A little babble that kind of sucks but doesn’t suck enough to keep me from posting it I’m a tad sour rn and want sleepy kisses from jjh so take this; a product of my bad mood
Word count: 585 Genre: fluff Feedback is always appreciated, Thank you and goodnight
The trill sound of you crying out in frustration is what rouses Jaehyun from his mid-afternoon nap. Awake, but slow to rise, he only rolls over, grumbling out a, “babe, be quiet.” It’s when you toss your bag to the floor far more aggressively than needed that he decides to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows. You angrily pace around at the food of the bed, rubbing at your temples and willing yourself to settle down. “You’re blowing smoke.” Jaehyun jokingly says, a lazy smile quirked on his lips. You shoot him a glare. At this, his look softens, and he beckons you over. You debate shutting him down, giving him the cold shoulder because you want so desperately to take out your pent up aggravation on something and, well, if Jaehyun happens to be within arm’s reach, then so be it. Through your internal dialogue, he’s looking at you, eyes heavy with sleep and hair askew in every direction and his clothes are all rumpled from his tossing and turning and he’s smiling at you and you can feel the adoration he has for you and you’re melting. You breathe a heavy sigh, laced with irritation and exhaustion and you trudge over to him, allowing his hands to completely envelope yours as he guides you down to lie next to him.
His arms are around you and your face is tucked into his chest and you can feel his heartbeat, smooth and rhythmic and so much calmer than your own. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you allow yourself to snuggle closer to him, wanting to drown in his warmth. “You want to tell me about what’s got you so worked up?” He questions softly, fingers loosely carding through your hair. You breathe in his scent, warm and inviting and your knees go weak because this boy is yours and you thank whoever may be listening that he’s a part of your life. The only response you offer is a minute shake of your head, and he only hums in acknowledgement, choosing instead to begin rocking you the tiniest bit. Jaehyun will wait with you, hold you until your heartbeat has settled and the heat in your cheeks has died down.
“I really love you, Jaehyun.” You mumble into the fabric of his t-shirt. A laugh sounds deep in his chest. “I really love you too, Y/N.” Is his response. You move back to meet his eyes, and you feel like you can lose yourself in endless pools of brown that carry so much love for you; only you. “No, Jaehyun. I really really am in love with you.” You say, and his smile brightens. He’s idly rubbing circles into your side, and you can feel the tension in your shoulders ebbing away with every feather light caress. He smiles, and your heart swells with happiness. The time for anger and frustration and everything that comes along with a bad day would come later; now, you’re only concerned with the feel of Jaehyun’s lips against your own as you kiss him. Slow and sweet, patient and oh so caring, your eyes flutter shut and you let Jaehyun guide you into a state of contentment that you had been aching for all day. “I really really am in love with you, too.” He says as he pulls away. And than you kiss him again. Because you love him, and he loves you. It’s as simple as that.
Nicotine by Panic! At the Disco is literally an umfb&mha Yuuri song. Just one more hit and then we're through/ 'Cause you could never love me back/Cut every tie I have to you/'Cause your love's a fucking drag/But I need it so bad/Your love's a fucking drag/But I need it so bad
Funnily enough, this is the chapter title song for chapter 3 of obs&bh
She has this beautiful speculation theory about the proposal and what the real proposal should entail. It’s right Here
But this sentence stuck out to me
I’ve always thought that the Arrow/Green Arrow persona doesn’t really take over until the hood is up. When it’s down, even if the rest of the suit is on, he’s Oliver, perhaps the truest iteration of Oliver …. This is why the hood is down when he saves Felicity from the Count
I want to go through the seasons and identify the times when Oliver was truly Oliver when interacting with Felicity, the pure personification of his soul, Oliver Queen and the Arrow combined.
PLS REC ME YOUR FAVORITE CANON OR ENCHANTED FOREST AU FICS - totally an anon inspired by the other anon
SO I’m gonna publish this in case anyone can weigh in or needs an ego boost. ;)
I’m so bad with remembering titles, so this whole answer is going to be a hot mess.
Definitely “Beyond the Horizon” as my favorite Enchanted Forest AU, by @alexandralyman. I’m an absolutely SUCKER for pirate!Killian/Hook + Princess!Emma (Captain Duckling?). The beginning of that story hooked me (heh) RIGHT away––where the pirates storm the ship and it’s all very appropriately threatening and swagger-y without making me uncomfortable, you know? Which sounds silly but it’s kind of a fine line, at least for me––making Killian or Captain Hook as scary or frat boy as he likely would be without completely betraying the puppy pirate beneath, or making him gross. And all the budding sexual tension that follows is my AESTHETIC. It’s just written very well. It’s a fully-fleshed world with well-rounded characters and it’s fun and adventurous and hot as hell?
I also loved this AU fic–I think it was called Change in the Wind? I read it on FF.net. It was a season 1 AU where Hook, amidst some deal with Regina, goes to kidnap Emma from Boston with the intention of getting her out of the way so she doesn’t break Regina’s curse. So she’s on the ship for awhile and they have a slow-burn thing. And doing Hook + Season 1 Emma is not something you see very often, and I thought it was done really well. I would totally go re-read that one if I could find it.
There was also one I reread a bunch of times. “The Paths That Moonbeams Make.” Season 2 canon-divergent, where Hook climbs into Emma’s room when he’s wounded and she bandages him, and it’s just an amazingly written journey for them that takes place in such a short time frame, and maybe only 6 chapters. It just rang true, to me. Lots of good moments in that one.
Okay, ONE more. @msgenevieve447 wrote this one-shot about CS and tequila body shots awhile back and I wanted to die and still want to die. I’d hunt down the direct link but everything she writes is pretty awesome so I mean if you get lost in her fic tag, you can thank me later.
“You will never be a Jedi.” General Hux taunts Kylo, grin a jagged slash across his face.
Kylo’s hand clinches around his saber, the other a tight fist. His teeth grit, rage and darkness a boiling pot in his heart and soul, blackening what little Light that Rey had given him in the past two years. General Hux is sprawled on the floor, mouth bloody from a well landed punch and eye slowly darkening, but what Kylo really wishes to do is run the bastard through.
But he doesn’t, Rey’s voice– soft and cajoling, an ever present restraint on his rage even when gone– tells him he isn’t worth it. That Hux dying will fix nothing, least of all what has transpired since he defected. But it may sooth my hurt, he replies, but does not power his saber. If he was to kill Hux, he would use the same blade the bastard used to slit his mother’s throat.
“You have killed too many to ever go back. The fact that the girl even looks at you is a miracle.” He continues, egging on a rising temper. “You will always be apart of the Dark Side. And if not that, then nothing but a murderer.”
“Shut your mouth!” Kylo Ren roars, pulling his saber from his belt. “You know nothing of Rey or what I haven’t and have done these past two years!”
“I know what you did the fourteen years before you defected.” Hux snarls in glee, eyes bright. “And oh, if she knew the extent of your chaos, of everything you’ve not told her, she would run from you, Kylo Ren. Run as far and as fast as the Millennium Falcon will take her from you.
“And in your anguish at her terror, you’d lash out and kill her, the only Light you’ve ever had.” Kylo raises his saber with a scream, the unsteady red glow cutting across the room. The loud clattering of boots on steel is unnoticed as the beam arcs down.
The beam stopped an inch from Hux’s face, burning the skin and singing the fine red hairs. Rey is gripping the doorway, breathing heavy and eyes wide, wet with tears just like Kylo’s. Kylo heaves in ragged breathes, shoulders pulled taut, unable to break his sudden staring contest with the smug general.
“Ben, he isn’t worth it. He wants you to kill him.” Rey comes close, setting a warm, calloused hand on his shoulder. It burns him, somehow putting out the boiling fury in his heart. “He wants you to sink to his level.”
“I am at his level, Rey.” He tells the woman hoarsely, fingers twitching around the saber. “I never left it.”
Rey reaches out, her other hand cool against his burning hand as she switches the saber off. The red disappears with a sputter, and the handle slides past his fingers into Rey’s. She pockets it, fingers brushing his scarred cheek to make him look at her. “No, you did. When you chose to come to me, you rose above his petty words.”
There was turmoil in him, his lust for Hux’s blood clear but his desire to appease her equally strong. He moves to turn his face from her, to hide his shame at his conflicting desires, but her fingers are resolute against his cheek. “No, you will look at me. I won’t let you hide from me.”
“How sweet. You fools are in love.”
“Be. Quiet.” Rey looked at the redhead sharply, teeth bared in a feral display that actually made him scared. He enjoyed seeing anger and fear, but there was something about seeing a Jedi-in-training who was typically so calm and collected, anger not even spiked by Kylo Ren or Snoke, snap that was, in fact, terrifying. “Or I will make you.”
While she’d simply gag him, Hux didn’t know that and fell silent. Rey looked to Kylo Ren again, eyes soft once again and mouth a sweet curve. “Ben, you are better than him. So much better.” She lifts her other hand, splaying it across his unmarred cheek, watching him tilt into it. “And even if you can’t stop yourself now, I’ll help you until you can.”
Kylo struggles for a breath, rasping out, “Thank you.”
“Now let’s get him out of here.” She turns, looking General Hux in the eye as she speaks, sinking into his mind with help from the Force. “You will stand and do everything I or Kylo Ren ask of you.”
He repeated the sentence back, standing and waiting for orders. “Follow us.” She reaches for Kylo’s gloved hand, and, after a quick look down the hallway, they make a run for it.
Look at this trash)
Once upon a time the always amazing krem-de-le-creme sent me a skype prompt that went as follows.
Anders realizing Hawke had a bad day and tries to cook him dinner, fails horribly. Also, he and justice should fight about adjusting ingredients.
This is the result. I really don’t feel like I have their voices quite down yet? But I swore I’d try new pairings…
It’s late, definitely more night than evening, when Hawke finally throws open the doors of the mansion, weight balanced on the blade of his staff. Anders looks over at the sudden interruption in alarm but when he sees no blood, only fatigue, he turns back to his stack of parchment. Justice urges him back to writing - He is uninjured, do not be distracted. We must continue our work - flaring lightly beneath Anders’ skin, tracing tendrils of blue like vines up his hands from the tips of his fingers.
“Thought you’d be at the clinic, love. I went there first but it was locked.” Garrett’s voice as he calls across the hallway is hoarse, like it always is when he’s been yelling and Anders feels a momentary pang of regret that he had declined to go with him. Hawke sounds tired, exhausted really; each heavy footstep drags across the floor, as though lifting each boot is simply too much effort. Justice pushes it back down and he keeps writing.
“Closed up a few hours ago,” Anders says. “It wasn’t too busy today, we must have finally got the latest plague sweeping through Darktown under control.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me how the Wounded Coast was?” Hawke whispers into his ear and Anders jumps, actually jumps out of his chair. When did Hawke get so close? He must be slipping, not to hear footsteps so close behind him.
“How was it, my heart?” Anders asks absentmindedly as he puts quill to paper again and scrawls another line.
Hawke laughs as he stumbles forward, bracing himself on the back of Anders’ chair.
“Oh, you know how it is. Pouring. Raiders. Slavers. Spiders everywhere. But all in all, not too bad for a Tuesday.”
At this Anders lays his quill down despite Justice’s faintly flaring protest, looks up at Garrett and chuckles, laying a hand lightly across his cheek.
“I should have come with you, love,” he says, stroking calloused fingertips against the man’s overgrown stubble.
Hawke melts into the touch, closing his eyes only to snap them open again with a sheepish expression as his stomach rumbles so loudly that Dog twitches awake from his place in front of the fire and growls.
“I’m hungry…” he whines, casting a hopeful look at Anders who rolls his eyes lightly.
“What about Orana?”
“It’s her night off…” He trails off and it’s silent for a few moments before Garrett sighs heavily and continues. “I guess I’ll just go down to the Hanged Man… Alone… Find something that might only give me a mild case of food poisoning…”
Anders stops writing, he never can resist Hawke’s whining. Justice stirs as he drops the quill but Yes, this IS important, this IS Justice. How can we leave our lover to suffer? and the spirit within him quiets, settles to nothing more than a light, flickering imprint under his skin.
“I’ll make you something, my love,” Anders whispers, pressing a kiss against Hawke’s chin before he walks off towards the kitchens.
Hawke hears a loud clanging which jerks him from sleep, the imprint of the edge of the table carved across his cheek.
Off in the kitchen Anders’ voice raises until it’s nearly shrill and Hawke thinks that’s probably not a good sign. Whatever Anders is making does smell wonderful though he realizes as a loud growl from his stomach brings him back to reality.
“Justice, NO. You don’t even eat, stop adding things!” There’s another loud crash, as though a pan has been slammed onto the hearth.
“That is far too much salt, Justice. Maker, the last body you inhabited was a corpse. Corpses wouldn’t know what actual food tastes like.”
There’s a distant rumbling, much like a lightning spell, that he can’t translate into words just yet; not until he takes a deep breath and catches the faint metallic twinge of lyrium twisting in the air. Justice. It’s always Justice now and Hawke summons a thread of mana, listening intently to catch whatever the spirit adds.
“Humans require salt in order to live, as well as enjoy it. We must add more.”
That really doesn’t sound good. Nor does the answering, aggrieved sigh.
“Anders?” He tries to no answer. “Love? Are you two alright in there?”
“We’re fine!” Anders says as Hawke heard a dull thud, rather like a tin of spices - quite possibly the aforementioned salt - hitting the floor. “Don’t come in!”
Hawke groans. That is definitely a bad sign. He rises with a sigh, bracing against the edge of the table and walks over towards the kitchen.
“Anders?” He calls and just as he walks across the threshold there’s awhoosh and a high spark of flames from the hearth. “Shit!”
“I…” Anders stutters, staring at the fire rising higher with each passing second, wide-eyed. “Hawke…”
He pushes past Anders, priming winter’s grasp between his hands before releasing it onto the flames which sputter and flare before dying out.
“You alright, my love?” Garrett asks, stifling a cough as the smoke rises higher.
Anders smiles ruefully, raising a hand to rake through the strands of hair that have escaped his mussed ponytail. “I… we ruined your dinner, love.”
Hawke grins, taking the last few steps towards the blonde before pulling him into a soft, needy kiss.
“S’alright,” he mumbles around Anders’ lips. “Think I’d rather move on to dessert anyway.”
Arthur gave another small, impatient look on his phone as he stepped out of the taxi, to even bothering to return the smile the driver gave him. Twenty fucking calls, and double amount of text messages and nothing. Not that Arthur would’ve cared, really. The anger flared through the Brit when he even thought of Martín. That fucking idiot. It was even more annoying that getting ignored by him caused Arthur to come all the way to his house. Just to beat the hell out of him, of course.
He let out a grumble as he knocked on the door, mostly just glaring at the ground.