betts
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“Gotta say, I didn’t have ‘sneak into Chrissy Cunningham’s room at three a.m. to help her come down from a bad high’ on my senior year bingo card. Excuse me if I’m a little in over my head here.”
Or: Chrissy starts hallucinating. She goes to Eddie for help.
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“What other secret fantasies do I have that are glaring neon signs for you?” Anakin asks.
“You’re conflicted,” Padmé says, “because on one hand you want to be a very good boy for me, but on the other you want to misbehave so I have a reason to punish you.”
He blows out a plume of smoke and taps the ash off his cigarette. “You know, I really thought you were a nerd. I thought I'd have to be like, ‘Hey, how about you tie me up sometime.' Get you into this stuff little by little. But no, you’re diving right in like we met on a BDSM subreddit or something.”
Or: Padmé has car problems. Thankfully she knows a good mechanic.
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Oh god, what if they kill her? What if they actually kill her? A thrill ripples up her spine. She’d be all over the news for, like, two days. To think, her fans might mourn her death. But then they’d move on, and she’d be forgotten, like Brittany Murphy or Anna Nicole Smith, and people would watch her movies and be all, “She died,” and their friends would say, “Whoa really? How?” and the first friend would go, “She got murdered by the Russian mafia.”
Or: Years after their breakup, Barry has ascended to fame while Sally still struggles to land bit parts on procedural cop shows. And then one day she gets kidnapped by the Chechens.
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Rey was inelegantly draped across the wide table over many books and notebooks, typing back to Poe at an awkward angle something about how Mr. Solo was the best math teacher she ever had, and just because he was strict didn’t mean he was cruel, unlike some of their other teachers like Phasma (PE) and Hux (French). She wasn’t worried about Mr. Solo noticing her—she’d been his student over a decade ago, and she looked wildly different than she had then. She’d had a reverse duckling-swan transformation: in high school, she'd been beautiful, lithe, effervescent. Now she looked like the human equivalent of a balled-up tissue, soft but used.
“Hello, Rey,” came a familiar voice from behind her.
Or: Twelve years ago, Ben Solo was Rey's super hot math teacher. Now, Rey is between jobs, hyperfocused on her tabletop RPG campaign, and grieving over the death of her ex-boyfriend. Ben has just lost his mother and inherited a house that needs fixing, and Rey has nothing better to do than to fix it.
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Wei Ying’s thumb hovered over Lan Zhan’s number. It would be a brief phone conversation. Not even a minute. He would tell Lan Zhan what needed to be done, and Lan Zhan would say “mn” a bunch of times, and Wei Ying would spiral all day about how much Mr. Hot and Perfect All the Time probably hated his guts, and it would be fine. Emotionally, no different than any other Tuesday.
Fine, sue him, he was a coward. He pulled up a new text and typed, My son is sick today. Going to doctor. Can you do smoothie hut call? 500m CRE + 250m LOC
He sent the text. The ellipses rose. He waited.
Or: During a long overdue divorce and messy custody battle, Wei Ying gets demoted to small business finance. There, he's partnered with a new closer who clearly hates him, until he finds out Lan Zhan is far more verbose—and dare he say flirtatious?—in writing than in speaking.
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Bookmarked by betts
10 Aug 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
Eddie figures if this is how he goes out, then hell yeah, because it’s the most metal death he can think of. Dying between Chrissy Cunningham’s thighs while she creams on his tongue. Hail Satan, indeed.
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“Chrissy,” he sounds almost stern, and Chrissy immediately feels herself shrink in a little, "Are you implying you watch pornography?”
or: hawkins’ resident angel chrissy cunningham is drowning in existential dread and decides to buy some weed and make a dirty joke, eddie munson doesn’t let it slide.Series
- Part 1 of first one's free to get you hooked
Bookmarked by betts
31 Jul 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
She hears the rustling of wrinkled, written-upon paper and notices that in his lap is one of his campaign notebooks, sees he’s absentmindedly twisting the rings on his fingers and skimming it. Something about his focused gaze, about the way he moves, the fact he was so unbothered talking about the “nitty-gritty" with her that he’s been fucking multitasking, studying some stupid, nerdy game while admitting he’s fucked her friends and describing her as pornographic, meanwhile the conversation took literally everything out of her, felt like she was physically ripping out eighteen years of careful hardwiring from her guts. It’s just flat-out sexy. Chrissy doesn’t know how else to think about it.
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He looked grungy really, sloppy, unpressed; like he’d never stepped foot in a dry cleaner; like if his shadow had been a tangible object, it would have been wrinkled and creased; like if he were ever at a farmer’s market, forced at gunpoint to differentiate between a rutabaga and a radish, he’d be clueless. He wasn't at all like the Ralph-Lauren, two-cappuccino, metrosexual, BMW, stewardess-screwing carbon-copies she'd been forced to cohabit with at countless luncheons and out-of-town corporate soirees and the occasional, desperate speed-dating function. No, Mike’s guy looked more like the type who’d bend her over this forklift, and fuck her right here and now.
Bookmarked by betts
10 Jul 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
“You know,” Lydia said. She skimmed her fingertips along the ring of warmth on her neck where his hand had been. “When you deprive someone of oxygen, brain cells start to die at an alarmingly fast rate. This sets off a series of biochemical reactions in aerobic and brain tissues. Then your body works overtime to prevent something called glutamate overload. Whatever it is, I can’t recall the exact name now, creates this semi-hallucinogenic sensation that scientists have found comparable to taking heroin. I’m not actually crazy, you know? I mean, there’s really a lot of pure biology involved. It’s science really. And”—
He locked his hand over her mouth and pressed down hard enough for nearly every muscle in his arm to quiver.
“Shut…the fuck…up.”
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Master Mine by skyl_tales
Fandoms: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types
24 Apr 2020
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"What is the last thing you remember?"
Obi-Wan pursed his lips. "I was packing my belongings to prepare for my trip to the AgriCorps."
The Healer nodded, looking unsurprised but unhappy. "You are not thirteen, Obi-Wan," she said. "Yesterday, you were a thirty-eight-year-old Jedi Master and Council member. Unfortunately, there was something of an accident during your last mission."
- Language:
- English
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- 16/16
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Bookmarked by betts
05 Jul 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
Obi-Wan Kenobi had managed to fall in unrequited, inappropriate love with the same man twice: with his own padawan who considered him a father figure and with his own Master, who was a married man and soon-to-be father. Obi-Wan couldn't decide if he was the most unfortunate person in existence or the most pathetic.
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à la carte by RagnarLothcat
Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
12 Oct 2021
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Summary
Anakin Skywalker is a perfectly normal grad student. He spends his days at the robotics lab, his evenings working at an upscale restaurant and his weekends on inadvisable hookups. That is, until Obi-Wan Kenobi saunters into his workplace and sweeps him off his feet.
Despite the misgivings of everyone around them.
Series
- Part 1 of à la carte
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- English
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- 55,600
- Chapters:
- 8/8
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Bookmarked by betts
29 Jun 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
Obi-Wan steps into his space conspiratorially. “I think you’re very pretty.” He leans in a fraction. “You have a face that could get a man into a lot of trouble.”
“I know,” says Anakin. “It’s my face, and I’m always in trouble.”
*
Anakin wiggles in closer. “Good idea. Obi-Wan, can I tell you a secret?”
“Quite easily, dearest, since you’re sitting on my lap.”
“I’ve never actually read Hamlet. I’ve only ever seen The Lion King and I’ve just been pretending this whole time.”
“Darling. I know.” Obi-Wan kisses up his neck gently. “You will be surprised to learn that in the original, King Hamlet is not actually killed by a stampede of wildebeest."