctively shook your head from the feverish thoughts, trying to think of happier things when being greet by the security guard in the front of the building, it was useless to show off your unhappiness.

“Good morning.” You smiled.

“Good morning, miss.” 

It would only be a few more seconds before you would storm straight into Jimin’s workspace to catch his attention, showing him everything he had been missing out on, all while wearing your best clothes. You confidently placed your hands on the door, pushing them open with ease. He spun around in his chair, looking over at you innocently. Damn, that innocent look.

“Y/N, Good morning.” Jimin smiled, revealing his alluring smile.

“Good morning, have you seen Yoongi?”

“Yoongi? Not since I left the dorm. You guys are still hanging out, huh?”

You nodded, fiddling with the end of your long sleeve, sheer shirt. 

“Did you dress up for him? You look so good today, darling.” 

Suddenly your sides were met with the warmth of Jimin’s hands, as he attempted to pull you down into his lap. With a giggle, you leaned in close to his face, cupping it with your hands delicately. As you come close enough to kiss his lips you stop.

“You’re so sweet.”  

 You softly pushed his hands away, taking a step back. 

“Sorry, I can’t stay. I left my phone in Yoongi’s studio last night so I came to pick it up, I have a date today.” You admitted, smiling brightly. 

Jimin’s smile instantly faded, causing him to stand up from his chair. His sudden change in expression was a surprise, knowing he doesn’t try to show off when he’s feeling negatively towards something. You wanted him to show the streak of random jealously he had been having towards you and you easily pried it from him only using a sentence to do so. Before he could even get out what he planned to say, his office door opened once more showing a girl around your age standing in the doorway. 

“Oh, i’m sorry, am I interrupting?” She asked, switching eye contact with the both of you. 

You didn’t dare respond, recognizing her face the instant you saw her standing there. Jimin gave her a warm smile as though he was going back to the way he was before, waving her over. 

“You can come in. What is it?”

She meekly stepped as close to him as possible, leaning in to his ear. You couldn’t hear the words she was whispering to him but it was easy to tell the topic with the giggling coming from him.

“You’re such a good girl for listening.” You heard him whisper back in a such a low voice it gave you shivers down your spine. 

The atmosphere on it’s own was making you sick, watching him flirt like he does when it’s just the two of you. You could see his fingers pulling her wrist closer, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. A few more seconds of it and you were bound to lose your composure. Yoongi had meant every word he had told you 2 weeks ago, only trying to warn you. 

“I guess i’ll see you around then, excuse me.” You moved past the two of them but not without Jimin taking notice of the shakiness in your tone. He looked past the girl, watching you leave the room in front of him. The girl turned his head towards her, pouting at his loss of attention.

“Who’s she?” 

“Someone you don’t need to know.” He sighed. 


“The plan was a complete failure, god, I’m so dumb Yoongi.” 

You sobbed, sitting on the sidewalk outside of the building, talking to him on the phone. It was absolutely freezing outside but you didn’t want any of the other members seeing you, telling Jimin anything about this. At least your hot tears gave off a warming comfort to your new pain. At least now you knew it was officially over with, there was no way you could just act like nothing didn’t happen. Sure, you knew he was seeing other girls occasionally but seeing it was a whole new feeling to wrap your head around. You almost wanted to use the memory to beat into your head for being so naive. 

“Yeah, she just walked in when I almost had him interested and when she was there it was like nothing else in the world mattered. The person I looked at like that was doing the same to someone else right in front of me. Why am I such an idiot?”

“Did I not tell you that already?” Yoongi joked on the other end.

You couldn’t help but crack a smile, trying to wipe your tears on your scarf. 

“I want to be one of those girls that really makes him want to pay for it but I can’t. I can’t help being weak around him and it’s pathetic. Even this morning I was still thinking about him. I kept wondering what it would have been like if we got to spend winter mornings like this together. It’s my fault for falling in love with someone I told I could be casual with.”

“Look, how about I talk to him? We usually avoid it because he gets mad at me for butting in but I don’t just want to sit around while you’re crying your eyes out.”


“I’m serious. I’ll kick his ass if I have to!”

You started chuckling, feeling slightly better than you were going to admit. There was no way he’d actually get in a fight with someone as close to him as Jimin so you knew he was joking around to make you laugh. At least it brightened your mood up for a few seconds. 

“Yeah, right. Calm down, honey boy. I don’t need you to hurt him. I just wish things didn’t turn out like this, but like I said, it’s my fault for falling for some fantasy. Look, I’m gonna go get coffee or something. I’ll bring you one later, okay?”

The reluctant sigh on the other end told you just how well your best friend knew you.

“Don’t do anything dumb Y/N.”

“yeah, yeah I won’t.” You groaned, hanging up on your end. 

Slowly, you rose from the concrete, pulling your scarf over your mouth to keep you warm. The vocal sigh you let out didn’t cover the footsteps you could hear behind you, causing you to quickly wipe away any remaining evidence of your tears. Your body was stricken with fear assuming Jimin had followed you out, hearing everything you had just spilled on the phone about him. You spun your body around but there was nobody there at all. Now you really felt as though you were losing it.  As you walked off to the nearest coffee shop, Jimin finally stepped out from the column in front of the building. He had only heard part of what you said but it was enough to get the jist of the situation. 


        Wednesday 12:47 A.M


          “Y/N, meet me in front of the dorms after you read this. I know it’s late but I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

3 days after getting your heart ripped out of your chest a text message woke you up right before you were able to close your eyes for bed. The brightened light made you squint trying to look at it but you groaned, falling back on your bed as you read his name.


        “I’m not really in the mood.”


         “Please, I really need to talk to you?”

The words had you sitting up in an instant,it wasn’t usual for him to ever want to just talk with you anymore, let alone admit he was thinking about you in the middle of night without the strings of sexual desire tied to the end. You tried not to over think it, trying to tell your heart not to get too excited, and getting dressed with your warm winter jacket The only real reason you ran straight to him was to avoid sitting still with your own mind to interpret what any of this could mean for the two of you. 

Your high top shoes came to a halt as you were about to turn the corner and find him waiting for you outside the dorms. Your fists clenched and with a quick exhale to clear out your chest, you confidently faced him for the first time in days. Jimin grew a lighter, more tame smile, as he saw you approaching him. He sat down on the bench upfront, letting the dim lighting of the street light illuminate your favorite blond hair of his. It was painful to know he still looked just as good as he did that same morning, a whole new beauty of him could be found this late at night, and a dangerous one at that. 

“I’m here..” You sighed, looking down at him instead of sitting with him. 

“I’m glad. I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Jimin patted the seat next to him, offering you a drink from the plastic bag next to his side. You assumed it was from one of the convenience stores around the block and from the smell you could tell it wasn’t soda. Whatever he was about to tell you, it was something he wasn’t able to sober. 

“Just tell me what it is already…Please. I’m tired, Jimin.”

Slowly his hand lifted itself from his pocket, crawling over towards yours. Your hand was met with the comforting feeling of his, the feeling you never wanted to let go of before. His radiant brown eyes flickered up at you, giving you a distant look. 

“I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. You’re not dumb, it’s me. I-..I used you, Y/N. I realized that when I heard you crying for the first time on those stairs alone. Those gazes you were giving me all this time were because you actually loved me and I  filled your head up with all these promises I couldn’t keep but you still trusted me. Why? “

Your eyes widened in embarrassment, growing completely silent. Your head moved away from him, trying to hide the growing blush of humiliation written all over your face. If you were to break it off, this wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to hear the words he had to say but your body stayed seated on the cold wooden bench. 

“Because, it’s just like you said. I love you.” 

You could see the shock in his eyes when you finally lifted your head up to reveal the hot tears already streaming down your face. The disgusting look of pity smeared his gorgeous face. 

“Y/N….I want to make you happy. I really do but I was being an asshole back then. It may seem like I couldn’t care less about you but I seriously care about you so much, I just fucked everything up. I shouldn’t have suggested us doing anything more than being friends. I can’t say I love you either.” 

You shook your head, holding back the loud sobbing you were easily able to do. With only a whim, you gave him a light smile. 

“Thanks to that at least I got to be close to you. Even if you don’t like me that way, I still got to know what the feeling was like to have you kiss me or play with my hair when you got bored. I got to see sides of you I wouldn’t have other wise and even if you used me to relieve stress for just a second, I’m glad I could make you feel better.”

Jimin let go of your hand, cowering a bit further from you. His expression changed from pity to something different but indescribable.

“Please don’t say things like that.”

Mustering up the strength you stood up, still looking down at him lovingly. 

“You know, Yoongi tried to tell me all of this months ago but I kept going. It’s not your fault, I did this to myself. Thank you for at least telling me you don’t share the same feelings.”

Turning on your heel you felt the slap of Jimin’s hand on your wrist. He also stood up from the seat, looking at you more angrily. 

“Stop it! Stop deciding things for me! It’s true I can’t say i’m in love with you but you’re not the only one who notices everything! I still have the same memories of you laying by my side, comforting me even when I didn’t deserve you, or how peacefully you look when you’re sound asleep, grasping at my hand even after you’re no longer awake. That beautiful smile you gave me every time I gave you a compliment or even when I just gave you a smile. Those aren’t things I just toss aside. Dating someone like me wouldn’t do you any good, I don’t know anything about it. Why do you think I had to sleep around as much as I did? I care about you more than the other members do but I don’t know if that means I love you even if I want to!”

“Then what about the girl from a few days ago? Do you love her?” 

“No! I was only showing off because you said you had a date….I thought you had suddenly gotten over me.”

You mind would have been just as confused if you tried to figure all of this out on your own than talking to him yourself. It was hard not to think it wasn’t due to the cans of beer sitting next to his side before you had even showed up. 

“Why would you even care?”

“Because you’re irreplaceable.” Jimin let out. 

“You didn’t even message me when I wasn’t the one to type something first. How much could you have possible cared? I didn’t see it before but I promise you I can see it now. I’m not mad because you don’t love me, I’m mad because you keep saying shit like that! Things like I can still have hope that maybe you’d eventually fall for me.”

He took a glance around the area before cupping your face into his hands, leaning his forehead on yours. He could feel your arms shaking from your crying when he caressed them instead of your face. 

“I didn’t want you to get close to me.I guess a part of me knew how you felt but the other half pretended I didn’t. I’d only disappoint you. This is better for the both of us, Y/N.” 

“Yeah and who else do I have?” You sniffled.

“What about Yoongi-hyung? You two are really close…He takes way better care of you and he was the first person you called when you ran out of the building that day. Plus you’ve known him longer than any of us.” Jimin suggested, being completely serious.

“No, it’s not like that with the two of us. It’s more like a brother and sister thing, it’d be weird….but, this is it, isn’t it? No more casual hang outs with the rest of the boys, no more holding my hand when they weren’t looking, and no more sneaking out at night with each other. I don’t get to listen to you talk about your day or ask me about mine. You wanted this to be goodbye, didn’t you? That’s why you called me out here?”

Jimin only nodded before kissing your forehead more gently than he had before.

“I can’t say it enough but I’m sorry. We’ll still see each other around the company and maybe the dorms but overall I think we should stay away from each other. And maybe it’s not forever, who knows. I just think that’s what’s best for right now.”

There was no use fighting anymore, any further and you would have gone past the point of pathetic, begging on your knees for another chance. You were soon going to miss someone who was never yours in the first place but it would hurt just as bad as if you were. Doing the mature thing you decided it was best to respect his feelings, knowing it took alot for him to finally get out and say it considering he waited half a week to bring it up. He was caring in his own way but he was right, it wasn’t enough anymore. Irreplaceable was a funny word from someone who was talking about no longer speaking but it was a word that suited him as well. You still didn’t feel as though your first love was wasted on him because you probably wouldn’t end up forgetting the cold winter night he confessed everything to you or the expressions he showed when he did. It wouldn’t change that he’d probably never forget it either. 

‘No, I understand. I think so too.”

House Calls: a Sick!Fic

Timeline: post-season 10, slight spoilers for Cold Cases audiobook

Summary: Our favorite puppy of an FBI agent isn’t feeling very well. Luckily, his doctor makes house calls.

Warning: This is a disgustingly sweet embarrassing piece of cuddlefluff. You’d be better off swimming in a vat of cotton candy, honestly


She is going to kill them. She is going to drag them out of their underground Arlington National Cemetery bunker and make them wish they had stayed dead.

Scully doesn’t know how or when they managed to record that and she isn’t sure she wants to know. What she does know is that those geeky basement dwellers will rue the day they ever decided it was a good idea to set foot in that fucking red office supply store named for a pointy paper fastener.

Oh yes, Frohike, Byers, and Langly thought their most recent birthday gift to Mulder was just so hilarious: a bright red paperweight of a button, which instead of declaring something to be “easy” now shouted her name in Mulder’s voice. That couldn’t possibly be annoying at all. The four of them giggled like schoolgirls for hours, pressing that damn thing over and over again. He’s lucky it hasn’t “accidentally” fallen off his desk and been “accidentally” crushed by a hammer.

Scully moans in frustration as her name echoes down the hallway again. For someone who had suffered countless head wounds, been buried alive in psychotropic mushroom goo, abducted by aliens, and literally come back from the dead, he was the biggest baby when it came to having a cold. All she wanted was just five blissful minutes to herself. Was that really so much to ask?

“I’m coming!”

Any annoyance she has dissipates when she opens the door and finds Mulder propped up on his pillows in his tattered grey “I was probed in Roswell” t-shirt, looking utterly pathetic with his red nose and glassy eyes ringed with exhaustion. His forlorn puppy dog expression somehow made him even more adorable. She approaches the bed and feels his forehead; he closes his eyes and arches into her cool hand, swallowing painfully.

“What is it, Mulder?”

Mulder scrawls something on a whiteboard and thrusts it towards her.


Scully smiles down at him, her brow cocked in amused concern.

“Mulder, would you like some juice?”

He sticks his bottom lip out and nods pathetically in response, hair flopping over his forehead. She reaches out to brush the unruly lock back.

“I’ll be right back.”

Scully returns with a glass of orange juice in one hand and the other tucked behind her back. With an exaggerated flourish, she produces a bright green crazy straw shaped like an alien head.  His eyes light up and he grins up at her dazedly, the hoarse laugh that bubbles up quickly replaced with a sore throat wince.

You’re too good to me

She extends the glass and gently guides the straw past his lips. He drains half the glass before leaning back against the pillows.

“Thanks,” he rasps weakly with a small tilt of his lips. He really wants to make a joke about sucking aliens, but can’t manage to form his feverish thoughts into anything coherent.

“Hey now, none of that,” the doctor in her admonishes, laying a finger to his lips and using her other hand to ease him gently down to the bed. “You need sleep.” Scully plants a soft kiss to his forehead with a brush of her thumb against his cheek. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

She’s closed the bedroom door quietly behind her and is halfway down the hall to the living room when it sounds again.


A huffing laugh bursts from her lips with a fond shake of her head as she turns back towards the bedroom. She opens the door to find a sniffling Mulder propped up on an elbow with an expression belonging in a late night ASPCA commercial. She can almost hear the plaintive warbling of Sarah McLachlan.

Out of tissues

He looks at her with a helpless expectant expression, sniffing again for good measure.

“Really, Mulder?”

Sniff sniff.

She returns shortly with a fresh box from the bathroom closet. He sniffs gratefully. Scully holds the tissue to his nose while he blows, her long buried maternal instincts surfacing.

“All better?”

Mulder nods and burrows back under his covers with a shiver. Another hair floof, forehead kiss, and three steps towards the door later…


“What now, Mulder?” she sighs, turning around and reapproaching the bed, faint cracks appearing in her patient veneer. “What else could you possibly need?”

I’m lonely

“Mulder…” Scully murmurs in a voice of sympathetic pity. “You really need to get some rest.”

He frantically grabs at her hand as she turns towards the door again, swiping over the board with his arm to erase and write another message.

Please don’t leave me

The unwritten “again” hangs heavy in the air between them. He looks up at her with pleading fever-glazed eyes, begging her not to go. He knows she’s here. He knows she’s not going anywhere. He knows this. But there’s a tiny piece of him – buried deep under repeated apologies and kisses and late-night whispers making up for lost time – that is still afraid that when she walks out the door, she won’t come back.

Her expression softens into furrowed brows and pained eyes. How could she leave him when he needs her? “Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?”

Nod nod sniff.

Scully lifts the corner of the comforter and eases into the bed next to him, shifting him to lean against her, with his head propped on her chest. She nuzzles her cheek into the soft crown of his head and tightens her arms around him, her hand rubbing circles on his back. His contented sigh tells her that she’s right where she needs to be. The mattress shifts as Mulder turns slightly to thrust the whiteboard at her again.  

Sing for me

“I don’t sing, Mulder. You know this.”

Yes you do – the one about the frog

Cue the Dana Scully Eye Roll TM. It’s impossible to deny him when he’s all sick and sad and pathetic. He knows this. Sniffly bastard.  

“Jeremiah was a bullfrog, was a good friend of mine…”

Mulder smiles sleepily into her chest, basking in the familiar comfort of her voice, his hand swiping over his whiteboard drunkenly as he struggles to keep his eyes open. Scully strokes the damp hair from his forehead again, repeatedly running her fingers over his scalp until his breathing slows and his eyes close, just like she did all those years ago in a dark Floridian forest.  

I love you

Goosebumps | Haechan drabble

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 766

Aesthetics: Piled up trashcans, dizzy headaches, someone clanking quietly in the kitchen, hot tea, curling in a blanket, fingers running through your hair

After coughing so hard you were sure your lungs were trying to flee your body, you reached for a tissue, sniffling pathetically. Yesterday evening you had felt something coming on, and indeed, a nasty cold now wracked your body. It was so bad you had called off work and warned your boyfriend not to come visit you, for fear he would catch whatever was plaguing you.

And, like always, he didn’t listen to you.

You shivered under the mountain of blankets piled over your frame, trying to get warm. The ad on the tv gave you time to wiggle to get more comfortable.

Miserable, you groaned, cursing whoever had gotten you sick.

The sound of your front door opening made you freeze in panic. Your parents and significant other were at work, so who could it possibly be?

‘A serial killer. Oh my gosh, I don’t want to go like this!! A snotty, feverish mess!! I thought the door was locked omg omg omg!!!!’ Panicked, you tightened your grip on your blankets, yanking them over your head.

“Don’t kill me or I’ll haunt you forever and give you my cold!” You shrieked as best you could with a sore throat.

The footsteps stopped in the entrance of your living room. “Jeesh Y/n, I didn’t know you thought Taeyong’s soup was that bad.” A familiar voice said flatly.

You shot up, then immediately regretted it as your head spun. “D-Donghyuck?” You sputtered.

“The one and only. Damn, you’re a mess.” He dropped the plastic bag full of goodies on the wreck of a coffee table, giving you a once over before shaking his head with a snort.

“Is that any way to treat your sick girlfriend?” You grumbled, before falling into a coughing fit that left you dizzy.

Worry flashed in his eyes. “Shut up, we both know you’d say the same to me.” He bent down, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“Speak for yourself.” You avoided his eyes, fearing that your heart would thump out of your chest.

“Aish,” Donghyuck pulled away. “You’re on fire. How in the world did you get this sick?”

“Dunno.” You said, shivering.

Keep reading

Dream a Little Dream of Me (Stiles x Reader Oneshot)

Stiles is struggling to sleep and y/n tries to help him nod off. But something feels a little off.

Characters/Pairings: Stiles x Reader

Warnings: Foreplay/close to smut, choking.

Word Count: 1181

Notes: My first Teen Wolf fic! This is set during season 3, from Stiles’s POV, there’s probably something like this already out there but I’m new to TW fiction so be nice. I’ve just finished Season 5A, so close to catching up – I’ll be open to requests soon!


Originally posted by stallingdemons

I let out a heavy sigh, I’d been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. My eyes wandered to the right of me, where y/n lied. She was curled up in a ball under the blanket, sleeping softly. I decided to attempt sleep again, rolling on to my side and draping my arm around y/n. She gasped at my touch, quickly rolling over to face me.

‘I’m sorry y/n.’ I whispered, her face scrunched up at me.

‘Can’t sleep?’ She muttered, rubbing her y/e/c eyes.

‘Mhmm.’ I stroked up and down her arm. She smiled at me delicately, bringing her hand to my face.

‘Have you tried all the usuals? Hot cocoa? Sleeping pills?’ I nodded automatically, although I struggled to remember doing those things. The memories were vague and misty.

‘I know something that usually works.’ She raised an eyebrow at me, I could see the mischievous glint in her eye. She leaned in and planted her lips on mine. I immediately kissed back, roaming my hand through her hair. She nibbled at my lip, knowing how much that tempted me. I rolled over on top, barely taking a moment for a breath. Her hands started to wander from my hair down my neck. Y/n pulled at my shirt, I helped get it over my head. We were being clichéd teenagers and I couldn’t have cared less, normality wasn’t something that we had a lot of around here.

Keep reading

Desire part 2

Kylo paced beside Hux’s bed in the medbay, unable to stay still. Hux had passed out shortly after being brought onto the Finalizer, causing Kylo to become alarmed as he carried the Omega to the Medbay with speed. The medics had been waiting for them upon arrival, but Kylo had refused to leave the room as they treated Hux. He knew he was being stubborn, was only making the staff uneasy, but his Alpha nature would not let him leave Hux’s side. It was absurd, unbecoming of himself as a Knight of Ren, yet his instincts were screaming at him to protect Hux; to keep him safe.

When an Alpha medic attempted to remove Hux’s jumpsuit Kylo had lost his control, using the force to freeze the Alpha in place before sending the Medic flying back against the wall. It took several nurses to calm Kylo and assure him they were only treating the General, that no one was going to claim him.

“Lord Ren, please.” The small beta nurse pleaded, knowing there was no way she could stop the Alpha if he didn’t listen. “Sit down. No one will harm him…sir your-was the rescue disorientating? Were you afraid for the General safety?”

Kylo’s eyes darted away from the medic he had thrown and down to her, confused by the random turn of questions.

“What? Why?” He demanded, watching her flinch at his raised voice.

“Sir we think…we think Hux is in Heat, triggered by the drugs. Y-you are experiencing a rut. The adrenaline from the rescue is making you hyper sensitive to anything involving the Omega.” She said nervously, backing away slightly at Kylo’s hardened gaze. “Please sir, sit down, no one will harm him or claim him. We are only treating him I swear.”

Kylo growled, clenching and unclenching his fists. The nurse was right, he could feel it. His body and mind were honed in on Hux; hyper aware of the Omega’s scent and itching to wrap himself protectively around the General.

Despite his instincts, Kylo reluctantly nodded and sat down in the chair near the General’s bed. He needed to stay level headed, could not let his baser instincts control him. Hux was safe, no one was going to harm him or claim him. No Alpha would dare compete with Kylo; He was without a doubt the strongest on the Finalizer. Still, with Hux being so vulnerable he didn’t want to risk leaving the room. His rut would not allow him to anyway; the pull of Hux’s pheromones were too strong to ignore.

Instead he watched the medics take Hux’s vitals and give him injections, all the while Kylo fidgeted in his seat unable to stay still.

At the offer of a sedative to calm him he refused, snarling in response to the very idea.

“The General is stable, and in good condition.” The Alpha medic said after they finished their examination. The man refused to make eye contact with Kylo, to afraid of being thrown again and showing submissiveness as a protection. “He will wake up shortly, most likely be disorientated and confused. His heat won’t last the standard three days of a natural estrus; a few hours at most. We gave him some medicine to take the edge off his symptoms, but that is the most we can do.”

Kylo stood suddenly, crowding the other Alpha and causing the man to panic; Kylo could smell the fear. “Leave us. I will see to the General from here. If you are needed I will comm you.”

“Lord R-ren we have-”

“LEAVE.” Kylo barked, causing the Medic to yelp in surprise and scramble hastily away; the beta nurses following soon after.

The commotion caused Hux to stir, a pained moan escaping the Omega’s mouth. Kylo immediately went to his side, taking off his gloves and pressing a cool hand to Hux’s feverish forehead. His thoughts were still unorganized, more likely due to the heat than the drugs at this point.

“You’re on the Finalizer. In the medbay.” Kylo stated when Hux awoke; the Omega’s eyes darting around the room nervously. Hux seemed to visibly relax at that, sighing in relief.

“Why am i still wearing this kriffing jumpsuit?” Hux sneered, sitting up on his elbows. His face was flush red, and sweat was beading on his forehead. Kylo wanted nothing more than to press his lips to the heated skin of the Omega’s neck.

“I,” Kylo stammered, turning his gaze from Hux’s scrutinizing gaze to the floor. “-I wouldn’t let them take it off you.”

“Why the hell would you leave me in-”

“You’re in heat. I didn’t want them touching you.” Kylo hissed, the childishness of his actions making his face burn. Admitting it out loud only made him angry, the embarrassment only made worse by Hux’s incredulous stare.

After an uncomfortable pause Hux ran a hand threw his ginger hair, sighing before placing a hand over Kylo’s on the bed. The action made Kylo startle, the touch of skin on skin sending a shiver down his spine. Hux’s gaze had softened, and Kylo was unprepared for it.

“Thank you, for…coming for me. You could have left me on that base. You didn’t, and I’m grateful.” Hux pulled his hand away, and Kylo immediately missed the contact. Hux’s scent was making him heat drunk, and he wanted more of the Omega’s touch, wanted to curl up on the bed next to him. Instead he stood there, unsure now of where he fit in the picture. He wanted more, more than Hux would give him.

Hux laid back down on the pillows, his eyes fluttering shut as he covered his face with his arm. “I haven’t had a heat in years. I’ve forgotten how they feel. How much they hurt.”

Kylo couldn’t help but laugh, and Hux even smiled in response. It was beautiful, the first time Kylo had ever seen a true smile on the General’s face.

“You’re not leaving the room, are you?” Hux asked, amusement in his tone despite his discomfort from his heat.


“I don’t know why I asked.” Hux rolled on his side, his hand patting the empty space he created. Kylo hesitated, swaying where he stood, uneasy. “I shouldn’t. It would be unbecoming of us as co-commanders.” He said, despite his own longing and desire to lay in the bed. What was Hux’s angle? Why now would he seek comfort from him? Was this what heat did to Omegas, to the General?

“Ren,” Hux said, arching his back slightly. The sight made Kylo bite his lip, try to will his erection away. He had been hard since he found Hux, the Omega’s scent combined with his rut making his body obsess over breeding.

“I…just lay with me. You’re an Alpha, the scent will help ease my symptoms and yours as well. You’re obviously in rut. Look at you, I can smell the arousal. Its choking the air. Just…lay here.” Hux breathed, looking uncomfortable in his own skin. Kylo didn’t have anything to say to oppose the idea. Hux was right. They needed this, needed the contact. It was a convenience, nothing more. Hux did not want Kylo, only his presence while he suffered through his false heat. It was more than Kylo was ever going to get, so he latched onto the idea greedily.

“Very well.” He stripped out of his outer robes, taking his boots of as well. He felt Hux’s gaze on him as he did so, making his obvious bulge in his pants that much more embarrassing. Hux said nothing, however, and when Kylo climbed into the bed, Hux gave a contented sigh. The Omega’s shoulder brushed against his, and Kylo allowed himself to enjoy the moment, no matter how fleeting.

So Many Stars (Ch. 1)

Pairing: Phan
Genre: Chaptered fic, AU
Word count: 3,320 words
Description: After graduating with his law degree, Dan decides to move to Japan to teach English for a year.

A/N: so i’ve been wanting to write a phan au where they are english teachers in japan for a long time. this is going to be a pretty long, chaptered fic. please read if you’re interested!


It was 36 degrees outside — literally human body temperature — and the air was so thick with humidity Dan was pretty sure he could take a bite out of it. Yet here he was, sat in a full suit and tie in a room where the only relief from the sweltering heat came from the half-assed breeze that occasionally drifted through the open windows. His shirt was plastered to his back with sweat, and he was pretty sure it was going to have to be surgically removed later on. The vinyl couch he sat on felt like it was made of lava. 

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Lips catch on teeth in a hurried kiss. Hungry, hungry eyes stare into his. Blunt nails bury themselves into his hips; a jean-clad leg pressing in between. A toned chest is pulled flush against his, molding him to the wall. His hands latch onto black leather and clutch so hand the knuckles turn white.


“Shh.” A finger slides over his lips. “Don’t say it. Tonight, we are nameless.”

He wants to argue, he wants to scream that it wouldn’t matter; by tomorrow, he would be nameless once again.

A feverish kiss stills his thoughts, soft lips stealing away what little control he had. They pull apart briefly and Icarus looks into Apollo’s eyes. Reality suddenly bites at his heart.

A golden boy with the brilliance of the sun, gold-spun hair, and celestial blue eyes. How could a boy who dreams of flyings and wakes up with the sun in his mouth ever compare?

“You don’t want this.” Why does the words sound like death’s doors closing? He feels like falling.

“I-I do.” His voice quivers more than he would like, stutters as much as his traitorous heart does.

“Then, why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

“I-” The words are stuck in his throat, his tongue heavy with fear. He doesn’t want to say it, lest it becomes laden with anger and desperation. He doesn’t want to give in to the dangerous idea that Apollo meant something to him.

He runs a hand through his silky hair and Icarus’ fingers twitch with urges to card through them. “I’m not going to hurt you. So, please, tell me what’s wrong.” Apollo stares at Icarus with those intense blue eyes and he caves.

“I.. you said that tonight we would be nameless,” he murmurs. Icarus winces at how weak and disappointed his voice sounds, but continues anyways. He’s already off the deep end. It’s too late to take back his words. “But, I’m going to be nameless tomorrow and the next day and forever, aren’t I?”

Apollo freezes and Icarus looks away. He contemplates leaving when he realizes that he’s in his own house, his own room, and curses. Inviting Apollo had been a decision proved fatal.

“No.” The word is soft and lingers long in the air after Apollo’s voice dies away. Icarus’ head turns sharply to look at him, hope blossoming in his chest. He hates it; the fact that the hope would end up being crushed, that he would be disappointed again.

“You’re not nameless. You will never be nameless, Icarus,” Apollo says. His hand skirts through his hair once again and Icarus recognizes it as a nervous habit. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just thought.. I thought that if we didn’t say our names.. if you didn’t say my name, then I wouldn’t fall for you more. Then, it would hurt less when we act like strangers tomorrow.”

Icarus could feel his heart skip a beat as he looks at Apollo. His lips part in an attempt to speak, but no sound comes out.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just.. I’ll just leave. This was supposed to be your night and I ruined it. I’m sorry.” Apollo stands up and turns to the door. Panic wells up in Icarus’ chest and he grabs Apollo’s wrist.


Apollo freezes at the touch, but remains facing the door. Icarus knows that he can easily break out of his weak grasp, but the golden boy is rooted in his tracks.

“P-please stay,” Icarus practically begs. He licks his dry lips, swallows the lump in his throat, and finds the courage to say, “I want you here.”

“You do?” The hesitance and the overwhelming hope in Apollo’s voice breaks his heart.

“I do,” he answers resolutely. He has never been more sure of anything. “I.. I’ve fallen for you, too.”

Apollo abruptly turns around and sits on the edge of his bed, hovering above Icarus. His form shakes, as does his voice. “You.. you have?”

Heat crosses his cheeks and Icarus knows that he’s blushing heavily. He nods, not trusting his voice to find the right words.

“Oh, thank god.” Apollo exhales heavily, his lips lift in a relieved smile. He becomes shy in the next instance, so different from the confident boy Icarus knows. “Can I hug you?”

“Yes, please.” The earnest reply brings forth Apollo’s sweet laughter and Icarus finds that it’s worth the embarrassment. He is pulled into Apollo’s embrace, strong arms wrapped around him, and his eyes flutter close.

Hesitantly, Icarus’ arms reach around to Apollo’s back and he rests his hands on the soft leather. It only takes a moment for them to tighten and suddenly, Icarus never wants to let go. His only reassurance is that Apollo feels the same way; if his snug embrace is any indication.

“This has to be a dream,” Icarus says, his voice barely above a whisper. He has the sun in his arms and his body feels light as if wings were attached to his back. He’s falling but he’s not alone. It has to be a dream. Reality isn’t so kind.

Apollo breaks apart from Icarus’ hold, arms still held possessively around his waist. He presses his forehead against Icarus’ and stares into his eyes. “It’s not a dream, Icarus. This is real. I’m real. And, I’m not going to disappear once you wake up.”

Icarus chokes back a sob as he closes his eyes. His mind still can’t wrap around the idea that Apollo is here, in his bed and in his arms. His heart, the wretched thing, has already accept it as truth. It would only take a bit longer before his mind believes it as well.

He opens his eyes and gasps softly at the pure unadulterated love in Apollo’s eyes. Aphrodite must have blessed him tonight because the love is so tangible he could taste it.

Apollo’s eyes are so blue that Icarus swears he stole the color from the sky. They’re clear and honest. Icarus couldn’t find the heart in him to question Apollo’s claims. He’s telling the truth; his soul practically resonates with it.

Icarus buries his head against Apollo’s chest, breathing in his scent. He becomes heady with the smell of sunlight and leather, soft sighs escaping his lips.

Apollo only pulls him closer, whispering sweet, sweet declarations of love in his ear. Icarus is crimson to the tips of his ears and Apollo merely chuckles. “You’re adorable.”

He’s not one to take compliments well and stumbles through his thanks. Apollo just smiles and presses soft kisses into his hair. “Happy birthday, Icarus.”


They spend the night in each other’s arms, kissing sweetly and spilling secrets they’ve been dying to tell. The heated desire from before thins out and a deeper intimacy brings them closer than hurried carnal pleasure ever could. They fall asleep tangled up together and doesn’t let go even in Morpheus’ realm.

 When Icarus wakes up, he finds his head resting on a toned chest, strong arms wrapped around his body in a secure embrace. He flushes, but snuggles closer to Apollo and closes his eyes. Falling isn’t so bad after all.

- Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #57
Dead Bodies (1/?)

( Next )

Summary: All her life, forensic pathologist Dr. Angela Ziegler has dabbled much with the dead. After a bout of self-realization, she decides it was time she learned how to deal with the living.

And maybe ask her colleague out for a date somehow.

Genre: AU, Romance. Dark humor. Oh, and ghosts and psychics (anyone a fan of pushing daisies?)

Characters/Pairings: Angela, Lucio, Fareeha (mentioned), Pharmercy

Rating: T, mentions of body gore and third party violence, dark humor.

Links: AO3 , FF.Net

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All glittering gold

Based on “Imagine cuddling with Thorin the night before the BotFA and making him promise that he will return to you (which he does)” from ImaginexHobbit

Note: I had to tinker with the timeline a bit to make this imagine work, but I really liked the idea, so I figured accuracy could take a little holiday.

A sequel to Pierced by Cupid


Thorin had returned to sit, brooding, on the throne while you lingered on the narrow walkway below the dais watching Balin, Dwalin, and Bilbo leave. When the trio had disappeared through the vast, arched doorway, you turned to him where he slumped, his eyes restless and constantly moving with his feverish thoughts.

“You’re not being reasonable, Thorin. How long will you test their loyalty?”

He glanced irritably at you before looking away over the cavernous chamber. “They owe me their loyalty.”

“And you owe them your trust, your patience,” you countered. “Have they not proved themselves time and time again, all of them?”

“You forget your place,” he warned, turning a dangerous gaze on you.

You opened your mouth to speak and closed it again, summoning all of your self-restraint to smother your simmering frustration, bite back the angry words that wanted to claw their way from your throat. “You are not the man you were,” you said finally, carefully. “You regard the ones who love you most with doubt and suspicion…you are consumed with the search for this accursed stone, and I fear for you, Thorin. I pity you.”

“You pity me?” He repeated your words incredulously, in a voice thick with contempt. “I am King under the Mountain. I have no need for the pity of a woodworker’s daughter.”

Anger flared in you again, threatened to burn what love remained between the two of you, frail and brittle as a fallen leaf, to ashes. “There was a time when you spoke of making a woodworker’s daughter your Queen,” you retorted, caring no more for self-restraint. “Or have you forgotten everything you said when you had me bare beneath you in Laketown?”

Even in his madness, Thorin looked stung, and still the words poured from your lips. “Was I only there to warm your bed?” you needled him. “Give you courage to face the dragon with my pretty words of love and faith?”

“Enough!” Thorin bellowed, rising to his feet with an almost convulsive movement, his glittering armor and the mad gleam in his eye making him larger, frightening. “You forget. Your. Place.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth, and just as suddenly as it had flooded you, your fury drained away, leaving behind only a cold, empty regret that filled your eyes with tears.

“I have no place here,” you whispered, searching for a glimpse of the man you loved in the face of the capricious, grasping tyrant who stood before you and finding no such comfort. With a trembling exhale, you turned to begin the long walk to the doorway, leaving him glowering on the dais.

“Where are you going? I have not given you leave,” Thorin said indignantly, behind you.

Your footsteps were loud in the oppressive stillness.

“I am the King!” Petulance crept into his voice. “I am the King, and you will stay until I have finished speaking to you!”

Only the silence answered him, and your retreating form grew smaller.

“Go, then,” Thorin growled, his call echoing on the stone walls. “Go! But know this: if you walk through that door, do not presume to show me your face again.”

With that, you halted, standing frozen beneath the great stone arch before looking back over your shoulder to meet his demanding stare, far away across the chamber. His lips began to curl into a victorious smirk that quickly faded when, without a word, you turned and left the throne room.

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HighSpecs Week: Illness

Prompt: Illness / Shopping


Aranea fidgeted with the hemline of her top as she waited. Prompto and Gladio were nearly ready to leave as they grabbed the last of their supplies. Prompto handed her a bag with the medicine and a few other useful items he had collected over the months—a towel to dampen for an overheated forehead, vapor rub, muscle relaxant.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Prompto asked, a tone of seriousness in his voice that Aranea wasn’t used to. Apparently he took his caretaking duties very seriously.

“Yeah, you go with Gladio. I know Cor could really use your help on this mission,” Aranea replied.

“Thanks. We owe you one.” Prompto motioned to Gladio, who was checking on Ignis one last time in his bed. “Let’s go, big guy!”

“Coming!” Gladio smiled at Aranea as he passed by her. “Thanks again for looking after him.”

“Ain’t no thing,” Aranea smiled back.

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The Aquitaine Princess

Tribute and follow-up ficlet to sparklight’s chapter forty in her marvelous “In Which Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Escape” series. (Fiercely-protective Mommy Vader wasn’t something I understood I desperately needed until I encountered it! And I love genderbent “Luca” as well. ^_^)

If you’re wondering about the title, it’s a reference to a beautiful French poem known as El Deschidado, which references an “Aquitaine prince with a destroyed tower.” Technically Luca would be a princess (though I’m not certain how comfortable she’d be with the title), hence the change.

Trigger warning for a panic attack. I don’t feel Luca is any less badass than Luke, but you’ve got to keep in mind that the poor kid’s in a seriously traumatizing situation. (Let’s hope there are some Imperial therapists available in the ranks.)

L & V are being a bit more emotional than normal, mainly because I think genderbent Luke and Vader might be a little more in-tune with their emotions (albeit Vader a smidgen more so.)

Thanks again to the very-excellent sparklight, whom is an angel, saint, and a bag of chips!

I am the Dark One, – the Widower, – the Unconsoled
The Aquitaine Prince whose Tower is destroyed:
My only star is dead,- and my constellated lute
Bears the black Sun of Melancholia.

In the night of the Tomb, You who comforted me,
Give me back Mount Posillipo and the Italian sea,
The flower that my afflicted heart liked so much
And the treillised vineyard where the grapevine unites with the rose.

—Excerpt from El Deschidado


“… what do you want?” Luca asked, quiet and shamefully soft, even as her back was almost painfully stiff. The hand around her wrist tightened, making the metal of the cuff dig in a little, and the other gloved hand finally rose up, not quite touching her cheek.

Foreboding gathered in her gut as she watched those starkly yellow eyes wash out into bright blue again, watched the harsh twist to Vader’s mouth soften a shade.

“My daughter.”


Luca had flinched at that. Partially because her stomach had rolled sickeningly and she had to take deep, shuddering breaths to keep the remaining contents of her stomach from heaving their way up. She braced a glistening palm against the wall, nearly slipping.

The hand poised over her face slowly fell. She wondered wordlessly why Vader bothered if she couldn’t actually bring herself to touch her affectionately, but the hand had hesitantly reached for Luca, as if of its own accord.

Dimly, Luca felt the writhing flare—something like a supernova—of Vader’s wintry force presence hardening, crackling as it rapidly frosted over into a pernicious arctic armor. And suddenly it seemed to be much farther away, as if Luca were looking at it through the wrong end of binoculars, though Vader’s hand still clutched her wrist so tightly she was rapidly losing feeling in it.

Luca immediately felt a hot rush of shame as she gazed up at over-bright eyes, starkly-blue embers hovering in the dark, unblinkingly watching her. Did Vader sense her revulsion?

Her next thought stepped on her question mark: Why should she care if she hurt Vader’s feelings? Insanity, it seemed was catching.

Or genetic.

Her free hand drew itself into a shaking fist, nails sinking in her palm. Uncle Owen had lied about her mother, and while she could maybe, albeit begrudgingly, understand why he had, she couldn’t help resenting him even if the feeling came with a maelstrom of guilt.

And when he and Beru had been murdered, the only person whom saved her from being crippled with grief was Ben, whom gave her what she’d wanted her whole life: The knowledge that she was meant to do something special—albeit more so than she ever could’ve guessed—and that her mother had been, too. She bit the inside of her mouth hard, and something metallic and hot flooded her mouth. Vader snapped something she heard, but didn’t understand.

Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi knight, a paradigm of strength and goodness, whom also had her life cut short by Vader. If Luca hadn’t already wanted vengeance for Beru and Owen, now it became a purpose, which had been the only thing sustaining her all this time, her friends aside. A lump rose from her chest and lodged itself in her throat.

Her grief for her mother had vapidly skyrocketed, something she hadn’t even thought possible. But Vader wasn’t anything she anticipated, the demon she’d needed him to be, and she felt pity for him—her—before Luca remembered and her contempt washed it away.

But Vader was her mother, there was no use in not accepting it, the force had no feelings and resonated the affirmation over and over again—

“Young one.”

Vader was urgently saying something else, her hand still bracing Luca’s back. Luca stared blankly at Vader’s rapidly-yellowing eyes.

Ben had to have known Darth Vader was her mother and he’d lied, just like everyone else in the galaxy so desperate to turn her into a pawn, he’d lied when Luca had no one and nothing left, not even a home. Ben wanted her to kill her mother—she shrank back from the thought as if burned, it felt traitorous. But it was true.

Now she could never trust even Ben’s memory ever again. The only person she could understand innately wasn’t lying was her mother. Her mother was alive, the sweetest and most secret hope Luca had ever cherished, but it’d devolved into a nightmare. Vader was a genocidal and vicious maniac. Nothing short of evil.

Luca probably imagined the faint tremor in Vader’s hand still clutching her wrist. Vader, whom for all Luca’s training, for all her giving everything and then some, had stolen her away as easily like a cat would a kitten, regardless of her struggles.

She let out a noise that came out both a strangled laugh and a sob. Vader was the only person whom she could innately understand wasn’t lying, and yet she in all likelihood wanted to use Luca too, her own child. Both Obi-Won and Anakin Skywalker died second deaths in that moment.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Exhale, exhale, exhale—

Her lungs plunged rapidly for air, seeming to end only at the base of her neck, not drawing nearly enough oxygen, regardless of how much she gulped for it.

Her mother’s hands grasped her shoulders as Luca’s vision blurred orange, bled red. Her mind churned in a near-indecipherable blur of terror and hysteria. Her ears rang and someone must’ve been screaming while her throat burned as if it were filling up with blood. She thrashed hopelessly in Vader’s hold, too panicked to care that there was no escape on the ship, that her wrist at this point had become a distant, stinging star of pain as the manacle dug into her skin. Why not, why not, what did it matter she didn’t care nothing mattered anymore—


Vader’s ear-splitting roar sliced through the air and the force; Luca’s eyes widened, freezing as Vader seized her in a too-tight hold, pinning both her arms to her sides. Still Luca struggled, and in Vader’s now-palpable concern, her icy barriers thawed and Vader’s force presence rushed to meet hers. Luca fell limp at that, and if Vader hadn’t been clutching her upright she would’ve certainly tumbled to the floor.

At first it was worse, because Vader’s mercurial force presence loomed like an enormous, blackish-red tidal wave over Luca’s, reaching for her like so many hands. Barriers flew up in Luca’s mind as she frantically retreated deeper into herself, but Vader had been using the force longer than Luca had been alive, and when she pursued the blockades were carelessly knocked aside.

A second later Vader’s mind immobilized her own in a perfectly-implacable grip, rippling with furious dark energy—the first icy jolt upon being badly burned. Luca would’ve cried out if she could’ve, bracing herself for a certain mental assault and the agony certain to go with it.  

Something tentatively—tentatively?—and gently brushed against Luca’s petrified subconscious, the lightest of touches. Stunned, Luca tried to speak, but a cool energy glided over her feverish and distressed thoughts, plunging them into white background noise.

Shaking like mad, her head tilted and fell against Vader’s armor-clad shoulder.

There was a quiet hum coming from the gentle energy flowing into her. It did not quite make her calm, her heart was beating too quickly for that—but it hushed the frantic, blind energy that would’ve sent her battering herself against the ship walls. Luca’s eyes slipped shut. It wasn’t quite unlike the time she’d been slipped inside a bacta tank.  

Another light caress, albeit still uncertainly so, as if Vader were frightened of her, which was absurd to the point of being hilarious. Vader’s force presence was infinitely larger than Luca’s, could’ve crushed hers into dust. But while the idea was baffling, it felt like Vader’s mind was actually cradling hers.

More likely, Luca had somehow sustained head trauma when she’d been electrocuted earlier.

Her breathing was still shuddery, but slower and deeper. Awareness returning, Luca sharply inhaled as she sensed a ring surrounding her, comprised of a black, thrashing maw of blazing toxic energy.

Alarmed, wishing desperately for hers—Vader’s—saber, Luca was shocked by the sheer fury and hatred these flames emitted, something she could dimly understand had been kindled by raw despair.

This force energy jabbed violently out, like so many knives and so much broken glass and while Luca had once scoffed at the word bloodcurdling, she could not do so now. Approaching them would be suicidal. She redoubled her efforts to be free, and Vader had only tightened her mental grip the way she had Luca’s wrist.

While unharmed by the barrier, Luca desperately wanted to shy away; the flames were comprised from malevolence, lashing out and seeking so many targets; possibly the whole galaxy. And yet, oddly enough, not at the girl they surrounded.

But the force defense was more than pure anger; there was a staggering amount of possession and protection radiating off them in waves, something near-feral in intensity and if Vader meant to harm her all along (though Luca didn’t think so) why couldn’t she get it over with?

Young one.

Vader’s voice within the force struck a rich, deep alto. No rasping, no staccato breathing, no intermittent noises from her support. Luca’s eyes flew open, startled.

You are safe.

The voice began hissing the beautiful words over and over again, and the comforting cool energy coming from Vader increased, lulling. Eyes flickering once again, Luca sagged in the gloved hold, fighting to stay conscious.

Her brow furrowed, bewildered as to why this seemed dimly familiar.  


Sometimes when Luca slept she remembered something, or at least upon waking she dimly remembered recalling something, from a very, very long time ago. Before she’d been born.

In a night without stars, she was a nebulous being whom didn’t think in words. Her nascent mind wandered, eventually approaching a much larger presence than her own self.

Innately she understood without understanding how whom it was, and brushed against it curiously. At first it started in blinding-white-shock, iron-defenses shooting up before they crumbled into an intense tenderness, something tremulous. It recognized her.

The awestricken luminosity softly pressed back, with something akin to playfulness. It’d wrapped around her so tenderly and tightly she’d been happy, a profound sense of contentment and rightfulness stealing over her in their burgeoning force connection. The other used it to send peaceful waves passing over her, both of them basking in mutual adoration.

That had been the first time Luca’s consciousness encountered Anakin Skywalker’s, but it hadn’t been the last.


When Luca came back to herself, there were tears streaming silently down her face. Vader held her in a not-quite an embrace, pinning her arms, which was it was confining as much as it was comforting.

At last by unspoken agreement Luca tugged back and Vader slowly released her. The former turned to look determinedly at the wall while rubbing her face.

And she prayed that Vader couldn’t understand that her earlier revulsion was not least because a little girl from trillions and trillions of light-years miles away (but not far enough) had looked up at the dark lord’s words, was scrubbing her dirty face and scrambling to her feet, staring expectantly at the sky.

The silence between them was every part as uncomfortable as the shouting. Luca’s face burned and she couldn’t quite bring herself to look back.

However dire the situation, it was the most profoundly awkward one Luca had ever encountered. Vader seemed to feel the same, considering just how quiet she was, save for the intermittent breathing on the oxygenator.

It was childish, but Luca couldn’t help but reach out with the force towards Vader again, and for her credit was firmly pushed away. The latter’s force presence was rapidly resealing itself in its fortress.  

“Will you be still now?” Vader said at last, sounding as weary as Luca felt. “Can I trust you not to harm yourself?”

Luca just nodded wearily, still wiping her eyes. Thankfully Vader didn’t see, or pretended not to. The two remained chained together, though both were looking in opposite directions of the dilapidated old ship, lost in her own thoughts.

Anakin Skywalker was still alive. Anakin Skywalker was still alive.

She mopped her face once again, took a few deep breaths.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, not quite trusting her voice.

“My ship.” said Vader shortly, after only a moment’s hesitation. The woman’s eyes remained fixated on the windows ahead, reflecting her ruined face stricken of any color, so badly burnt that hair refused to grow. “You’ll be interned in quarters there.”

Luca felt a sharp spike of irritation. Exactly how well had Vader thought this plan through before kidnapping her? “And what, you’re going to lock me up forever, is that it?”

“Don’t tempt me,” snarled Vader, pulling at their chain. “As it stands, the idea of having you handcuffed to my person at all times has its merits.”

Luca went very hot and then very cold at that, because Vader wasn’t someone whose bluff you wanted to call.

“Please,” she tried again, her voice again reaching that painfully soft and embarrassing register. “You can’t just—“

Vader spun on her heel to face her, bluing eyes flashing.

“I can. You are safe with me, not at the beck and call of a ragtag, hypocritical army of anarchists whom will step on your throat the moment you become a liability.”

“The Alliance would never—“

“Yes, because they clearly had ‘Miss Vader’s kid’s,’ best interests at heart,” Vader scoffed, and Luca nearly had the heart knocked out of her.

It would’ve been one thing if Vader kept shouting lies in her ears—annoying, but bearable because she knew otherwise. But the moment Luca discovered her parentage the soldiers had closed in on her—

They wouldn’t have hurt me. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.

“No, you did not. But your innocence would not save you; you were culpable in being born my child.”

It sounded so awful spoken aloud, given shape. Luca had to count to ten to avoid screaming.

“I can’t turn. I can’t be like you. You have to let me go.”

“I have to do no such thing. What I must do is my obligation, which is to keep you from harm.”

Surprise flitted on Luca’s face and her breath caught. Vader pointedly looked away, her force presence growing positively polar, an icy warning to keep a safe distance.

It was a very strange dance. When Luca stepped forward, Vader stepped back, and however much Luca had tried denying her parentage, Darth Vader had only told her the truth over and over again.

Too exhausted to argue anymore, and knowing it was useless in any case, Luca sank to a sitting position again and closed her eyes, so emotionally drained she could scarcely move.

Vader had stolen yet another thing from her. She couldn’t imagine harming her now.


Sometimes when Luca was small, she woke up crying in the middle of the night. Aunt Beru would come in and rub her back, assuring her that her nightmares were only ever just nightmares.

And she did have dreams of black, white-eyed creatures dragging her away and eating her (she couldn’t scream, because they’d eat that too), but sometimes she didn’t dream at all, but only woke up crying from a fissure so horribly hollow and hurting it made her worry she might never stop.


When Luca came to, she awoke wrapped in a black cape, as whomever was carrying her marched across a white bridge. A docking chamber.

Suddenly remembering and returning to hell, she warily turned to gaze up at Vader—whom by now had her unholy black mask restored, eyes shrouded in black. What color were they now, and what was she thinking?

Luca wearily shoved at Vader’s front so as to least have some decency in walking, but she might as well as pushed a wall for all the reaction Vader gave.

Luca pressed a hand against her eyes and was annoyed when it came back wet; she’d been crying from the old place again, the one with bits of her that had never grown up, not really.  She hid her face upon wondering what the imperial soldiers must’ve thought, to have seen the dark lord carrying a girl draped in her cloak and crying as if her heart were on the verge of stopping.

Vader had turned grief into murderous, destructive power. Luca could only let it turn into pain and something tenderer, infinitely more vulnerable. Maybe that was why Vader turned—sheer fear of being torn apart by this raw emotion.  

She sulked, hating the fact that she couldn’t hate Vader, despite the enormity of her actions. The woman had razed entire civilizations and now Luca needed her and that thought was so disturbing so she feebly tried pushing against Vader again, wriggling in her hold and knowing the futility.

“I can’t stay here.”

“You can and must. At my side, you will be a princess.”

Luca’s mind wiped itself blank, faintly hearing Biggs laughing. “I’m not a princess. I have it on good authority I am the opposite of a princess. A princess told me that.”

“You were one before you were born, child. It is your birthright.”

“Please. My friends will come for me in any case.”

This was something Luca did and desperately did not want, for Han, Leia, Threepio, Artoo and Chewie to appear. They’d be in mortal danger, and yet Luca was already missing them.

“I will kill Palpatine for what he did,” said Vader coldly as they stepped into yet another long white hallway. “He told me you had died, and so I’ll burn him from existence. Here is another lesson, child. I’ll destroy anyone whom tries taking you from me.”

Luca’s jaw dropped, and despite the cloak draped around her went cold.

…..oh. Um.

Escaping was going to be an ordeal.

Watch The Flames Climb Higher

A/N: Okay. So when I originally started writing this, it was October and I was sitting at John Wayne airport in Orange County waiting for a flight, hoping I’d be able to finish it in time for @msgenevieve447’s birthday. Clearly, that didn’t go as planned, but Happy SUPER BELATED Birthday anyway, Jen! You are a delightful human being and a gift to this fandom, and I’m thankful everyday for your friendship, wisdom, sass, and beautiful words :) 

P.S. Hey, remember when I “slyly” asked you how you felt about the sex pollen trope? Har-har! ;)) 

P.P.S. Thank you to all the gals that had their eyes on this and held my hand through the process. You know who you are and you’re all appreciated immensely :D

Without further ado, some porn with a side of canon divergence from the beanstalk adventure in Season 2! Apologies if the cut doesn’t work! Xx

Words: 10,655 | Rating: FP for ‘feels’ and ‘porn’ | ao3: [x]

If this is to end in fire, then we shall burn together

Mulan had warned her, told her right before she’d climbed the beanstalk to be careful with the pouch. She never said what exactly was in it, just that it was filled with a magical powder they would have to get the giant to inhale in order to incapacitate him and buy her and Hook enough time to steal the compass. She made some mention of the effects it would have on non-giants if breathed in, though, telling Emma it would have very different consequences for them; and maybe if Emma hadn’t been so distracted by the mission at hand, by the prospect of finding a way to get herself and Mary Margaret back to Storybrooke, she would have been more diligent about heeding the cautionary statement.

‘Different,’ in Emma’s opinion, was a bit of an understatement, however. Because what Mulan really should have said was that it would make her horny as fuck.

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I present to you the kylux whaler au that exactly 0 of you asked for. If I am lucky it will entertain more than myself. 

1826, New Bedford. Johnathan Snoke’s First Fisheries are on the cusp of dominating the whaling trade. Benjamin “Renegade” Solo (”I hate that name. Call me Ren.”) is the relentless force in Snoke’s infinite fleet, leading them to deeper and richer seas. From the helm at port William Huxley (”That’s my father’s name. Call me Hux”) charts new hunting routes and oversees the buying and selling of their wares. When word of returning ships reaches him he is often found upon the widow’s walk, his trained eye on the horizon, and when sails appear on the waves he can be found at the docks, steadfast as the pier itself. His reunion with whaler Ren is fleeting; it is rare to see either of them milling about town for a good week after returning to port. If you are unlucky enough to spot either outside the safety of their warehouse on Main Street be sure to not comment on Hux’s stiff gait or the wobble in Ren’s step, or else be prepared to be on assignment in Antarctica for the next four years hunting penguins. 

Inspiration from a feverish thought process some three weeks ago. I’d apologize for this hot mess but I’ve been frustrated with my art so it was time to get self indulgent, and I’m damn proud of the results. I am something of an old whaling nerd so if you have questions I will answer them with worrying enthusiasm. 

(Also this is 10000% a long haul setup excuse to draw these two set to “Lowlands Away”)

tails & talons - fairies and ink

Part (9) of my NaLu Florist/Tattooartist AU series
check out the amazing art for this fic:
read more: here

“Thankyou so much for helping me with these.”

“Ah, no worries!”

Natsu grinned as he dumped the last of the potting soil bags in the corner and clapped his hands together.

“There’s nothing more to carry, right?”


This could have been the prompt for him to leave, but Natsu seemed to have different plans. Lazily, he walked over to her chair and slumped down, resting his feet on the counter.

“And what do you think you’re doing?" 

"Keeping you company,” he yawned. “Besides, my next appoinment is only at two thirty. Still over half an hour left.”

Lucy tried to sound annoyed, but it sounded fake at best. They both knew she loved his company just as much as he loved hers.

And so she simply continued about her previous occupations, but not without giving him a quick warning to not destroy any vases - again.

As she rearranged the decoration, Lucy could hear him rummage through a drawer behind her back. Seriously, had he ever heard of privacy?

Then it became quiet again, and she continued exchanging pots and wilted flowers, until a regular scratching noise diverted her attention.

“Hey Natsu, what are you doing?”

“Mmmh?” he replied, apparently distracted. “Drawin’.”

That was enough to get her attention.

“Oh really? Can I see?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but simply interrupted her busy hustle and bustle as she made her way to the counter, rounding it to peek over his shoulder.

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