#(good heavens i have not a single clue what my ask tag is)

[solalunar-eclipse]

I love your Secret of the Ancients story! Sonic Boom is my favorite Sonic show, and you giving it a third season through your writing makes me so happy! I am about to start the four-part story, and now I see you've updated it with two more chapters! I can't wait to read the rest!

Hi there! Thank you so much for taking the time to send in this ask, that’s really very kind of you. I’m delighted that I could reach Sonic Boom lovers and give them a small version of the continuation we all missed with this fic :D

It’s also really been a joy to see your tags as you work through the story, I love seeing which chapters get a reaction!! Thank you for taking the time to reblog and tag them all, that means a lot to me. I’m excited to see your reactions to the next few chapters, as well as the last three whenever I manage to get them out!

[fillinforlater]

Two Selfies and a GIF

Male Reader x Naoi Rei

Length: 2341 words

Tags: lovers on vacation, teasing and tempting, public sex, blowjob, overstimulation, face fuck, gagging, standing sex, anal, sweat, body appreciation, anal creampie, thrill of maybe getting caught

TW: sex in a public space, also barely any editing

Inspiration: an ask from quite some time ago

(A/N: I hope this fic makes you say Holy Moly. @writerpeach because he wanted another Rei piece lol)

“Another sunny day! <3 Hope to see you all soon~”

You jump from your bed. Most of the time, you have no clue where the feeling of deja vu comes from, but this one is still palpable. A year ago, you were on vacation with Rei on some warm, small island nation, blessed with endless sunshine and she sent a similar selfie with a similar caption. Her hair was still brown back then, if your memory serves you right. 

Unlike last time however, you can’t dig straight into her cute pussy. Rei is not on the bed beside you, although that’s where she took the picture. In fact, she’s not even in the hotel room anymore. You check the washroom a final time before looking back down on your phone.

“Where are you?”

“By~ the~ pool~”

The phone has yet to disappear in the pockets of your shorts when you’ve already stormed out of the empty hotel room and towards the elevators. Alright, she said something about going to the pool, you remember, but you didn’t even notice that she took the selfie earlier. Hopefully this won’t end in a chase of never ending teases because you missed the moment she was horny and right next to you. 

You jump out of the elevator and across the lobby, both staff and visitors confused by your hurried, hectic behavior given the calm, vacation atmosphere. Your urgent need to feel your girlfriend's body, to see that face, adorned by beautiful blonde hair, with thick lips and a lewd glint in her eyes, it’s easily overtaking your desire of being perceived as normal. 

“By the pool isn’t accurate enough,” you puff and pant while your eyes go over the many, many pools and parasols and people. It seems Rei isn’t in the water or on one of the loungers, so you once again reach for your phone—just to be greeted by a couple of private messages.

“Still need you to fill these cheeks~ or did you mean my other cheeks?!”

The wink, the tongue bite, the v-pose. She can never post this picture or else all those horny fanboys would blow infinite loads to it (not like they aren’t already doing it; don’t kid yourself). It’s sexy, tempting, only meant for you. You know what she wants, what she needs, what you promised her, yet she continues to play with you.

Until suddenly, another message. A third selfie? Even better.

“I hope you remember where this is~”

The changing booths by the pool. The unmistakable brown walls and baby blue curtains. Rei has complained about their design choice on the day of your arrival, now she’s there doing tik-tok-instagram-dance-challenge-thingys, flaunting what you’ve been craving. Needless to say you sprint there as fast as possible, disregarding all the warning signs about slipper tiles or blissfully ignorant tourists. 

You’re on your way to bliss, and nothing will stop you.

Rei sticks out among the few people in the area. Her tall figure, her blonde hair, not a second later and you get a hold on her shoulders and drag her into the next booth. The Japanese girl doesn’t even seem fazed. 

“There you are,” she sultrily says, eyes on yours through the mirror wall. Good heavens, you forgot about that thing. It’s going to be so much fun. With a single swoop you close the curtain and take a closer look at Rei’s fuckable body through the mirror.

“You look to good not to fuck,” you groan and pinch her cheeks, looking at her duckface, mesmerized by how plump her lips are, how good they will feel. Rei winks again and your hand is already past the waistband of your shorts. “Get on your knees, now.”

Rei’s smile is horny when she pulls down your shorts while getting on eye level with your cock, which jumps free and barely, sadly misses her face with the removal of your briefs. Rei spits in her hand and pumps you, focused on every inch of your hot rod. Suddenly, before any annoyance can urge you to do it yourself, she puts you on her lips. A heavy push that sends you back against the wall later, you're inside her and have to bite a lip to not groan out every profanity known to mankind. 

Feel her tongue swirl around your cockhead while an expression of determination forms on her face. You can see that she is already planning ahead on how to make this the best head she’s ever given you. Rei has an amazing bitch face, but it also fills you with thread. You have to surrender to her mouth, her lips, her tongue—now her hands that grab your hips and then—

“Oh, fuck, ouh fuck!”

Rei slams her head back and forth, your cock going in and out almost fully with every single repetition, while she gags and slobbers on every centimeter she forces into herself. A bizarre thing, face fucking herself on you, for your pleasure, yet you are about to wince for mercy. Rei’s mouth is perfect, but it’s all too fast, without warning she grinds the top, then the back of her tongue on your sensitive slit. You leak, you hiss, you struggle to stand or think.

“Re-Rei, t-too much, fuck.”

Rei pops you free from her lips, but they look eager to go back to it and apply even more pressure on your cock. She firmly holds the base of your dick and glares at you.

“Then do it yourself, pussy. Fill my cheeks already.”

It’s like she’s given you the controller to a video game back; though this is vastly superior than anything you have ever played. You pull at her hair, force her to cry out before flailing backwards against the opposite wall of the booth. This time you lay your cock on her lips on your own merit. 

“I’ll make you take that back.”

Pry her slutty mouth open, hope she is ready for impact and make her entire body convulse when you slam your pelvis into her face. The feeling of her tight, gagging throat is a lot different when you're in control, not better, not worse, though you like that Rei can take your roughness so well.

You close your eyes and begin to thrust, rarely giving her time to breathe, never giving yourself time to rest. The generously wet expedition into Rei's throat both feels like finding something new and being at home. A familiar warm feeling and alien sounds, your girlfriend's deepthroats are one of a kind.

Rei is opportunistic, her tongue now out of her mouth, receiving hits by your balls as you continue to fuck her face. It's one of those days apparently, when she is for some damn reason completely enamored with your sac. Maybe she likes the hisses that escape your lips because of the extra stimulation, maybe she is just impatient and wants what's inside of them.

When her already generously big and round cheeks are the biggest and roundest, you finally pull out and let her cough out the pool of saliva, two smaller pools underneath her eyes are also letting loose. You smack her purple-blue lips with your stiff length.

"I thought you could take it," you laugh at a set of coughs by Rei.

"I, hng, thought you'd fill my cheeks.

"Loser."

"Okay, get up."

Cheeky grin on her lips, Rei pushes herself off the ground and you push up something of your own, her tight crop top. You struggle to get the white fabric over her bountiful tits, but she is quick to help you by stretching out her arms high in the air. After a couple of tugs, you see the two massive melons bounce freely—or not. Two laughably tiny patches of silk, connected to each other and Rei’s neck form a bikini that is definitely too sexy for this pool, for any pool. 

“You really wanted to go out there wearing this?” you question, a finger already hooked in one of the patches.

“No, that’s why I’m still here~”

“Then it’s confiscated.”

A single pull and the bikini top falls off as if spider webs held it together. Now they are free, Rei’s magnificent melons, round like her cheeks, soft like her thighs, the nipples stiff like you. Before you give them a squeeze however, you surprise your girlfriend by roughly yanking up her skirt to above her hips. Rei yelps and loses her balance, but one of her hands finds safety on the mirror, mirror on the wall.

“Very unlike you to not go straight for my chest,” Rei teases, her voice still stable though her stand becomes a lot less stable when you get behind her and plant her firmly in front of the mirror. Now she needs both hands to not fall over with how you manhandle her light yet astoundingly thick frame. 

“They will get enough appreciation later.” Put emphasis on these words by nibbling her ear. She trembles in excitement.”I want to hear you say it again.”

“Say what again?” Rei once more teases, as you hook a finger into the flimsy excuse of a thong she’d call a stylish bikini, ready to reveal both her aroused entrances. “Oh, that. 

“I need you to fill my ass cheeks with your sticky load, pretty please.”

So fake, so lewd, yet so incomparably preposterous. The moment her bikini bottom falls down her long legs, Rei presses her bottom against your cock and it takes barely any effort for you to get it inside her. Talking about bottom, you're close to bottoming out, but Rei’s cute yet also growling cry has you scrambling to find something to gag her. You’re still in public, she can’t be that loud. All you find is the pathetic bikini, which you shove into her pretty little mouth. 

“I’m going to fuck you good, but keep it down,” you groan into her ear and give in to the risky, yet irresistible desire to plow her ass. Rei is trying her best, munching and soaking the green in her mouth rather than screaming out your name. You’ll buy her a new, better bikini after this anyways. If she’d ran around in that thing for more than a minute, then you’d need to fuck her the rest of your vacation and that would be—wait, would you even mind that?

You’d do it like this all day long, her wrists in your grasp, her body slightly tilted towards the mirror while you watch her tits bounce with every thrust into her tight back entrance. Rei is at your mercy, only upright because you want to. Each inch you pull out has her scrambling for footing, but you gladly give them back to her, into her, to the point where exactly this has her knees buckling. 

“Fuck you’re so… suffocating,” you mumble, the heat from your crotch spread up to your head long ago. The same goes for Rei: a hand on her freely jumping tits confirms it. Her eyes roll into the back of her head when you roll a nipple in between two lazy fingers. It’s not much, but you swear it made her even tighter and less stable. 

You lift a leg of hers, feel the sweaty meat of her full thigh make your hand sink deep. It reminds you of a pillow, a comfortable bed—now a waterbed because her orgasm is wet. Rei surrenders her beautiful back onto your chest, eyes closed, mouth ready to voice her pleasure but she has to keep it shut. Outside are people, laughing, gossiping, going about their lives. And in here, you recklessly pound in the still sensitive Rei.

It’s incredible how she still relaxes around you, how easy it is to fill her with a girthy cock. Honest to God, it has you tripping, forward, against the cold mirror. Rei spits out her bikini-gag when her hard nubs touch the reflective surface. You’d stop her ensuing moans from escaping her mouth, but you have to hold onto her thigh and breast. There are just not enough hands to touch every perfect part of her body—and her lips are definitely on that list.

Your orgasm is nigh, hence why you thrust frantically, the claps of a nye pelvis on nye ass now also louder than any background noise if someone is close enough. You can already hear the murmurs from behind the curtains. Someone whispers about hearing weird sounds—you have to bust before you get busted.

Rei’s fishnet-covered foot crawls up a wall. Fucking is now easier, so you put in the final gear and reach for her hips to to smash her back into you. Everything is too loud, too lewd; Rei’s expression, your expression, your combined groans, all the sweaty and love juice trailing down your legs—

The connection of your cock in her ass as if explodes on the final thrust you can muster up. Rei’s anal cavity is stretched and now stuffed to the fullest to the point where pulling out will cause a mess of cataclysmic proportions. You have to stay inside her for longer, plug up the cum filled hole as it sluttily clenches around your sensitive cock. 

“Fuck, that was perfect,” Rei groans, her body limp between you and the mirror. You look at her and smile for a second. That round face, adorable, makes for great selfies and family pictures. Mere moments ago, it was drooling and moaning uncontrollably. The duality of Rei.

“Yeah, but how the fuck do we clean this up?” you ask, hands mindlessly on your girlfriend's chest.

“I don’t know, I haven't planned for this scenario. I thought you’d fuck my face and I could swallow it all and then you could fill my ass in the hotel room.”

“Well, we can still do that, but we now need to get out of here.” You try to think for a second before your eyes fall on the fallen bikini thong on the floor. You stop massaging Rei’s breasts and instead reach for her pussy, wet and flushed. “By the way, what was your goal with that ‘bikini’?”

“O-oh, you really don’t like it?”

“It’s just that I wouldn’t be able to help myself but fuck you if you wore that. It’s way too revealing. I don’t want anyone seeing the pussy I fuck and the ass I fill and the tits I fondle—”

“So you want no one seeing me?” Rei moans softly when you rub her clit.

“Yes, cause I love you so fucking much, Rei.”

“Ts, looooser~”

[protect-daniel-james]

WIP asks: what is your oldest? What is the one you will probably never finish?

Omg, do unfinished chaptered fics count?

AO3 tells me the oldest non-finished chaptered fic is Silent Freeway, an Alex Turner/Miles Kane fic from ancient times. I am kinda ashamed of it now, because ultimately it was too much for me to write about - I chose the light topics of mental health and psychosis with my poor English skills, and obviously it was a pain in the ass to write in the end. I wasn't brave enough to go back and read it but I can imagine the shit I wrote back in 2016 in English. It was too much drama for the sake of drama, no characterisation, no reasonable behavior... I will definitely never finish that one. I'm not that much into Milex, and the whole story seems childish today.

Fun fact - it has over 11 000 words making up 11 chapters. Yes, 11 chapters. Which means about 1 000 words per chapter (I was so proud of it back then, lmao). Good old days. Nowaydays I write a 11 000 word fic about Inzaghi brothers fucking.

WIP which I might actually finish one day is definitely Let's fade together, let's fade forever. No football. Historical Figures RPF combining two of my favorite fruity couples from late 18th century, Alex Hamilton/John Laurens and Frederick II/Hans Hermann von Katte. As the tag says, I imagine Heaven as a waiting room. A waiting room where Laurens and von Katte meet and talk and wait for their loved ones. I think it was a nice lil' idea, a fic that became known as "sad gays in heaven". Yeah, it is still rather naive and silly looking back, but I am still quite proud of that one. It's literally missing one chapter.

My problem is I get too excited about a new thing, and I am able to produce quite quickly a new fic when I am excited. A planned out multichaptered fic even. But then, the excitement fades - either because I find a more interesting new thing, or because the response is non-existent, and I see that something I was excited about and cared about isn't really interesting "to the outside". Now don't get me wrong, I'm not one to count kudos and comments because I know that the ships and themes I write about are very niche (I am well aware that if I write a Pedri/Gavi fic, it would get to 200-300 kudos, if I write a Grizione fic, it would be around 50, but if I write about Unai Emery, there will be like 5) - but even with this awareness, if a fic I truly was excited about doesn't really get a response, I just don't feel motivated to prioritise it, work on the next chapter, or write something about the pairing again (unless it's Unai and Football, because those fics I take as a form of experience, exploration, and almost academic work so I don't care if y'all aren't reading those; they are for me to explore the unexplored. although it's nice when people read and comment on them, and want to discuss its topics, obviously).

When it comes to unpublished WIPs, I don't really have many of those because I tend to start my WIPs when excited and then I usually work quickly (unless it's literally a 10 000+ words fic like the yacht fic or like the Inzaghicest one might be). One that I promised to do was a Henderson/Stevie G in Saudi Arabia engaging in bad, sleazy, desperate sex because they have no clue what they are doing there, but I haven't really started to work on that.

I started working on a Mourinho/Abramovich fic (with a flavour of Abramovich/Sheva).

"Mr. Abramovich - " José made a significant pause, spread out his hands over the edge of the desk that separated him from the addressed man. "I know you like him. Is easy to see." For a moment not a single muscle in Abramovich's face moved. Then, his eyebrows rose up, and he tilted his head, smiling; not just smiling but amused at such a simple yet daring statement. "Is it?" he asked, although José wasn't completely sure about the wording. It might have been just a simple, bemused repetition of the word he himself used to describe his reading of the situation - easy.

I think it's now the oldest actual draft that I have, but it's only 2 months old lmao. As I said, I finish my fics pretty quickly (after all, I usually write directly in AO3 - believe me, I did regret it a few times), and the one month due date on drafts works miracles.

[lynnedwardswrites]

Find the Word

Thank you @writernopal!

Tagging: @vcaudley @rhikasa @gwendolinequinn @melusinewrites @radiowrites

My words: melancholy, opaque, repeat, mixture, spell

Your words: song, math, climate, responsibility, charity

All from The Hare and the Jackal, Draft 10 unless I say otherwise - first couple chapters currently up on Royal Road.

melancholy

I could only find this one in Draft 7, but the tone of the scene has since changed (POV Creed, D7,Ch2):

Once, a long time ago, Isabella used this song to splinter the Wolfguard’s shackles on my body and my mind. It has a melancholy echo in this dark crypt that makes me suddenly grateful—on more than one account—that she was here to save me today. 

repeat

(POV Luther, Chapter 5)

I lean over the desk. “You’re promising half the Kinshold’s most arable land. What will be left?” [Mary] rolls her eyes. “The Glory of the Gods, father, and pride in a mother who knew humanity’s place in this world.” My fist cracks against the desktop. “Damn the Gods! For cursing me with such wasteful daughters!” Her left hand flies to the saber at her hip, and she falls a half-step back, reddening. “May They curse you again for your arrogance!” “Arrogance?” I repeat, dumbfounded, pushing myself back off the desk. “Arrogance? Fifty years I’ve spent on this throne, waltzing aristocrats and bishops into submission, shoring up power and support, so that one day my children and their children could rule with the benefits of an ordered house and bounteous vitality. And what thanks am I given? You’ll turn Morgenhaus into a temple so large the people will have to sleep in Castilar!” Her knuckles tighten around the scabbard. “I’ll turn Morgenhaus into the Kingdom of Heaven while you’re busy sleeping in hell!”

mixture

(POV Isabella, Chapter 9)

I bite my lip, but can’t help struggling slightly. My arms are trapped under his. “I think we need to go pay the Slippers a visit tonight, don’t you?” “No, I don’t think that at all,” he murmurs, tracing the tip of his nose along my cheek. He’s so heavy. “Creed!” I complain, pushing against him. He grins, shifting his weight to the side so I can breathe, but doesn’t let me escape. I’m glowering at him, inhaling unevenly, trying not to smile at his stupid, sexy face. “You brought this on yourself, you know,” he says. “Oh did I?” I ask, daring him to continue. Despite the rocky start, I can feel a thrill starting to build at this game. An odd mixture of discomfort and excitement. “You tricked me! You promised me a kiss earlier and I have yet to get one.” He’s leaning towards me as if he’s waiting, that impish smile still playing just beneath the surface.

spell

(POV Luther, Chapter 5)

I harden, remembering the real reason she left all those years ago. “Yes, you’re still only interested in dipping from an empire’s coffers without paying an empire’s price, selfish girl. Your greed will spell the death of the nation if I don’t keep it in check!” [Isabella] stands abruptly, the chair shrieking as it’s shoved back across the floor. She’s livid. “Vortigen raise your rotted corpse!” she says, and then she’s striding towards the closed door, about to scurry off to hide alone in her ill-gotten burrow.

opaque

Likewise, have could only find this in a snippet from Draft 3, which is still written in third person (Chapter 33 - with Spoilers!):

“Hey, now, friend,” Creed interrupted, shaking the man a little too hard. “We don’t want to kill you. We’re just looking out for the Lady Prince. If you change sides, help us prove the Governor is guilty of treason, we’ll let you go. You’ll live. How does that sound?” The man met Creed’s eyes, hope dawning. He started nodding. “Yes! Yes! Please don’t kill me! I’ll help! I’ll… I’ll testify!” “Good man. Good man,” Creed smiled reassuringly. “Now, are you sure the Governor doesn’t know where the Lady Prince is? He doesn’t have a single clue? We have to be sure, to keep her safe, you understand?” The man nodded, almost dazed by the shift of luck. “Yes. We don’t have a single lead. The Governor’s starting to get worried that she snuck aboard a ship, and we missed her.” He seemed earnest. Internally, Creed sighed in relief. Isabella was still safe. The Wolfguard had primed the pump in their favor, for once. “There you are!” Firat huffed, rounding the corner. Creed dropped the agent. He stumbled forward half a step, and Isabella killed him with a lightning bolt. “Got him!” Isabella-now-Passi said to Firat in a bright voice, sighing in relief. “Now no one knows Shapour survived!” Creed blinked disorientedly for a moment, watching Isabella’s face for some clue about what she was feeling under the layers and layers of disguises and personas, but she was opaque, even for him. She rushed towards Firat, hovering her hand over Shapour and making a show of dropping more vitality into the charred form. Some of the flesh started to regrow on her face where the vitality entered, but there were no other visible signs of healing. Creed was honestly surprised the seele took, but Shapour was apparently still clinging to life. 

[dramaticvhs]

my favorite teen wolf fics in no particular order:

{ part two } { part three }

these are random (stiles centric!!) fics that i love. please read tags before you read a fic from this list!

( fics with ⭐️ beside them are are ones I constantly reread )

Don’t Mark My Territory by NadiaHart

(Sterek, Explicit, 17k)

Stiles doesn't know what the hell has gotten into Derek lately, but he's damn sure going to find out.

or, the four times Derek marked his territory, and the one time Stiles marked his

What do you mean scent marking? by mistress_of_mythology

(Sterek, Teen, 10k)

Stiles doesn't notice it at first.

Why would he, when he was busy trying to take down a psychotic geriatric with a God complex?

When he finally does notice it, it's not even him who figures it out, and Derek was no where to be found.

Five times someone points out that Stiles smells heavily of Derek and Stiles can't figure out why the alpha is scent marking him and the one time he got a clue and got the guy.

Drown Me with Kisses by LadySlytherin

(Sterek, Explicit, 19k)

When a rusalka in the preserve nearly kills Stiles with a kiss, Stiles is in grave danger any time he’s near a source of water - not just rivers, lakes, and oceans, but pools, bathtubs, the shower, a sink full of water - you put water in it, and it could probably kill Stiles now. Deaton’s advice? Break the rusalka’s magic with a kiss of opposite power - love to beat out death.

#nofilter by Patchouli (GrimPatchouli)

(sterek, Explicit, 17k)

Derek has questions. Stiles has answers. Also dick pics. Stiles has Dereks' dick pics.

As Gunpowder Needs A War by laisserais

(steter, explicit, 22k) ⭐️

AU where Stiles's life follows a very different path, but he still runs into Peter Hale. He's seventeen when he's convicted of murder and sent to an adult prison. Guess who his new roommate is.

I Wanna Take a Ride On Your by Sheepnamedpig

(sterek, explicit, 21k) ⭐️

Stiles is...endowed.

Derek...likes it.

Beg So Pretty by DefNotForWork

(sterek, explicit, 1.9k)

On a weekly basis, Derek looks to the heavens and prays with every fiber inside of him that he might be granted the ability to go back in time and keep his werewolfy teeth far away from Erica Reyes.

Or the one where Erica "accidentally" calls Stiles Daddy and Derek can't get over it.

New Experiences by EmeraldTrident and mikkhaletwink

(stiles/derek/peter, explicit, 7.7k)

Stiles Stilinski heads to a remote cabin in the woods for a one night stand with an older guy he met online. When he arrives, Stiles discovers the man brought a friend to join in on the fun. Stiles doesn't have a single complaint.

Touchpaper by entanglednow

(sterek, explicit, 8.3k) ⭐️

Danny is bruised. Their werewolf drama has officially bruised Danny. This is the worst day ever.

Best and Worst Decisions Made On A Friday Night by Patchouli (GrimPatchouli)

(stydia, explicit, 2.9k)

They’re eighteen, they’re seniors, they’re alive. These were all things once-upon-a-time in danger, so Lydia took it upon herself to throw a party.

The Heisenberg Anthology (series) by Jenetica

(stydia, explicit, 33k) ⭐️

Lydia Martin has no idea why she agreed to de-virginize Stiles. Seriously, she doesn’t.

But it's the best decision she's ever made

The Long Way Around by wynnebat

(steter, teen and up, 15k)

When Peter leaves Beacon Hills for good, he expects that to be it for the broken bonds of the last remaining members of the Hale pack. Fate and Stiles Stilinski aren’t of the same opinion.

Dastardly by Design by gryvon

(steter, explicit, 16k) ⭐️

Peter thinks Stiles is in love with Derek. Peter is wrong.

Happy Endings are for Winners by design whatthefridge

(stackson, explicit, 17k)

Jackson is willing to kick anyone down who gets in his way to becoming alpha.

Except he turns out to be omega.

Stiles is stubborn enough to pursue him anyway.

An Alpha Who Doesn't is No Alpha At All by Triangulum

(stiles/female pack members, explicit, 8.4k)

“You don’t like being the reason someone falls apart?" Stiles asks, shocked. "Hearing her whimper and feeling her shake? You don’t like the taste and the feel and how she tugs your hair and grinds against your mouth?”

“No,” Scott says, shaking his head. “I don’t.”

“I do,” Derek says easily.

“I like it,” Isaac says.

“Same,” Cora says.

“I love it,” Peter says, smirking at Scott’s glare. “It’s quite the turn-on. Especially with our senses.”

“Yeah, no,” Scott says, still looking like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Stiles turns to Allison and Kira, putting his back to Scott, blocking him from their view. “My sincere condolences,” Stiles says seriously, shaking his head.

OR

Scott thinks oral sex is gross, and Stiles, appalled, makes an offer to Allison and Kira.

Theirs by Merwin_Me

(stiles/chris/victoria, explicit, 6k)

“Your mouth will get you in trouble one day.” Victoria’s voice sounded a little breathless as she spoke.

“Pretty sure it was our boy’s mouth that got me into trouble.” Chris mused, and Stiles whined.

Tongue Tied by Wineabout

(steter, mature, 4.4k)

“I want you to tie me up.”

Peter stares for a moment, half leaned in his condo doorway and trying to decide what precisely he wants to clarify first. A rope is dragged out of the slouched backpack Stiles has slung over his shoulder, it’s rough, like thick garden twine. It looks like it would give him a rash just handling it never mind wearing it.

“With that?” Peter sneers as he continues to assess the rope Stiles is pulling out of his bag like a nervous party magician.

Whatever Works by KouriArashi

(steter, sterek, explicit, 61k) ⭐️

The problem with having your soulmate's first words to you tattooed on your arm is knowing your whole life that you're fated to be with a jerk. It's enough to make Stiles want to date other people ... which is how he winds up dating his soulmate's nephew.

The Art On His Skin (series) by slythatheart

(stanny, explicit, 39k)

Stiles had a navel piercing.

Stiles.

Written to fill a prompt from the Everybody Likes Danny Fanworks Fest.

Enemy Action by pprfaith

(steter, NR, 4.7k)

Once is chance, twice is coincidence and three times is far too many bodies on the ground.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys. 

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 

More cheers, more hollers. 

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 

Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Hell no!" 

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?" 

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer." 

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 

He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!" 

"Ayyy, waterfall!" 

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 

*

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 

*

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?” 

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 

“Holy—” 

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

*

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 

Is still hot. 

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 

God dammit, why is he so sexy? 

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

*

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 

And, there's that point. 

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 

But, it needs to stop. 

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point. 

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?" 

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal." 

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 

"You have any classes?" You ask. 

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 

"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?" 

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 

"God dammit." 

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

[sinnamonrasinslut]

The Ease With Which We Hurt [I] ICorpse Husband x Fem!ReaderI

A/N: You guys. I have never simultaneously loved AND hated a piece that I wrote. I really don’t know how I feel about this, but I promised myself last year that I wouldn’t overthink my writing, so here we are. This is part one of most likely four, but we’ll see about that. Thank you to everyone in my inbox who gave me ideas to turn this into a multi chapter fic! They’re all coming, I promise :)

SYNOPSIS: Corpse loves her, she loves Corpse. But both of them are too dumb to realize it, and too afraid to admit it. 

It started, like most good things in his life, out of the blue.

He met her three years ago. Well, not met, but befriended her three years ago when her podcast was just taking off. He remembers sending her a DM about how great her work was, remembers her being gracious in her praise of his own narrations after and he remembers talking to her well into the night until she fell asleep. The rest, to Corpse, is history.

And yet, all he knows of her is a voice, a name, and the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. she chooses to wear a mask every time they FaceTime, just for the formality of the entire ‘faceless’ situation. She’s told him she thinks it’s ironic, how she feels like he knows her inside out, and she’s still afraid to show him her face. It’s not like corpse can blame her. She doesn’t even know his name, let alone what he looks like, and it’s a miracle she hasn’t filed him away as some no face creep by this point. 

But she hasn’t. She’s still here, after three years of being her friend, and almost a year of seeing her eyes and convincing himself that she’s his friend, damnit, she’s still here. It’s already a lot more than he can ask for.

He’s been holding himself back from falling in love. Or rather, he’s been in love for as long as he can remember, but he's been adamant on denying it; because he knows how this goes. It’s never gone well for him in the past. And he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s afraid. But sometimes, she tells him things that make his heart break, just out of the realization of how absolutely fucking stupid he's being, holding back from her.

He’s convinced that when he dies, she’s going to be the light at the end of his tunnel. That heaven means nothing more to him than a place in her world, however small, however insignificant, as long as he gets to see her eyes for the rest of eternity.

Every part of corpse tells him that it's love. But he tries to push it away, suppress his own feelings till he's nothing but a walking contradiction, overflowing with voices that only say her name.

But he’s tired. And he's scared. Because he’s been down that road before, opened himself up to people who haven’t liked what they saw and left with pieces of him he’s not sure how to tape back. He’s unsure if he's willing to let her try.

So, he settles for a small corner of her world, a little piece of her existence that gives him life, and every time he talks to her, hands flailing as she animatedly tells another story, he pushes the yearning to the back of his head till it crawls down and clings to his windpipe, unsure and immeasurable, and he can’t speak anymore without choking. But then she says things that make his heart jump into his throat, and then he’s choking but for entirely different reasons.

“What would you do if I was gone?”

He doesn’t mean it like that. Well, he does, a little bit, but his brain isn’t taking over every part of his body trying to convince him he’s unwanted, so he doesn’t mean it like that. He’s only curious, maybe in need of a little reassurance. And nobody does reassurance better than her.

She doesn’t say anything for a very long moment. Corpse knows the gist of her impending answer but the pause still blooms unnecessarily in his chest. But it’s not like they haven’t done this before.

“I’d write about you.”

“Huh?”

She only huffs a laugh at his confusion. She pulls a blanket closer around her and props up her phone to rest against what he assumes is a wall.

“You’re not easy to forget, Corpse,” her voice is soft, truthful without flattery, provides comfort without justification. “if you were gone, I’d write about you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, that’s the least I’d need to cope.”

It’s not what he thought he’d hear, but it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that it’s exactly what he needed. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her. 

“Besides,” she continues, hair falling in her face as she adjusts the blanket, “there is no place for me in a world without you in it.” 

 And he physically feels his heart stop and clench in his chest. The thought of meaning this much to anyone, to her in particular, is more than he knows how to handle. So, he doesn’t follow that up with a quip, no teasing laughter, no suggestive, exaggerated winks that only he can see. He only lets himself bask in the warmth of her honesty, lets her smile at him in that way only she does, the way that makes him freeze and ache and crumble.

He chooses not to talk after that, settles for listening to her tell stories about her childhood. Her voice is the purest thing he’s ever heard, he’d hear her talk till the world ended if he could, and the sweet lilt of her voice lulls him to sleep hours after she’s hung up the phone.

He doesn’t get to talk to her for almost two weeks after that. He misses her a little, but he keeps that to himself, and instead, tags her under dumb twitter memes and sends her pictures of cats that he’s saved specifically for times like these, and another video of two geckos fighting on a tree captioned ‘u and me’ .

There’s no place for me in a world without you in it.

The words wrap around his ribs like a noose, tightening by the second. Some days, when his heart is fast enough to beat out of his ribcage, it grounds him just as much as it hurts. But when she’d said it to him, it passed through him like a train wreck, distorting all semblance of control he’d convinced himself he had.

He knows it’s ridiculous, but he loves her. She’s only a voice through his phone and eyes on his screen and he has no clue what the rest of her looks like, but he’d be damned if he lets himself deny it one more time. He loves her. And that’s the most terrifying thought he’s ever entertained.

It doesn’t take long after that realization takes root, for him to send her a picture. He doesn’t let himself think too much about it. Taking pictures of himself is still new to him, but he tries his best. Don't think about it too much, he reminds himself, and unsurprisingly, it's her voice in his head that does all the soothing. He captions it something stupid, more out of habit than anything else (my hair makes me look like Dora the exploraH), with his name across his forehead and ‘Dora’ in brackets beside it. 

Momentarily, he wonders if he’s ever asked her if she even wants to see his face. (He has, and he distantly remembers her agreeing as long as he’s comfortable with it.)

He hits send before he has the chance to stop and think. 

Then he waits. 

Her response is quicker than he’s prepared for, her name flashing across the facetime request on his phone. He’s giggling before he even picks it up. 

“CORPSE, WHAT THE FUCK!” 

For a very long moment, they just stare, taking each other in. This is his endgame, corpse thinks, he’s never going to need to show anyone his face after this, nothing, no one will matter as much. 

With a jolt, he realizes that she’s not wearing her mask. He can see her, all of her, and that on its own should be enough to take him out.

And then she smiles. 

If there was any doubt in his mind before about how head over heels he is, she’s taken it out of his mind and stomped it to the ground. He’s not the poet in this friendship, but he’s assured he could write entire paragraphs about the way she smiles. And he tells her exactly that. 

“I’m curious to see how that would fit with fine lass nice ass cat ears and she uwu,” she teases, eye twinkling with mirth, “but I'm sure you’ll figure it out.” 

He’s both amazed and amused at how quickly they go from fawning to bantering. But perhaps that’s the thing about her that feels so familiar.

“I will write a song about you baby, don’t tempt me.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

“It’s a confession,” he shrugs, suddenly shy, unsure of where to lead with this. Thankfully, she interjects before he has to say anything else. 

“That’s an awfully bold confession for a man called Corpse.”

“I’m also awfully alive for a man called Corpse, but you don’t see me complaining.” Awfully alive and not enough husband, he wants to say, but he keeps that to himself. 

“You complain about being alive everyday, Mister Husband,” she counters and Corpse groans, dropping his head into his hands. 

“I say that to you in confidence,” he grits out, playfully glazing at her.

“You also tell about a million people on stream, I’m not special,” she laughs. 

“You are very special to me.” His voice is soft, shy, almost afraid to tell her the things he’s saying, “I did say I’d write a song about you. Pretty special if you ask me.”

She hums, taking a huge gulp of water and nodding enthusiastically. 

“Correct, me, the cat girl and the e girl. What’s the next single, Corpse? Faceless Girls are ruining my life?” 

“You’re a rascal,” he chides as a familiar warmth settles around his heart, and grips. 

“It is one of my finer qualities, yes.” 

Distantly, some part of his brain registers that this is the first time he’s seen her, but there is no sense of hesitation in his head about her. It feels just like it always has, with her on the phone saying the silliest things, and him responding with equal enthusiasm. This is the way they’ve always been. 

While she talks, hands animatedly moving around, Corpse allows himself a small moment of reprieve to think. He knows he loves her, but he wonders briefly if it’s too soon to be in love with her (he concludes that probably it is, given that she remains unaware of his feelings, but he finds that it doesn’t really matter)

Because while Corpse loves her, he’s sure he doesn't know how to love her. Doesn’t know her favourite flowers even if he knows her coffee order by heart, doesn’t know her ideal date even if he’s memorized every poem she loves. 

The meanest parts of his brain tell him she deserves better, and he knows they’re wrong. But a small part of him can’t help but dwell. He’d rather have her and her unnecessary hand movements in his life as his friend than not at all. So he pushes away his feelings for another day, and just listens to her talk. 

Corpse is perfectly content with that. 

[writingtoforgetreality]

Delicate - The Devil’s Daughter Chapter Nine (Lucifer Morningstar x Daughter!Reader)

[Lucifer-Masterlist], [The Devil’s Daughter-Masterlist]

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Summary: Amenadiel did not trust you one bit. Why? Well, you were not sure yourself. But you would find out soon. 

Words: 1,464

Warnings: language, angst, I think this chapter is good to go, (Y/E/C) = your eye color, (Y/A) = your age

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Dinner was incredibly uncomfortable. Amenadiel had not stopped staring at you & you desperately wanted the floor to swallow you as a whole. The worst part was that Dan seemed oblivious to everything. You did not even bother engaging in their conversation. Mostly, your eyes trained on the little baby who you found out was named Charlie. He was really sweet. Not like his scary father with his stone cold stare.

“(Y/N)?” it was the first time Amenadiel directed his words at you. You almost choked on your food. Why were you thinking that he would not talk to you? It was bad enough that he made you queasy but him asking you something? Well, you were not necessarily prepared if you were honest.

“Um, yeah?” you had never sounded so ludicrous in your entire existence.

“Can we talk?” his eyes bore into yours. Dan kept eating like nothing was wrong about this situation.

“I guess.” an awkward chuckle left your mouth.

“I mean in private.” his voice was deep. You definitely did not want to mess with him. Eyeing Dan, you found him uninterested. He simply motioned for you guys to go ahead. Okay, what was going on? You had never met this guy before. And he just came waltzing in, demanding to talk to you. It was not really a demand. More like a question with a demanding undertone. Whatever it was, it left you uneasy. Getting up from the table, you gestured for him to follow you. He gave Dan some instructions how to deal with little Charlie & then entered your, or better said Trixie’s, bedroom behind you. The door fell closed & suddenly, you were alone with a stranger. Seemingly no way to escape whatsoever.

“So.” Amenadiel started.

“So.” you breathed out.

“Anything you wanna tell me?” his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Should there be anything?” your head tilted, clearly showing that you had no clue what he wanted from you.

“What are you?”

“Usually, it’s “who” but-“

“No. What are you?” sounded like he was not in the mood for jokes. Truthfully, you were not either but you thought a little sarcasm would ease the tension between you two. When you did not give him an answer, he continued. “I know you aren’t human.” that made you stop in your tracks. (Y/E/C) eyes widened in fear.

“W-What?” you managed to stutter out.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t play dumb.” Amenadiel walked over to where you were sitting on the bed. Placing himself beside you but not too close, so there still was a good amount of distance.

“I…I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” by now, your eyes trained on your lap where your hands fiddled to avoid eye contact. It was not like he was a bad person or anything, just the way he talked & about what he talked was not really what you expected from one of Dan’s friends.

“I think you do.” he sighed out. “And if you’re not telling me then I believe we’ll have a problem.”

“Why would there be a problem?” your heartrate picked up its pace & you had no control over it. Your legs bounced & if you did not clench your hands into fists, the trembles would be visible.

“Because I can’t tell if you’re a threat or not.” he was being serious but to you, his statement was hilarious. Hence why you could not hold in a little laughter. Regaining your composure, you locked your eyes with his again.

“Do I look threatening to you?” a little smirk was plastered on your face. Everyone who knew you knew how you would never hurt anyone. Clearly, he thought otherwise.

“Yes.” that caught you off guard. A man like him being afraid of you? You, out of everyone? Did not sound real but whatever. He started speaking again. “As an angel, you can see someone’s true form. I can detect another angel, a demon. But when I look at you…I don’t see anything.” you were too shocked after his revelation of being an angel. That had to be a coincidence, right? He could very well be lying. So why did you believe him when he told you that? Still, you would not let your guard down. Not that easily.

“Isn’t it good when you don’t see anything? Means I’m no demon, right?” whatever you said, it was the wrong thing. Because the man next to you looked amused.

“You kinda gave yourself away with your answer. You weren’t shocked when I said I was an angel.” oh, you were shocked but probably not like a human being would be. “So that brings me to my conclusion that you aren’t human. I’m asking you again…What are you?”

“You know my name, right?” you looked at him expectantly. After a nod from him, you kept going. “Then it should be an easy one for you to put two & two together.” now it was his turn to look confused. Rolling your eyes at him, you explained further. “(Y/N). The big, bad angel nobody wants to get too close to.” your hands gestured exaggeratedly but Ameandiel’s face was still full of confusion.

“I don’t know an angel named (Y/N).” he mumbled it more to himself. “Did father send you?”

“Father? You’re talking about the Big Guy?” your eyes rolled. Of course, if Amenadiel was an angel then it would make God his father. “Trust me, I’d still be up there if it weren’t for me leaving right away.”

“Right away as in you turned (Y/A)?”

“Bingo.” you smiled at him. “Look, Amenadiel…If God sent you to bring me back tell him to stop trying so hard. Because I won’t ever go back.” you grew more & more angry.

“Nobody sent me.” again, it sounded like the truth. “But I’m not lying when I say that I don’t know an angel named (Y/N).” that, on the other hand, sounded like a big fat lie.

“Sure thing.” you laughed. “You’re here to make fun of me then?”

“No, I’m-“ but you interrupted him.

“I can’t believe you…” you whispered while shaking your head. “For (Y/A) years, no other angel gave a single shit about me. I’m leaving heaven & all of a sudden the others care? Or make fun of me? Trust me when I say you’re too late.” you got up from the bed, approaching the door. Yet, you came to a halt the moment your hand touched the doorknob. Shoulders sunk down. If you were honest, you were kind of hurt right now. When Amenadiel started talking again, his voice was much softer.

“I didn’t know you existed. And by the way you’re talking about heaven…it doesn’t sound like you had the best experience.” you scoffed at that. “Though I can only believe you if you show me your wings. You could be a demon, after all.” it was weird for him to meet someone who claimed to be an angel. But only because he could not see your true form. Whatever was going on with you he had never seen before. He had not even known that something like that was possible. That was, of course, if you really were an angel. If not, you could be a threat still. And he would not let you get too close to Charlie if that were the case.

“Forget it.” turning around again, your arms crossed over your chest.

“Then it means you’re a threat.” he pointed out, slowly getting up to walk over to you. When you instinctively took a step back, your body pressing against the closed door, then he came to a halt. You were uncomfortable, he could tell.

“I’m not a threat.” you breathed out through gritted teeth. “It’s not like I don’t wanna show you my wings. It’s more like I can’t.” your head hung low, thinking about the bandage on your back that probably needed to be changed soon.

“And why is that?” you were drained entirely. Like your social battery was empty. Besides, it was probably easier to show him than to explain everything. Grabbing the edges of your shirt, you turned around & lifted it enough to show the bandages. Blood leaked through. Not a lot but still. You flinched when you felt him remove it. He was careful but it was a very vulnerable moment for you. After all, nobody but the archangels & God had seen your wounds & scars before. You heard Ameandiel letting out a shaky breath. How you wished you could see his face, his reaction, right now. It felt like hours before you heard him talking again. And you could only make out his voice because the room had gone entirely silent.

“What did they do to you?”

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (04/12/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @fandomqueen2003, @natashaashleymarvelromanoff, @severewobblerlightdragon, @tenderlyunlikelyexpert, @zoseph, @suffering-canucks-fan, @dad-ee-drea, @xbarrjallenx, @marvelofwitch, @aceofspace95, @julessbrown, @thevelvetseries, @kotkaniemi-caufield-mom, @crumpets-are-better-with-jam, @strangewhovian-blog, @officialfictionalwreck, @peachescream06 (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

[dizzydancingdreamer]

The Servant and The Prince | Three

Part Three lovelies; do enjoy! I quite liked writing this part.

Description: This is very much a Cinderella trope because I cannot help myself and I am in love with Loki, chapter three

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader, third person as I may adapt eventually with an OC

Warnings: Intimacy but not graphic, anger (is that a warning? I feel like it shouldn’t have to be said when it is a Loki fic, the man is canonically angry)

Tags: Fluff, not really angst but suspense

Word count: 4.4k

Disclaimer: I do not speak old Norse Lmfaoo this is purely the basics that I gathered and it 110% is grammatically incorrect so do not come at me for that I am admitting it

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Master List

“Please Surtr.”

Her voice rings through his ears on a loop, the most beautiful and agonizing melody that he has surely ever heard. She must be magic— something strong and powerful and like nothing he has ever seen before. There is no other explanation. It had been magic when she appeared to him, literally falling into his lap as if out of thin air. He is the god of tricks but even he cannot do that— he cannot make women that smell like flower petals land in his arms at will. He wishes he could— more than anything he wishes he could pluck her out of his dreams and bring her back to him. But he cannot because that was not a trick. That was something else entirely.

One moment he had been alone, mulling over his mother’s words from a few days prior. I think you might have a soulmate, my dear. He had been thinking about the information he had been scouring the castle’s libraries for about such a thing— information he was begging Frigga to tell him. Of course, in true Frigga nature she would not tell him. His mother is the most stubborn woman in the realm. Wonderful but stubborn. Only he could have an all-knowing mother who refused to share any of that knowledge. She told him it was dangerous to know the future— that it must happen as it will. What nonsense. How is he supposed to find her if he knows nothing about her?

The books were of little use to him as well. The information in them was outdated and flimsy at best. They consisted mainly of a couple second person accounts and scroll that he could translate if he was given a few days. Unfortunately time is of the essence and he does not have a few days. He barely has one day. One day to find his person or to give her up. And he thought he was the cruellest god. Apparently not. Anyway, that was where he was when she fell into his lap- mulling over a page of runes that looked more like gibberish than anything he had ever seen.

One moment he had been sitting at his desk, pretending like the sunshine on his hand was a product of any sky other than Asgard’s. The next moment he was being straddled by a misty figure that smelled like an afternoon in the castle gardens. He could not see a single detail about her— not her hair or her eyes or anything else— but he could feel her. She was warm and soft, her thighs heavenly around him. She was his own, little slice of Valhalla— a perfect fit. Frigga was right; all it took was a few seconds in her presence and he knew. She was his soulmate.

A soulmate who seemed like she was out to make him crazy for her, no less. Sure he could not see her but it was not hard to tell that her thighs around him were bare, squeezing him against her smooth skin with reckless abandon. It would have taken significantly less for him to go mad for her— honestly it would have taken nothing at all— but, Odin, if that was what she was going for then she definitely succeeded. He can still feel her warmth pressed against him, the way she had sunken down onto him immediately. She knew too. How much she knew he cannot say but she had to have known something- felt something— by the way she melted perfectly into him. She was his from the moment she appeared and she seemed to know it— embrace it. She acted like he was hers too and it was by far the sexiest thing he had ever experienced in all of his thousand years. That is surely saying something.

Obviously he did not just simply give in to her flowery aroma and Valhalla thighs- he had tried to speak to her. Many times actually. She just could not hear him. Of course it took him many times to realize that. He probably asked for her name and where she came from about a hundred times before she finally rocked her hips against his and tapped her lips with two wispy fingers. Be quiet you idiot, I cannot hear you. That is what he imagined she had said. It is what he would have said to himself if he were in her position.

He was floored, to say the least. He has never been floored before- not like that at least. Not in a good way. He stopped wondering where she came from after that. It no longer mattered from where on Asgard she had appeared, only how to ensure that she did not leave him again. He had been looking for her- scouring useless books and a stubborn mother- and then there she was, right before him, and he was determined to hold onto her.

Still, he had not leaned immediately into her touch. She had not made it easy on him, her gentle fingers reaching up to cup his face, scratching through the days worth of hair on his jaw. That was impossible to resist, he simply had to press his lips against her palm. The rest, though, made him go still, evaluating the situation. He had no clue what she actually wanted- how much she actually understood. He had grabbed her hips in reflex- a defense mechanism- she had appeared out of literal thin air after all. He had gone to move his hand almost immediately after grabbing her- well, once the shock had worn off. She was quite warm, though. Distractingly so. It takes a few seconds to push through that kind of daze. That was where things got interesting.

She had begun sliding off him. Maybe she had been in that same sweet daze too because, from what little of her he could see through the misty white haze, she appeared to be lost in her own little world. Her bottom lip was pushed out- colourless but plump- her soft body slowly shifting. There is no way she had noticed; she had made no move to catch herself.

So he did.

He is not really in the game of letting women fall into heaps on his bedroom floor, let alone one that makes his heart beat the way that she does. It was a simple action- all he did was anchor his arm more steadily around her body- but in doing so he unleashed a chain of reactions that, even now, he cannot fully comprehend. It is honestly quite mind boggling how everything played out. If Frigga had woken him up that morning and told him that his soulmate would jump into his lap later that day and then proceed to tease him for an entire hour, he would have laughed. No, he would have rolled over and gone back to sleep. The point is he would not have believed her. Frigga, his oracle mother. Maybe that is why she did not tell him.

So there she was, falling, and there he was, catching her, and somewhere in that small chain reaction he had pulled her higher onto his lap- again, to keep her from falling off him completely- and that is when her eyes flashed the brightest silver he has ever seen. It was only for a few seconds but it was there; he saw it! It had made him freeze. Not many things make him freeze. He is a god. But there he was, frozen on that stupid wooden chair with what he can only assume was the most idiotic expression any man has ever held. It had to be magic- there is no other explanation for the way his ability to breathe completely vanished. It was like her eyes mattered more than air itself.

Meanwhile she was moving her hips again and then her hands were digging into his shoulders. It was blissful- no that is not strong enough. Trekking through the woods alone is blissful; she was something else entirely. Of course he was still frozen- a damn statue- as his little soulmate squeezed those Valhalla thighs around him harder and sunk down onto him- right in that exact spot that made him wonder for a second if she was sent to him as a test of willpower.

But no, there is no way that was the case; not with the way her silver eyes sparked again and rolled back into her head like it was the first time she had ever felt something like that. Not with the way her misty lips had parted, some of the luscious color finally peeking through, releasing a sound that he would have gladly fought every other god in the realm to be able to hear. He could not help but reach out in that moment and touch her face. He had to make sure she was real. Yes, she was on his lap but that was not enough. He had to know for sure. As soon as his fingers had met her soft skin it was game over. She was real and she was there.

His hand hooked around the back of her neck easily, as though her head was meant to be held by him- the same way her thighs engulfed him perfectly. He nudged her gently- for a moment she had gone still. Asleep maybe. He wanted to see her eyes again though. He had not been disappointed when her eyelids opened to reveal a lightning storm of molten silver swirling in her irises. Forget Valhalla thighs; every part of her was carved from the stuff of the heavens. Still he glanced down to look at them, his eyes dancing over where her misty dress had ridden up to reveal two perfectly smooth legs. Magic, he had thought to himself again. Definitely magic.

He needed more.

He had to make her eyes spark even more. He had pulled her higher- closer- his hand squeezing her hip, pushing her into him harder. It worked. But not only did it work, it made something more happen. It made her speak. It made him hear her. Sort of. Not fully, her voice was muffled- like she was trapped under the surf- but he could hear some of it. The little sighs and whines. He could hear them and now that he could hear them he never wanted them to stop hearing them. It seemed like she felt the same way, her hands shooting out and dragging his face towards her, her muffled voice now frantic. There are very few things that he would have not done in that moment to understand what she was saying. Thankfully he had not had to do any of them. She had not given him the chance to do any of them.

He will hand it to his soulmate, she is a strong little thing. To be fair he had not been expecting for her to literally yank him closer to her, fisting his shoulders like she was on a whole different kind of mission than the one he was starting to believe she was on. For a moment there he thought he was going to stop breathing for a completely different reason. A deadly reason. But no, she was not trying to kill him. That is not to say that his heart did not stop- it most certainly had. How could it not? Her dress was fully around her hips now. That would make even the strongest man crumble. He would like to think that he is the strongest man but, honestly, in that moment he had to rethink that stance. He was not strong there.

Apparently he had froze again because the next thing he knew she was throwing herself at him harder, her flower scented body wrapping around him completely as she sank against his neck. She was not letting up- his heart was going to fail, he had been sure of it. He was going to die and she was going to disappear and whoever found him would be left to wonder what in Asgard happened in order to make the trickster god die with a shit eating grin on his face. How fucking ironic.

To think she had not even started torturing him yet and he was already imagining his demise. Looking back on it now he could laugh. In fact he does, a small chuckle breaching his daydream. If only he had known that soon she would press her velvet lips against his neck and steal the last drop of his composure. Maybe he would have been able to intercept it- to press his own lips against hers and feel that lighting sparking through her veins. If only foresight was as sharp as hindsight. What a terribly cruel thing it is to be able to know what he should have done only after it has happened.

Before he can fall deeper into the memory- that blithe experience of pressing her soft body into the very desk he sits at now- there is a knock on his door.

“Loki?” He is not even the slightest bit surprised to hear Frigga’s voice filtering in from the other side of the heavy wooden door.

He does not bother standing. “Come in, mother.”

His room fills with the squeaking of the door on it’s hinges and the soft sound of her heels click, click, clicking against the stone floor. He turns slightly over his shoulder, peering at the tall woman as she glides towards him. If he were not able to hear her shoes he would swear that she is floating, not actually touching the floor. She is much too graceful for her own good, especially given the clunky man she is married to. They definitely balance each other out, that is for sure.

Loki nods at her when she stops a few feet away from him. She glances around his room, her lips pressing together. He does not really know why- it is immaculate as always. Empty. Maybe that is the point, though. Maybe she wishes it was not. He wishes that at least. She continues to stare for a few more moments, her face shielded. It is unnerving, to say the least. He goes to offer her a greeting- to add some sound to the emptiness- but she beats him to it.

“You saw her.” She is still looking at his emerald bed.

His eyes widen. He blinks a few times to hide it but his mother never turns to look at him. Now she stares out the window, lifting one of her small hands to wave in and out of the light that filters through. He cannot look at the light for too long without his mind wandering dangerously. A wandering mind is never usually dangerous but around Frigga it is the most dangerous thing a person can have. He refuses to give his mother even more access to his mind than she already has.

He sinks back against the chair, schooling his features into a cool grin when she finally turns to look at him. “Saw who?”

Frigga rolls her crystal eyes at him, scoffing. “Do not play coy with me son. Now is not the time for games.”

His grin drops. Yeah, that is pretty much exactly what he is expecting her to say. Still he had to try. One of these days he will be able to bar his nosy mother from his thoughts. Not today, but one day.

“Yes, I saw her.” He grinds out. Sometimes speaking to her feels like when he was a boy having his baby teeth pulled out- irritating.

“Do go on. I somehow doubt that is where the story ends.” She leans her back against the wall near his window, her slender arms crossing over her chest, brushing against her flowing blonde hair.

He has to look away again, standing and turning to gaze anywhere but in that general area. There is too much electricity still- too much of her. He does not know what to say about her. He is not about to share the gory details with his mother. He refuses. If she wants to know that badly then she can close her eyes and conjure the image herself, she is more than capable of such a simple spell. For her it would be as easy as breathing.

“She just appeared,” he shrugs. It is the truth, after all. “Out of thin air. One moment nothing and the next moment-” he spins back to his mother, mimicking a small explosion with his fingers- “poof. A soulmate.”

Frigga raises a golden brow, her lips caught somewhere between a smile and a frown. “Poof?”

“A soulmate.” Loki finishes for her, shrugging again.

He does not understand it either. It is almost comical- two of the most powerful beings in the realm positively stumped over a disappearing act. This is child's play after all! Surely one of those books he had been scouring earlier would know something about this. If only he had known what to look for at the time. Vanishing soulmates. Invisible girl. Lightning eyes. Again, hindsight is a jest.

“Well,” Frigga muses, lines appearing on her otherwise flawless forehead as she paces a few steps, her heels click-clicking again. “What did she look like?”

This time he laughs. Now it is comical. “I have not the faintest clue.”

She freezes in her pacing, now half-way across his room, “what do you mean you have not a clue? Surely you must have seen her.”

He shakes his head again, his laughter a little more desperate this time. Suddenly it is not so funny anymore. It never was. He knows that. Better than anyone. He can feel everywhere her body is not touching his and it is a kind of agony that he had not known existed prior to this. He has been in battles before- had pieces of him sliced off and sewn back on- but this is different. You cannot stitch an invisible wound. There is no blood proof, no sign of injury, not even a limp. Just a man who feels like his insides are being ripped out of his body- like his damn organs are trying to find their way back to her; with or without him. He almost breaks down and pleads with them. Take me with you.

“Loki?” Frigga’s hand against his face breaks him from his daze. She is always saving him; it is infuriating.

His voice is just a whisper when finally answers. “No, mother. She was just mist. I could touch her but I could not see her. Well, not her appearance. I could see the mist.”

His mother’s hand on his cheek stills. “Can you explain the mist?”

His back straightens, the corners of his mouth turning down in a sneer he cannot force away. Usually he would never be so cruel with Frigga, no matter how badly he would like to. It makes him feel guilty- ashamed. He never wants to hurt her. Right now, though, he cannot keep the ice out of his voice. It is in his nature after all.

“It was mist. I really do not know what you want me to say. White mist. Clouds maybe. Is there anything else you would like to know, mother?” He squeezes his fist together, concealing where the tips of his fingers begin to frost over.

It is pointless- she would not have noticed anyway. She had drawn away from as soon as he started describing his invisible soulmate. Now Frigga’s face is stoney- her eyes glazed over. She is no longer in his room. He does not know where she is but he has seen this happen before. Not often enough to keep his heart from skipping a beat. His mother is fine but somewhere inside him that scared little boy debates tugging on her sleeve just to make sure.

“Hylli mær.” He flinches back when she speaks.

Her voice does not sound like his mother’s usual gentle tread. It is deeper- stronger- and echoes against the stone walls. Loyal maiden. Frigga never uses the old tongue anymore. She used to, when he was little. It was how he learned the language of the gods. She would sing him lullabies about kings and monsters, all in a language he could not decipher. For what seemed like the longest time he could not understand the stories. Then one day he could. It was as simple as that- as simple as a children's song. This is different though- she is not singing to him anymore.

Loki takes a careful step back towards his mother, noting how her eyes do not follow his movements. “Mother, what are you-”

Frigga’s eyes snap to him and he goes rigid, his words halting. Her gaze still does not reach him but the haunting stare on his mother’s face could very well fool most people. Not her son, but most people. It is still unsettling, the hair on the back of his neck raising. That might be from the way the ends of her golden hair begin to float up around her face though. Her pink lips keep moving but no words form. Loki takes one of her hands, tensing when her molten skin touches his freezing fingers. His touch makes her speak again.

“Silfr auga, ríkr mær.” Silver eyed, powerful maiden.

Her voice is louder this time, no doubt seeping into the hallway. Her hair now floats around the crown of her head and the flowing sleeves of her gown begin to rise as well. He cannot be sure what his mother is seeing but whatever it is does not seem like a walk in the gardens. Her skin grows hotter by the second until finally he has to drop her hand to keep from burning his own flesh. He glances down at his hands, noticing the azure shade rising to meet the new temperature and blanching. No.

“Stǫðva!” He barks, grasping his mother’s slender shoulders, recoiling at the sharp edge in his voice. He has to do it, he reminds himself.

Thankfully that is all it takes to snap her out of her vision. Frigga blinks rapidly, her golden hair dropping against her chest, her crystal eyes darting around his room before focussing in on him again. It takes a moment for her sleeves to drop as well but when they do he decides it is okay to let go of her.

“Loki?” She lifts a hand to her eye, rubbing a circle under her brow. “What happened?”

What? He cocks his head, his mouth opening. He presses it closed quickly. Once again he has no idea what to say. Does she not remember? He lifts his eyes to the window, trying to form a sentence that will make even a little bit of sense. He is starting to get really tired of not knowing what to say. Some silver tongue he is.

“Mother-” he keeps his voice gentle, a stark contrast to the last few moments- “you were having a vision. You spoke in the tongue of the gods. Can you remember anything you saw?”

There is silence in his room for a long moment as he watches Frigga’s finger stop, her lips pursing. In that moment he wishes many things. He wishes he could hear the click-clicking of her heels, if only to fill the quiet. He wishes he were back in the library, scouring for anything that might give him even the faintest clue as to what in Niflheim is happening to him. Most of all though he wishes he was curled up once more with the soft girl- his soft girl- her face pressed against his neck and his hands locked around her back. He does not even have to see her- he will take anything at this point. Anything for just a second of peace. He cannot recall ever having felt this damn tired before.

Frigga’s hands slam against his shoulders, her bright eyes wide. Her fingers tremble against his leather armor. “I remember-” she gasps and he tries to ignore the way her hair begins to rise again- “I remember! She is here!”

“What?” He chokes, his hands rushing out to grab his mother’s before she can pull away.

Something inside him snaps, his vision laser focusing on the woman in front of him. He is not giving her the chance to scamper away this time- she will tell him everything she knows. Now. He does not care that she is his mother. She said it herself; this is not a game anymore.

It never was.

“Tell me what you saw.” There is not even a hint of question in his voice.

“I did not see her, per say.” She responds, her brows narrowing, her eyes taking on that far away look again. It makes his shoulders soften- she is cooperating. “I saw the mist you spoke of though. I felt her. My son, she is strong. I do not know how I missed her presence when she entered the city. Her power is disguised I think- unlike anything I have felt. I do not even know if she knows it. She was following behind two people and in her arms were many bags. They have come for the festival. I could not see them either but they were passing the castle gates just moments ago. They are here-”

Loki hangs on to every word that flows from her mouth, picking the important details from her rambling. The more he hears the more his shoulders tighten again until finally his spine is as straight as a pin, his veins flowing with just barely veiled power. His fingertips are so cold now that he can no longer feel them.

Strong.

Power.

Disguised.

Castle.

Here.

As soon as that word slips from her tongue he is moving, spinning on his heel and all but sprinting out of his bedroom. He has no idea the direction to go or where to even begin looking for her. The castle alone is almost as big as the city. His mother had said she entered the castle though so that means through one of the gates. A picture of the large golden gates- the main gates- appears in his mind. That makes the most sense, the most people will be entering there. Before he knows it he is sprinting, his boots pounding against the stone as he pushes himself as fast as he can go. He will find her today, even if it is the last thing he does.

It very well might be too, because the raven haired god rushes out of his room before his mother can finish the last of her sentence- “and she is in great danger.”

[maurine07]

So today is fanfic writers’ appreciation day (thank you to @openheartfanfics for reminding us of that) and I just wanted to log in for a bit to show some writers my love because y’all are the backbone of our society. Without you, we would’ve all been miserable. So I’m just going to tag some of the writers that come to mind and while I would love to tag each and every single one of you but I’ll probably forget someone so I’m really sorry for that. You are all super talented and I’m in awe of each one of you beautiful people.

@terrm9 Terr, darling, I could write an entire book about how amazing your writing is and how much I love it. You’re an incredible writer and person. The writing style is so beautiful and unique and simply ethereal and I’m so in love with it. Every single time I read a fic of yours, no matter how many times I did, I always marvel at how one can possess so much talent. There is not one trope that you cannot write. How you write the characters, their emotions, you always know the characters and how they think, they would act so well, it’s insane, how you describe everything, the surroundings, what the person is doing, everything is always so perfect. Your mimi series The Couple & The Others is one of my favorites and it's comforting to me, it makes me feel at home. Cieli di Toscana is also a favorite of mine. I love everything about that fic so much. I also love your ch. 11 rewrite with the prompts "There are people who love you" and "Give me a hug, please". I adore the hurt/comfort in those two. The angst is just ugh- it's so good, way too good and it destroys me. As well as A thousand moons, a thousand waves, goodness that fic is just pure and utter perfection, I have no words to describe it. And How much mystery, this love of mine...wow. Seriously wow, I still haven't recovered from how amazing it was. It's so beautiful, they say they're so soft and tender with each other, it's perfect, so perfect. And of course, your you give it to me anyway series is one of the best things I've ever read and I have reread it so many times to the point where I'm not even sure it's healthy. I love it, I love it, I love it, more than words can say. And your OCs, Chiara, Lina, the Ray family, you always know how to make them feel so real. You are truly so magnificent and I just love you and everything you do<3333

@jamespotterthefirst Bree! God, where do I even start? Everything you do is out of this world. Other than the fact that you're extremely kind and funny, you're so wonderfully talented and I love you. The dynamics between Lilac and Ethan are everything, EVERYTHING I TELL YOU. I love how you include the gang as much as you do and how you write them. And while I absolutely love every single fic you write, For A Long Time Now and Most Beautiful will always have a special place in my heart. And I don't think I have to tell you how much I love Lilac. I adore that woman with my entire heart. She's amazing and I would do anything she asks me to. Thank you for creating her and just got being such an incredible part of this fandom❤

@writer-ish Kat, your writing is so stunning. Like, everything about it is so amazing. The way you write Brooke and Ethan, their banter, Brooke's sass, your smut, just everything is pure perfection. I love everything you write but makai is just something else. I especially love B&E in it for some reason, just them being so in love and soft with each other. And you know how much I love Brooke. I would choose her over Ethan any day. She's just incredible and Ethan should worship her like the goddess she is, period😌

@the-pale-goddess Hilde, my angst and smut Queen, there are no words, absolutely none, to describe how much I love your writing. Ma'am, is there anything you can't do? (Other than not break our heart further, of course. One of these days you're gonna need to pay for my therapy. I cannot count the amount of times I was like: I'm feeling pretty happy today. Let me go to Hilde's masterlist and break my own heart. I actually do that so many times, it's pretty concerning.) I'm so in awe of everything you do, your angst? Unmatched. Your smut? So freaking hot. Your fluff? Makes my heart melt. Running to the Edge of the World and (as much as I shouldn't be admitting this in public but) Cabin Fever are just amazing, AMAZING. Puncture Wound is also one of my favorites of yours, the angst, the longing. God, it's so perfect. Conquest is superior to anything, everything and everyone. And of course, Contaminated. That fic breaks my heart yet I read so often that I almost know it by heart. I love LOVE Ethan and Tiffany's relationship even if I am a bit jealous of Ethan. They're the OTP, period. And um... Can I please have Miss Addams' hand in marriage? Like, you can call me Pietro mf Maximoff because I will take a bullet for her. I may also have some unresolved trauma and mommy issues but I promise, I will not make her wait two years just to commit or run to the Amazon and sleep with a coworker. She's my Virgo Queen and I'm so in love with her. The point is, your writing is perfect and I love it so much❤❤❤

@monsoonblooms12 Manamee, you beautiful soul, we don't deserve you and your mind blowing talent. Everything you write is just beautiful and my mind cannot process how you do it. Your fics, your edits, your moodboards, there is nothing you're not good at. And you're such a wonderful person and it makes me want to cry sometimes. I love you, darling❤❤

@blossomanarchy I read your meet my MC posts (and I will get to reblogging those later. I have them in my drafts. I just don't really have any energy at the moment.) and I love Amelia so much. She's already one of absolute favorite MCs. I truly look forward to your fic (if you ever decide to post it, I will be eagerly waiting for it and I have no doubt it will be magnificent) And your moodboards are absolutely stunning. I could stare at them for hours, hell, even the rest of my life. They're so freaking pretty!!💗💗

@takemyopenheart Avy, you're so freaking talented and I love your writing super much. Luz is amazing and I love her more than words can say. I adore her relationship with Ethan so much. Your fluff is god-tier and your smut is just *chef's kiss* as well as your angst. Yours were some of the first fics I read for OH and I still love them just as much as the first time I read them if not more.💕💕

@mvalentine Mal, goodness, you are a godsend to this fandom. I cannot, for the life of me, find the words to properly describe how freaking amazing your writing is. Lana is a Queen and I'm in love with everything about her. Like, I need her to reject me so I can move on already. I love the way you write L&E. They're such an amazing couple and they have my whole heart (also, ngl, I miss them like crazy). Hold On To Me makes me sob every time I read it and it was heaven a moment ago is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read in my life, the sheer beauty of it, it's poetry. You're incredible, my dear and your writing is so beautiful.<333

@genevievemd Sara, from the minute I read your first fic, I knew you were an incredible writer and I was so right. I love everything about your writing, everything. G&E are couple goals and I love them so much. Your angst kills me every single time. Like, you seriously need to stop hurting me so much, I can't take it anymore. But seriously, you're extremely talented and I love you❤❤

@stygianflood Hiya, I just spent a good five minutes trying to come up with any words to describe how freaking beautiful and otherworldly your writing is and I couldn't find any because it's truly undescribable, in the best way possible. Like the Shoreline and the Sea and Bridge over Troubled Water always bring me an immense amount of comfort. They feel like a warm hug even though they hurt. I've binged your masterlist so many times and I still can't process how you're so talented.❤❤❤

@anntoldst0ries Ann, my love, I don't know how to put into words how much I adore you and your writing. It's freaking poetry. It's so smooth. Like I could be reading one of your fics and I come across a line that is just so utterly beautiful and I'm just like: how?? How can one be so talented and come up with such beautiful lines? Lost in Translation is one of those fics that I cannot process because it's so incredible, it's so unbelievable how you manage to capture Ethan's character and thoughts and emotions so well. Coda is just perfection, girl, your smut is so good. And as much as I love all your fics, Shinrin-Yoku will always be my favorite. I love how you write about Noelle's metal health. It makes her feel so real and I really do appreciate that fic so much. You're incredible and your writing is just so magical and I will forever be so in awe of you.💗💗💗

@gryffindordaughterofathena Dri, god, I have no clue how you do it but you always manage to leave speechless and awestruck by your writing. It's so poetic and beautiful and I love everything about it. The way you write the characters and their emotional will always make me so damn emotional. You're just so brilliant and I love all your work so much.❤❤

@starrystarrytrouble All hail Queen Ruby, our savior from the nightmare that was OH3 canon. I know you're not here these days but I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you and all the work you've put into this fandom so much. You're so so incredibly talented. E&E are god-tier and I love them so much, more than I can put into words. Secret is one of my favorites mainly because I'm a sucker for enemies to lovers but also because I love E&E in that fic so much. Also, Anonymous! That fic is everything, I love it so much. And Eve is just amazing. I love everything you create and I miss you💕💕💕

@writinghereandthere Ana, I know we haven’t interacted before and that I haven’t reblogged any of your fics before but I seriously love your writing so so much. I’ve read and reread your masterlist more times than I could count and every single time, I was left more in awe of you than the last. Your writing style is just so beautiful and so magnetic. Like, if anyone interrupts me while I’m reading one of your fics, they can say bye bye to the world. Your do you fear death? series is just something else. It’s so out of this world. Fourteen Hours is amazing, it was the first fic I read of yours and it made me fall in love with your writing, the first I read it, I immediately loved it so much. I love how you write Mariana and Ethan so much, they’re everything. And I'm so in love with Mariana. God, she's so perfect! And Two Days breaks my heart every time I read it but it’s one of my comfort fics. More Than A Drawer is also a favorite of mine. I love the domesticity of it so much. And Golden! God, that fic! How the hell did you write that?? It’s so fucking brilliant and I don’t have the right words to describe it. Also!! Finer Things is one of the best things I have ever read. I am an absolute whore for Harper Emery and that masterpiece just increased that. It’s so magnificent! You’re just so freaking incredible and I will always wonder how you’re so so talented❤️❤️

I'm pretty sure I forgot some amazingly talented people and I'm so sorry for that, truly. Your fics have always been a source of comfort to me. During some of the worst times in my life, I would always find happiness and comfort in your beautiful creations. Hope all of you are having a great day and I hope you know how truly appreciated you are💕💕💕💕

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Being Fake Soulmates with Dr. Chilton (Part 4)

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader | The Good Place crossover

Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, angst

1,560 words

He held your hand loosely in his, stroking the soft of your palm with his thumb—an almost ticklish sensation that sent goosebumps rushing up your arm, making your heart skip erratically.

You sat side-by-side on a velvet loveseat whose curling arms were inlaid with patterns of baroque gold—entirely Frederick’s style, but remarkably comfortable nonetheless. One of your legs draped lazily over his, and his arm created a nest for your shoulders. It was wonderful being close to someone whose presence you were completely comfortable in. To feel his soft breathing rising and falling beside you, and the texture of his skin against yours.

The remains of your morning tea rested on the coffee table—a rustic piece of reclaimed farmhouse wood in which the raw natural materials were the focus. Your eco-aesthetic should have clashed with Frederick’s old-world aristocratic style, but somehow the combination elevated both.

Soulmates.

The more you glimpsed of the insecurity behind Dr. Frederick Chilton’s pretentious mask, the more you realized what it meant to be soulmates. It wasn’t about being the same, but different in ways that complemented each other. You kept him humble. He taught you to put yourself first. You filled his loneliness, and he brought out your confidence. But more than that, he was always there—no matter what challenges the afterlife threw at you, you came back home to each other, held each other, and everything was fine.

So long as you had your soulmate, you could face anything.

The steady stroking on your palm stuttered and paused. You lifted your head from his shoulder to see the pensive expression quietly furrowing his brow.

“If we met on earth,” he pondered softly, “do you think we would have...?” Dark notes of distress clouded his voice, as he if already knew and didn’t like the answer to the question he didn’t entirely ask.

“I don’t know.” If you hadn’t been told by an immortal, all-knowing afterlife architect that this was your soulmate, would have ever in a million years given Dr. Chilton enough of a chance to see beneath his snobby crust? You’d rather not hurt him by focusing on a probable no, so instead you said, “I only went to Baltimore once, as a kid. To go to the aquarium. I think it was a side trip from when we visited DC. Were you ever in New England?”

His jaw tensed—the only outward sign of what you expected was a fierce internal debate on whether to correct you for answering whether they would have met when his question was if. He decided to let it go.

“I spent some time there. I went to Harvard, of course, so I am familiar with the region.”

“I went to Harvard. Of course,” you repeated laughing, exaggerating the snobbish drawl of his affected accent. You swung your other leg over his lap to straddle him and peck a playful kiss to his lips.

His green eyes returned none of your mirth as he observed, “You always mock me, and then act as if it is affectionate.”

Your teasing grin fell. A hand lifted to his cheek. The other remained cozily nestled in his hand, but the fact that he didn’t melt into your touch proved how irritated he was.

“Oh, Frederick,” you cooed. “You are ridiculous sometimes”—he must know that about himself, right? The glower he returned suggested, in fact, he did not—“And I love you.”

Your last three words hung in the air and heated his face under your palm. He stared back at you unblinking, some of the hardness evaporating from his eyes at those words. It felt like hours waiting for a reaction before he swallowed thickly.

“Oh.”

He added nothing further than that oh. Though you supposed falling in love was inevitable for soulmates, it was the first time you’d said it out loud, and you itched for more.

“Well?” you nudged. “Are you… happy to hear it?”

“No.” His brow furrowed.

The blunt rejection felt less like a slap to the face and more like leaning back in a broken reclining chair and finding yourself blinking up at the ceiling from the floor. You had expected something different.

“You chose to say it now to avoid blame for insulting me; that is hardly kind. But what should I expect? You… you—” His entire face began to twitch: eyes narrowing in thought, suddenly going wide, then narrowing again. Then he looked at you almost mournfully, the softest, most tender expression clouding his eyes.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking about it like that. I just thought you were so cute—”

“No, no, no. This—this is not right. None of this is right. It is more than that.” He stood and began pacing the room. “I have been bothered by things for some time, but I chose to ignore them”—he cast a pained glance back at you—“because I wanted to believe it was true. But this makes no sense. Why would you love me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Of course I love you. We… we’re soulmates!”

He barked a dry laugh. “That is the only reason, is it not? Because we were told we were soulmates. How can we be sure we are?”

“Michael said—”

“Ah yes, Michael said. Naturally, we can trust Michael, the supernatural being we know nothing about.” His heel scuffed on the marble floor as he pivoted in his jerky movements to face you. “Think rationally. The existence of soulmates is extremely doubtful. How could every person have a perfect match? Are humans created in pairs? What happens if one’s soulmate dies in infancy? Or speaks a different language?”

“Just because they’re unlikely on Earth doesn’t mean they can’t be made for the afterlife.” You convinced yourself even less than him.

“It is not just you,” he said wistfully, eyes casting over your seated form next to the hollow impression he left on the velvet. “I do not think this is even heaven. No one likes frozen yogurt that much.”

“I like fro yo,” you muttered in a small defensive voice.

“But you like ice cream better. Why are there a dozen frozen yogurt shops and not a single ice cream parlor? It was a clue in plain sight. This place is a mockery of paradise. Every moment we have expected a reward, it has been twisted into a punishment, or a… a test!”

You stared back at him silently. Your tongue went dry, and you realized your mouth was hanging open, paused on the brink of something to say—some retort that would explain everything. But none came.

“Pairing us together,” he announced one syllable at a time, regretting his next words, “was never meant to be a reward. It was a trap.”

“But you make me happy! Not every pair makes sense at first, but I love you. We’re in paradise—”

“I would never have gotten into paradise!” The last piece of the puzzle exploded from his throat, a shouted confession. The air went still. “Perhaps you would have,” he muttered, “but I do not belong in the good place.”

At last, you stood and joined Frederick, your hands finding his again. They were warm, and big, and fit yours perfectly. You understood, then. As long as you were holding onto him, you could face anything.

Even the truth.

You shook your head. “No. I never did anything with my life. I tried. I recycled and drove a Prius, but I was too shy to call senators about environmental policy—too afraid or too lazy to lobby for infrastructure changes. I never did anything significant to fight for what I believed in. If the good place only takes the best of the best… I never came close.”

Frederick squeezed your hand. “I thought—” his breath hitched “—I thought I did. I believed everything had been worth it in the end. I finally achieved something; my work earned the recognition it deserved. Of course it didn’t! At least I am sharp enough to see through their farce.”

“But… but you’re my soulmate.” You clung to him like the wreckage of a sinking ship.

Frederick was silent, but you could hear his words in your head: There is no such thing.

“But you make me happy,” you argued.

But he also drove you crazy. But anyone reading the transcript of your lives would have expected you to make each other miserable. If you hadn’t walked in on him by chance while he was sulking and taken pity, you really would have tortured each other.

“Holy fork,” you muttered. “Is this the bad place?”

“That is the most likely possibility,” Frederick whispered.

Fear crept up your spine. If everything was a lie, then what else couldn’t you trust? Who else knew? Who was in charge? Could you even trust Frederick? You took half a step back from his grip and watched him return your glare with equal suspicion.

He wasn’t your soulmate. He was just a man you barely knew anything about.

You lurched forward and re-entered the radius of his spicy cologne, comforted by the familiar scent and the familiar texture of his tweed suit under your fingertips. “Wh-what do we do?”

“I do not know.”

His arms closed around your back, and he held you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ 

[amyscascadingtabs]

2020 in writing

tagged by the wonderful @feeisamarshmallow and @b99peraltiago! thank you, this took me seriously three hours but it was fun. 

tagging whoever has three hours to spare!! but i’d love to see @amydancepants-peralta, @letsperaltiago, @johnny-and-dora, and @fezzle do this, although no pressure because this took me the entire evening. 

1. List of works published this year

oh god this is going to take forever...

i’ll walk through hell with you, chapter 5, 6 & 7

all the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

a single kiss and i’m under your spell

paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans

dust off your highest hopes

i can’t see the future, but i know that it’s there

look now, the sky is gold

look at where we are, look at where we started

bracing for the winds i always summon

just know that i’m already home

there’s magic everywhere you go

we’ve found a love to cross the ages

all my days, i’ll know your face

hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

(three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life

if devotion is a river, then i’m floating away

when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)

evermore

i am not a stranger to the dark

in the cracks of light, i dreamed of you

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

21 works!! 

2. Work you are most proud of (and why)

I am really really proud of finishing i’ll walk through hell with you, that’s still one of the highlights in my writing “career”. bracing for the winds i always summon and (three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life, because they were both longer works with a lot of introspection that focused a lot on jake and amy’s feelings about upcoming parenthood. especially the last one I still love dearly. i’m also really proud of the fics i wrote all from rosa’s perspective (paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans and when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)).

3. Work you are least proud of (and why)

none! I guess a few of them are shorter and written way quicker than some others, but I always take that into consideration when “evaluating” how proud I am of them so no. personally, I’m proud of everything in different ways. 

4. A favourite except of your writing

referring to the creator tag meme for this where I posted excerpts from the five works I’m most proud of!

5. Share or describe a favourite review you received

questions like these remind me that I need to start saving my favorite reviews somewhere! that’s a goal for 2021, haha. but every comment that have listed their favorite moments in the fic I reread like five times over and smile every time, and all the comments people left me on the last chapter of i’ll walk through hell with you were so wonderful. and the rosa fic. and the -

you know what, I just started reading through old comments and I can’t pick one, it feels too unfair to all the other incredible ones I ’ve gotten. so. all of them!!!! I love you guys!!

I will mention this one that someone sent me in the middle of summer, during a period when I wasn’t writing or publishing so it ended up meaning that much more for that reason as well. comment on look at where we are, look at where we started (in the brief period of time when we thought peraltiago baby would be named Leo)

“Idk why, but the way Jake was talking to Leo made me wonder if my parents ever talked to me like that right after I was born. I've been told the story of my birth every birthday since I was born, so I know it by heart, but despite the countless Peraltiago baby fics and other fandom baby fics I've read, this is the one that made me wonder what my parents were thinking when I was born. And then it made me wonder what I'm gonna think when I give birth to a kid, or if I adopt a kid.” like, I was just so floored that something I wrote made someone reflect so deeply on their own life. and I want to underline that I have so so many favourite reviews but yes, this one stuck with me!

6. A time when writing was really, really hard

this summer was the hardest it’s ever been. first the (rightful) hesitance and reflection that followed the BLM protests and then some trauma and deep depression added onto that for me was… yeah. it took a really long time to find real joy in it again. 

7. A scene of characters you wrote that surprised you

Jake and Rosa’s friendship in i am not a stranger to the dark! I’ve written a bit of Rosa and Amy and feel quite comfortable with their friendship and dynamic but far less of Jake and Rosa! 

“At least this is still way better than... that.” “Literally everything is better than prison.” “True that.” Rosa looks up at the tv, realizing she’s missed at least ten minutes of the movie already. “I’m glad we got out.” “Sometimes it still feels like a part of me didn't,” Jake says, quietly. “You ever feel that way?” “Sometimes,” she admits. “We did, though. That's what's important.”

Rosa can hear someone talking in the background on the other end, and Jake mumbling something back in reply. “I have to go,” he tells her, and it makes her a little sad, because he's good company. “I can't miss dinner. Wouldn't want to piss off the entirety of my fiancées family before I’ve even married her, right?”

8. How did you grow as a writer this year?

I wrote more Rosa! that’s probably the single thing which helped me grow most, because she’s arguably a much harder character to write than Jake and Amy, since most of the time you really have no clue what she’s thinking. I have to think a lot harder about how Rosa thinks and feels and reacts to things and I feel like that makes me a better writer overall. 

9. How do you hope to grow next year?

I don’t have any big expectations tbh. I know next year is going to take so much of my energy “”professionally”” or well, study-wise, so I think it’s the wrong year to set ambitious creative writing goals for me. then there’s also the inevitable fact that I’ve written a whopping ninety-nine stories for this show now and I’m always asking myself for how long it will last. there was a point in april-may where I thought it was going to be the end and during the entire summer as well. so… we’ll see. I don’t have any WIP I’m aching to finish right now. 

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta of cheerleader or muse etc. etc.)?

@fezzle, @johnny-and-dora, @vernonfielding, @amydancepants-peralta, @feeisamarshmallow, @amazingsantiago and @letsperaltiago all deserve their own shoutouts here for various reasons!! (if you want to know more about why just message me!) 

11. Anything from real life show up in your writing this year?

always, in different ways in how I relate to the characters and different feelings and moments and experiences that would take way too long to explain. but if I could choose one fic it would be paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans. I worked through a lot of feelings about a breakup I went through in this one and they were ones I hadn’t really had the chance to let myself feel before writing this. It isn’t similar to how my breakup went, at least I didn’t mean for it to be and haven’t put any intentional similarities in there (although I guess there are a few if you look for them) but some of the things Rosa thinks, says and feels after being broken up with were quite personal. i am not a stranger to the dark and the way it focuses on healing after trauma was also partly personal although way much less obviously so because the experiences are quite different lol.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers?

make writer friends! talk to other writers! you’ll both learn so much and it makes writing and developing fics so much more fun!

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year

I currently have zero WIP and zero real plans so genuinely who knows. all depends on what my life will look like and what s8 will bring us! 

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year

all the favourite five, but maybe when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet). I think it’s a great complement to the Rosa and Amy action we saw in season 7 and it has a lot of peraltiago from someone else’s viewpoint as well. 

15. Year word count

are you kidding meeeee okay here we go.

okay, so adding everything I’ve published this year together… 111 283 words.

😳 😳 😳 

DEAR GOD.

additional trivia: the shortest fic was 651 words (evermore), the longest if you exclude the three chapters of i’ll walk through hell with you (they are 24.6k together though) (three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life, and the average word count for a fic of mine this year was 5 299 or 4 838 words, depending on whether you count the chapters of i’ll walk through hell with you as one or three works. that makes sense because i feel like i’ve written a loot of fics around that length this year! 

[ofmythsandmadness]

prompts & requests.

SO...I never meant to delay this for so long, I’m so sorry for this, but I’m excited to rejuvenate this page -- I’m quite bad with tumblr, but I just hit 350 followers and I figured I’d put in a second dime for trying to make this little account work. People seem to like my little writings (which surprises me tbh, but I appreciate the love) and I’ve gotten a lot of questions about requests, so here’s the masterpost of all that for here!

PLEASE NOTE: I don’t use Tumblr too regularly, I’m trying to be more active but because of life & stuff, I’m not always active to write. Plus, just because you request something, doesn’t mean I will automatically be able to give that! It takes time, inspiration, and often the ability to form a sentence, which weirdly I struggle with. Way too often.

ALSO! please feel free to check out the kofi link in my bio (can’t link it here bc tumblr doesn’t like links and this won’t show up at all) and buy me a coffee if you feel like it! please don’t if you can’t and i’m not trying to force, guilt or forcibly nudge anyone to do it, it’s just if you can and want to support me, that’d be real sweet. :)

WHO I WRITE FOR...most people look at this acc for tua writings, which i’ve got an abundance of! I’m quite fine with any requests of any characters, except for five (unless like it’s some aged up version of him; I don’t feel comfy writing about him and I just don’t care to). I also will write for a lot of other fandoms if you ask for them: those including marvel, stranger things (those of age, i’m not writing stories about minors), harry potter and a couple others. Just ask me, I’ll let you know if I write for the fandom & we can move from there, darling. :)

HOW TO REQUEST...I prefer not too many details in a request, just so I still feel inspired to write the piece. So, if you’re asking based on a prompt below, tell me the number(s), the character you’re looking for, and any details you feel necessary to add! Remember, nothing too specific, like don’t give me the entire plot but things like genre, atmosphere, details on the reader are okay. I usually write either genderless or female reader (I try to stick with the former to be accommodating) but you can ask for a specifically gender-neutral or female/male reader too. This also applies to fics you want garnered to a specific section of the LGBTQIA+ community (for example, if you wanted a lesbian reader with Vanya Hargreeves). I try not to add any details to appearance to the story so that everyone can enjoy the fic, but again you can ask for any specific and I will try my best to accomodate for you lovelies.

REQUEST EXAMPLE - “Can you write something with prompt number 3 and 17? Preferably with a gender-neutral reader, and with Allison Hargreeves? I’d like it to be a happy fic, please, and for the reader to not have any powers. Also, they’re a cat person! Thanks!”

Obviously, I know most people know what’s up and are respectful. But just in case you wanted an example, there you go. :)

PROMPTS LIST

(these were made by me and to my knowledge, they’re not used elsewhere, only some were taken off my last requests list. also, feel free to mix + match and ask for as many as you want)

Quote Based Prompts:

1. ‘I think I’m falling for you,’ clumsy character. 2. ‘C’mon, this is definitely safe!’ 3. ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ + ‘Why, is there something you want to tell me?’ 4. ‘Shut up about your black coffee aesthetic and try my (insert here) drink.’ 5. ‘I’m only asking for a hug because I forgot my coat and you’re like a human furnace...don’t get any ideas.’ 6. ‘Just five more minutes.’ 7. ‘And you’re sure this isn’t illegal?’ 8. ‘Wanna go get married?’ 9. ‘I love you” “don’t lie to me’ 10. ‘I hate you’ + ‘no, you don’t.’ 11. ‘let’s dance to taylor swift and forget about reality for a moment, please.’ 12. ‘why don’t you trust me?’ 13. ‘promise me, we’ll make it out of this alive.’ 14. ‘we can’t just pushing each other away and expecting things are going to change.’ 15. ‘why are you helping me?’ 16. ‘tell me a secret.’ 17. ‘you can’t friend-zone me, we’re married!’ 18. ‘is this the end?’ 19. ‘I let you win.’ 20. ‘go away’ + ‘no, not until I know you’re okay’ 21. ‘we were supposed to be forever.’ 22. ‘nothing’s fair in love and war.’ 23. ‘I want to be here for the good and the bad.’ 24. ‘So...what happened this time?’ 25. ‘I just really wanted to see you.’ 26. ‘Uh, that’s the whole point?!’ 27. ‘You cut your hair?’ + ‘I just needed a change.’ 28. ‘I can’t lose you too, dammit!’ 29. ‘Don’t lie, you’re a hopeless romantic at heart.’ 30. ‘Can we keep it?!’ 31. ‘Why can’t this happen like it does in the movies?!’ 32. ‘Can you come with me? It’s just to get gum, but I don’t want to be alone.’ 33. ‘I made muffins!’ + ‘You can bake?!’ 34. ‘I can’t sleep.’ + ‘We can share.’ 35. ‘It used to be so simple...’ 36. ‘STOP SINGING THAT SONG OR-’ + ‘-or what?’ 37. ‘I just wanted to tell you...you look really nice tonight.’ 38. ‘Ooh, show me, show me!’ 39. ‘I really wish I could paint, because you’re the perfect muse right now.’ 40. ‘Where’d you learn how to do that?’ 41. ‘Hey, it’s okay...you’re safe now.’ 42. ‘Am I in heaven?’ + ‘Aw, you think I’m your idea of heaven?’ 43. ‘I’m not crying!’ + ‘Oh, so it’s normal for your eyes to leak like that?’ 44. ‘Why wouldn’t you tell me that sooner?!’ 45. ‘What do you think of kids?’ 46. ‘Do you think I’m a good person?’ 47. ‘Don’t look down.’ + ‘You’re only telling me that now?!’ 48. ‘It’s okay...it’s going to be okay...’ 49. ‘I didn’t think it would hurt so much to do this.’ 50. ‘Nerd.’ + ‘Loser.’ 51. ‘Wait, you actually came?’ 52. ‘You didn’t notice the one bed before?!’ + ‘It didn’t say on the website!’ 53. ‘I’m in the hospital, but don’t worry--’ + ‘Don’t worry?!’ 54. ‘Yeah, I was jealous. So what?’ 55. ‘Did you know you talk when you sleep?’ 56. ‘Of course I kept it. Why wouldn’t I?’ 57. ‘I can’t get you out of my head...’ 58. ‘I made you it because I love you, duh.’ 59. ‘I trust you.’ 60. ‘How am I supposed to trust you?!’ 61. ‘You have to start getting better excuses.’ 62. ‘I think they like you!’ 63. ‘I swear if you sing baby it’s cold outside ONE MORE TIME--’ 64. ‘You’re telling me you don’t know all the words to Promiscuous? Who are you?!’ 65. ‘I only went along with it for your sake, you know I hate (insert here).’ 66. ‘Hold my hand but only so we don’t get lost. I don’t need you getting any ideas about us.’ 67. ‘Loosen up, jackass, and give in to evil a little more!’ 68. ‘You didn’t respond to any of my texts, so I assumed you were either dying or crying. I brought answers to both situations.’ 69. ‘That’s it. I’m officially convinced that you’re actually three years old.’

Situation Based Prompts: 1. Person A refuses to dress for the cold and gets sick; Person B is stuck taking care of them afterwards. 2. Person A finds a stray and wants to take it home, but Person B isn’t so interested. 3. Coffee Shop AU; Person A shows up every Saturday to work, and Person B becomes infatuated with the mysterious person. 4. Person A wants to watch a scary movie. Person B accepts, too chicken to admit they’re terrified of horror movies. 5. Person A falls asleep, and Person B plays with their hair. 6. Person A and B wake up hungover and realise that they got married last night. 7. ‘Oh...you love them’, where Person A realises that their real feelings for Person B. 8. Person A is a Christmas enthusiast, but Person B hates the holiday season. 9. (School Based Prompt); Person A doesn’t know how to talk to Person B, and decides to pretend to need help in a subject they definitely don’t need help with. 10. Person A decides to confess their feelings to Person B through a series of anonymous gifts...only they aren’t who B suspects behind it all... 11. Person A and B have a Catwoman/Batman type relationship, dancing around one another and ignoring their obvious feelings. 12. Younger!Person A and B shared their first kiss with each other -- not because of feelings, JUST to get it over with. It never meant anything, right? 13. There’s only a little bit of time left for Person A...will they make it to B, in time? 14. (Flower Shop AU) Person A comes in every day to purchase the same single flower every time, and Person B has no clue why. 15. (Villain/Hero AU) Person A goes home to find B in their bed, bleeding and fast asleep. 16. Person A has a fear of driving. Person B finally asks why. 17. (School Based AU) Person A and B get paired together to complete a project worth a lot of their grade. The only problem? They hate each other. 18. (Coffee Shop AU) Person A comes in every day with a different name and sunglasses on, ordering the same thing every time. And Person B is obsessed. 19. Person A has a hard day at work. Person B doesn’t know what they should do to help. 20. Person A finally finds out about Person B’s big secret -- only, it doesn’t come from Person B. 21. Person A is the most oblivious person in the world. Person B is slowly losing their mind over it. 22. Everyone thinks that Person A and C are meant to be together, and it’s only A and B who really, really don’t see it. 23. And they were roommates (oh my god, they were roommates...) 24. Person A’s roommate’s boyfriend is over again, and they escape to Person B’s for peace of mind. 25. Person A finds a random bag and is determined to return it to the owner -- only, all the clues she has for who the person really is, is in the contents of the bag. 26. (Party Based Prompt) Person A and B really, really didn’t want to go to the party. But maybe meeting one another makes it worth it. 27. Person A and B go laser-tagging for some stress relief. 28. There’s a Halloween party and neither A or B knows who the other is going as. But the (insert costume) standing in the corner is looking rather suspicious... 29. (Apocalypse AU) Person A and B have been struggling for months alone, and finally reach something that gives them hope.  30. Person A and B both head to the roof for some escape. They definitely didn’t expect to see someone in their special place... 31. Person A works really late shifts downtown; Person B always makes sure they’re there to give them a ride, no matter how inconvenient it is. 32. Person A forgets about changing their emergency contact, and this backfires when they end up in the hospital... 33. (Soulmate AU) In a world where people don’t age past 21 until they meet their soulmate, Person A is surprised to learn that the partner they’ve been with for four years hasn’t aged a day -- but they have. 34. (Airport AU) Everything shuts down in a last-minute snowstorm, leaving two strangers stranded. 35. (School AU) Everyone ships Teacher A and B together, and scheme to finally set them up. 36. Person A and B ride the train together every day. 37. (Doctor AU) Person A has to take Person C to the doctors. Much to both surprise, Person A falls quickly for the Doctor who comes in (Person B) -- and Person C takes it upon themselves to let B know. 38. (Neighbours AU) Person A is tired of hearing Person B being so loud so late at night -- especially when they have to get up super early. They finally decide to confront them on it. 39. (Soulmate AU) Everyone has the same cuts, bruises and scars as their soulmate, which really freaks out Person A, who becomes determined to find their soulmate to make them stop getting hurt. 40. Person A and B are hiding their relationship from everyone. They’re not very good at it. 41. Person A finally trusts Person B to meet their (insert here); the last step in their relationship. 42. Person A sends their text to the LAST person they wanted to send it to: Person B. 43. (Delivery Person AU) Person A somehow always manages to be the one to sign for the office packages...does Person B have anything to do with it? (Also, why does A keep buying so much stuff?!) 44. (Arranged Marriage) Person A is being forced into a marriage to Person C neither they or Person B wants. But B might just have a plan out... 45. (Bodyguard AU) Person A always knew that Person C was rich, but never rich enough to need a legit bodyguard. But when C’s father’s company is threatened, they call in the big dogs -- and they’re cute, too. Aka...A makes a point to catch the attention of Person B at any time possible, much to their upset. 46. (University AU) Person A needs a model. Person B needs a way to occupy their afternoon. Thus, a deal is struck. 47. Person A is a private detective hired to work the case on a mysterious murder (that strangely, Person C doesn’t want getting out). Person B is C’s lead suspect, but A can’t help but feel like they’re not the real culprit... 48. Person A drags Person B along onto a roadtrip across the country to go visit their oddball grandparents. But things go south quickly. 49. Person A gets robbed, and has no one to call when they can’t shake the nightmares but Person B. 50. Person A can manipulate time, but only by an hour. Person B doesn’t know this, but gets suspicious when they see A do something very, very weird... (you can supply more details for this one) 51. (Neighbours AU) Person A and B have the thinnest walls ever, which would suck, but they both oddly have the exact same taste in music. It’s nice; if only they got to meet. 52. (Store AU) Person A and B get locked into their work’s freezer for the night. 53. (Coffee Shop AU) Person B has never met Person A; they always miss them by only a minute. They do, however, manage to sit at the exact same table every day and pick up the piece of art they leave for the next customer. 54. Person A has loved Person B their entire life. Too bad they’ll never get to tell them. 55. (Diner AU) Person A meets Person B at three in the morning when they stumble in soaked. They’re surprised, when they show up again...and again...at the exact same time. 56. (5+1) Five times Person A told Person B they loved them, and the one time Person B finally said it back. 57. (5+1) The five times Person A surprises Person B, and the one time Person B surprises A. 58. (5+1) The five times Person A broke Person B’s heart, and the one time they didn’t.  59. (5+1) The five times Person A saved Person B...and the one time Person B couldn’t save A. 60. (5+1) The five times A and B almost meet, and the first time they finally do. 61. (5+1) The five times Person A lies to Person B, and the one time they finally tell the truth. 62. Person B is like, super allergic to dogs. But Person A doesn’t need to know that. 63. Person A has no clue how to tell Person B how they feel. So, they make a playlist. 64. Person A and B accidentally switch luggage at the airport.

Happy requesting, darlings.

[angelofthequeers]

Not a Good Look: Chapter 7

@thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @lady-charinette @elmokingkong tagged as requested :)

Chapter 6 | AO3 link

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Thanks to everyone who’s enjoyed this fic! It was just a little something I had to get out because of this whole quarantine crap…and then I misplaced my brain cell and picked my presentation topics with the same due week as my essays, so this was a welcome break from four assessments at once.

Because I got a few queries about Gabriel hearing the conversation after he was Venomed and realising that Adrien is Chat: considering that the driver in 'Queen Wasp' was delirious and didn't know what the heck was going on, I see Venom as freezing all the senses and basically making you black out. So no, he doesn't have a clue what happened after he was Venomed.

Also, you'll notice that I don't actually mention Emilie at all. That's because the investigation's still ongoing and they'd have to know to look behind the painting, let alone the combination to it, and they won't have that without Gabriel telling them or without some good tech if they did suspect it in the first place. Unlike in 'Hold Me', it's only been a few days since the takedown, not a few weeks, and Adrien doesn't have the knowledge about Emilie and the secret lair here that he did in 'Hold Me' when Gabriel physically showed him, so he can't go and tell any of the authorities. Just figured I'd throw that in before people start asking XD

“I can’t believe it!” Alya throws her hands up and almost steps onto the road in front of a speeding car, which honks furiously at her as it passes. “All that evidence against Lila and you’re not letting me air it?”

“Hawkmoth is fair game,” Marinette says. “And they’ll probably use the footage in court to prove that he was grooming an underage girl. But if you air that footage, you’re giving her a free ticket out. She’ll have solid proof that she was being manipulated by Mr Agreste. And honestly…Adrien’s right. Sure, we can expose her over the internet, but what then? It follows her everywhere she goes. She’s got no chance of ever growing past this evil, self-absorbed phase that she’s in because it’ll haunt her for the rest of her life.”

“That’s surprisingly mature for someone whose life was almost ruined by said phase,” Alya mutters.

“You think I’m happy about this?” Marinette says. “I want nothing more than to throw all her lies in her face and cackle like a witch about it. But I don’t want to sink to that kind of person. Being her for five minutes, even though it was an illusion…it made me pity her. She’ll do anything for her fifteen minutes of fame, even if she has to make deals with creepy old men who try to intimidate her, and she’ll squash anyone who gets in her way. And honestly? That’s just sad. I’m the one with true friends. I’m the one who’ll still be standing when the dust settles. Not her. I told her I had faith in my friends and look where we ended up.”

Alya reaches over and rests the back of her hand on Marinette’s forehead. “Are you sure we got the Butterfly and Peacock on Wednesday night?” she says. “You sure there’s not an akuma that’s making you say this stuff? Or that you’re not a sentimonster?”

“Oh, ha, ha,” Marinette says, rolling her eyes. “And besides, the police may or may not have told Ladybug that they were arresting Lila yesterday for colluding with a terrorist, since there’s enough doubt in the footage of me as her to at least claim that she had a clue that he was Hawkmoth. And even though she’ll most likely wriggle her way out of it because that proof’s not a hundred percent solid, at least she won’t be playing everyone like a puppet anymore. There’ll be just enough doubt that they’ll start to question her and then her lies will just…fall. And it’ll kill her more to have no attention than to even have bad attention.”

Alya blinks at her. “No, seriously, who are you and what have you done with Marinette? I know there’s no way you’d come up with that all by yourself.”

“Okay, fine!” Marinette crosses her arms. “Tikki talked me down from going ballistic last night, and Adrien, Kagami, and I had a good talk about what to do about her.”

“I knew it!” Alya says, jabbing Marinette in the chest. “That’s way more complex than your single brain cell can handle!”

“Excuse me?” Marinette splutters. “How dare you? I’m the saviour of Paris! You have my posters in your room!”

“And I’m also your best friend, so I’m allowed to ruthlessly roast you,” Alya says smugly. “Too bad, so sad.”

Sure enough, as Marinette had predicted, Lila’s at school today and is holding court in the classroom, strategically sobbing into her hands when Marinette and Alya enter the room.

“Oh, Marinette! Alya! I’m so glad you’re here!” Lila cries. “Marinette, I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done to you! I never wanted to hurt you but, well, Mr Agreste took advantage of my lying disorder and our natural rivalry and he – he –” She sniffles and blows her nose, and Marinette resists the incredibly strong urge to roll her eyes at the theatrics. “He manipulated me! He promised me modelling contracts and favours and that I could spend time with Adrien, since I had a crush on him, and – and oh my gosh, I feel so dirty!”

“It’s okay, Lila,” Rose says soothingly, patting her on the back. “He took advantage of you. It’s nothing to be ashamed of!”

“I always knew that Mr Agreste was a dirty old man,” Alix growls. “On top of being a shitty father and a supervillain!”

“I mean, we were all used by him as akumas,” Chloé scoffs, delicately touching up her mascara in her compact mirror. “You’re nothing special, Rossi. And Adrikins is staying at my hotel now, so which of us ended up winning, hmm?”

“Well, we might never be friends, but I forgive you for everything you’ve done,” Marinette says as everyone glares at Chloé. Kind of rich of Chloé to say that, considering what she’d done as Miracle Queen, but no one actually remembers that, so…oh well. “And I’m…sorry for the way I treated you. I should have believed you about your disabilities even if you didn’t have that lying disorder.”

As much as it pains her to do so, this apology is necessary. As Tikki and Adrien had pointed out, their classmates had in fact been in the right to believe Lila about her disabilities instead of forcing her to prove every little thing, and Marinette had wilted when Tikki had asked her to remember how she’s felt whenever anyone’s doubted her claim of being autistic because she “seems normal enough” and demanded that she provide evidence. But Marinette’s not apologising for or excusing Lila’s evil manipulations and every other lie of hers, especially the ones that got her expelled, and Tikki and Adrien had thankfully taken her side on that point.

“Oh, of course I forgive you!” Lila says dramatically. “And I agree! Even if we never end up being friends, I’d much rather be on friendly terms than unfriendly!”

“So, what happens now?” Sabrina says. “My father told me that you were arrested yesterday!”

Lila’s face falls. “Oh, yes, they had to arrest me for colluding with a terrorist, but it’s all a formality and I’m sure to be let off in the trial! Especially since their only evidence is some footage of me talking to Mr Agreste that’s clearly doctored, since I’ve got an airtight alibi, and Alya’s interview of me that she had to get as more evidence against him! Ladybug had to summon an illusion of me to trick Mr Agreste into confessing, of course, and I was so scared that he would take it out on me if our plan failed, but I’m fully prepared to give media statements, even if Ladybug can’t confirm or deny that we were working together for my safety…”

Marinette’s eye twitches as Lila spins some tale about the grand plan that she’d been part of to take down Gabriel Agreste. But, to her surprise, their classmates aren’t falling over themselves to ooh and ahh at her story. They’re not calling her out, of course, but they’re just…losing interest the longer she talks about herself. Huh. That’s never happened before.

“What’s going on?” Marinette turns to whisper to Ivan. “You don’t believe her?”

Ivan shrugs. “She’s got a lying disorder. She can’t help it. Not gonna be mean for something she can’t help but…yeah, I don’t believe Ladybug would use a civilian like that.”

“I pity her, honestly,” Nathaniel pipes up from behind Ivan. “But I’m also kind of wondering what else she’s lied about, especially if Mr Agreste made her. Even if she wasn’t doing it to screw us over…she was still lying to us.”

Marinette could sing to the heavens. Finally, someone’s using their brain! It might not be immediate, but Lila’s downfall is just around the corner, and honestly? Marinette had been telling the truth earlier; all she can feel right now is pity for when Lila’s eventually left alone, surrounded by nothing but her lies as her empire crumbles around her. And honestly, maybe fading into obscurity like that is a worse punishment for Lila than being targeted and called out, since that would still be giving her the attention that she craves. But this? This is nothing.

Although Marinette keeps an absent eye on the door for Adrien’s entrance, she’s not expecting to see him, since she already knows that he’s not coming to school today as well. Not that she can blame him, really, after the whole “Hawkmoth exposed” thing that Alya had posted on the Ladyblog that’s generated so much traffic that poor Alya can’t even check up on it since it keeps crashing (much to her gleeful annoyance). Marinette doesn’t think that anyone will accuse him of being in league with Hawkmoth but, well, it’s inevitable that there’ll be some dicks who pull the whole “like father, like son” crap, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to expose himself to that.

However, that doesn’t stop her from making a beeline for Le Grand Paris after school, where Adrien and his bodyguard are staying temporarily since the mansion’s now considered a crime scene. It’s so…weird. Hawkmoth and Mayura have been taken down and Adrien’s life has been utterly turned on its head and shaken some more, yet the sun still casts its weak rays down on Marinette’s back. The pigeons still coo and rustle their wings, with Mr Ramier no doubt nearby. The cars still zoom past, leaving acrid trails in their wake. The world just…keeps on keeping on, with no regard to the massive shock that’s turned people’s lives upside-down. All these people – these animals – they won’t know, they won’t care, what she and her friends have had to go through, being used like pawns in a chess game and giving up so much for the greater good, in ways that will stay with them forever –

“Marinette!” Warm hands grab her by the shoulders and a pair of brown eyes root her to the spot, grounding her so that she doesn’t float away from everything that’s currently assaulting her brain. She lets out a shuddering gasp and slumps forward, allowing the person to fully embrace her, and she buries her nose in the damp skin of their neck and inhales sweat and sharp deodorant, along with the faintest traces of what smells like some kind of incense.

“Kagami,” she croaks and digs her fingers into the back of Kagami’s blazer. “Why? What did Adrien do to deserve this? What did we do to deserve this? Lila – Mr Agreste – am I really that bad that they teamed up to break me –”

“What they did to you isn’t a punishment for anything,” Kagami says, firm but soft at the same time. “They colluded like that because they’re awful people.”

“But the way I treated you and – and stalked Adrien – I stole his phone, I followed him around, I tried to sabotage you with Chloé at the movie event because I was jealous – it’s been bothering me but I didn’t – it didn’t hit – not until now, when I realised how Mr Agreste and Lila treated him like – like a toy –”

“Marinette –”

“Why do you even like me? Why does Adrien like me? He said I’m good but I’m not. I’ve done bad things and it’s like – everyone acts like me being Ladybug makes me a saint but I’m not, I’m just a teenage girl and I can’t cope, I can’t do this –”

“Yes, you can.” Kagami undoes Marinette’s pigtails so that she can run her fingers through Marinette’s hair, stroking it in a rhythmic pattern that hypnotises Marinette into a blurry trance. “Hawkmoth and Mayura are dealt with. I’m here to talk to Adrien, just as you are, and we’ll figure it out, okay? We always will. And I can’t say that I haven’t acted jealously before either, because I definitely clung to Adrien to make a point to you and Chloé at the movie premiere, so you’re not a bad person just because you did a few bad things. And your flaws don’t mean that Adrien was lying when he said that you’re a brilliant girl. I wouldn’t have feelings for you if you were anything less than extraordinary. Why do you think I like Adrien?”

“God – I’m a mess –”

“It’s okay. I moved us to an alleyway, so no one will see. And now that there aren’t any more akumas, you deserve this, Marinette. It’s okay.”

Dimly, Marinette registers her legs caving underneath her as she sobs into Kagami’s shoulder and clutches fistfuls of the other girl’s blazer, finally exorcising everything she’s had to keep bottled up for fear of akumatisation, because Kagami’s right: now that there aren’t any akumas, there’s no threat for expressing her emotions, and it’s so good to be able to just break down like this, rather than having to suppress everything and paste on a smile for the greater good. She almost jumps out of her skin when someone leans against her back and wraps their arms around her from behind, but then she gets a whiff of their musky, earthy smell and she melts into their embrace because it’s Adrien; it’s her kitty, and he’ll always be there for her no matter what.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said she was a mess,” Adrien murmurs, his voice distorted as though they’re underwater. “What brought it on?”

“I don’t know what triggered it, but I believe the underlying cause is not being able to express any of this with Hawkmoth around. She just…exploded.”

The voices turn to a dull buzz after that as Marinette gasps in air and her tears finally start to die down. The next time she’s able to discern individual words, it’s Adrien talking to her as she finally stops crying and just slumps against Kagami with her eyes closed and her limbs like lead weights.

“It’s okay, Marinette,” he’s saying. “I forgive you for stealing my phone and following me and Lila home and everything else. And Kagami forgives you for trying to embarrass her.”

“But why?” Marinette croaks. “It’s not normal. I’m not normal. Why don’t you h-hate me? I’m a creep.”

“After what Hawkmoth and Lila did, you still think you’re a creep?” Adrien says. He gently pulls her back, detaching her from Kagami, and he pulls her into his lap and tangles his fingers in her hair, his warm breath ghosting across the top of her head. Through her blurry eyes, Marinette sees Kagami snuggling up to Adrien’s side and pulling Marinette’s legs into her lap while she rests her head on Adrien’s shoulder. “I said I forgive you, bugaboo, not that you didn’t do anything wrong. So, you know, that means that I know you messed up and I’m okay with it. It’s not like I’ve never made mistakes either.”

Somehow, it’s the admission that yeah, she’d screwed up, but he forgives her for it, that manages to calm Marinette down the rest of the way; if he’d tried to excuse her actions and brush them off as her never doing anything wrong, that probably would’ve just brought on a fresh emotional meltdown. She sags against Adrien and closes her eyes, allowing the last of her meltdown to seep out of her and into the world around them, and when Kagami shifts under her legs, she acts purely on instinct and wraps her legs around Kagami to pull her closer.

“Looks like Ladybug never skipped leg day,” Adrien says when Marinette pulls Kagami to lean back against her. Although Marinette can’t see him, she just knows that he’s wearing that shit-eating grin that Chat Noir always has, so she punishes him by elbowing him gently in the gut. “Meowch!”

“So, I’m guessing this means we’re…a thing?” Marinette says. Her voice cracks halfway through her sentence, like she’s a teenage boy in the middle of puberty, but thankfully, neither person around her calls her out on it.

“I’m happy with that if we take it slow and don’t jump straight into the deep end,” Adrien says. “It’s pretty lonely in the hotel, but hopefully Gorilla or Nino’s mother gets custody of me soon. I don’t know who they’re leaning towards. And after what just happened…well, if both of you want to give me kitty cuddles, I won’t say no. And, uh…I have to confess. One of the times I messed up as Aspik was because I…couldn’t stop staring at Multimouse’s butt. So, uh, I think that beats out any creepy things you’ve done.”

The shock of hearing Adrien confess to looking at her butt like he’s a little kitten confessing to being naughty jolts a laugh out of Marinette, and then she’s sagging against Adrien in a fit of piercing laughter as tears roll down her face. Alya had been right the other night. What the hell is wrong with them? How did they end up in a two-person love square that turned into a tangled polygon when Kagami had entered the room?

“Then it’s official.” Kagami laces her fingers with a hysterical Marinette’s and rests their hands on her stomach. “I have a tentative boyfriend and a girlfriend. But Adrien has a moral obligation to punch anyone who makes any disgusting remarks about him having “two girls”.”

“You act like I wasn’t gonna do that anyway,” Adrien grumbles. “I’ll also throw in an additional punch if they ask you two to make out with each other.”

“Our hero,” Marinette tries to say dryly, but the effect is ruined when she chokes it out in the middle of the hiccups of her dying laughter. “Whatever would we do without you?”

“Well, your life would be –”

“No, wait, don’t finish that sentence. I know you’ll make a pun out of it somehow and then I’ll be forced to punch you for it.”

“Aww,” Adrien whines, while Kagami snorts. “But that’s half my charm!”

“Getting punched? I agree,” Kagami says innocently. Adrien whines again and Marinette can’t help but laugh again and realise that, while navigating the territory of having two partners at the same time won’t be easy, the extra support is probably exactly what she needs right now. With her two partners and her two best friends by her side, there’s nothing the five of them can’t do; especially with no more supervillain terrorising Paris and no more attention-seeking teenage girl trying to ruin everyone else’s lives.

It really hadn’t been a good look for either of them after all.

[wolf-with-a-pen]

Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door Part 4

TW: Lots of Swearing, Unreality, Kidnap, It Gets Really Dirty At One Point

Previous, Masterpost, Next

Sorry it is a week late, I should be able to write more now that I don't have to go out for just under 7 hours a day by law. If you want me to mention you when I post, ask, if you want me to tag something or add another trigger, also ask.

Enjoy!

Word Count:3975

EDWARD HAD NO CLUE WHERE THEY WERE. All they knew was it was within an hour of the flat, and that they weren’t there by choice. What’s going on you might ask me? Why are they there? Well, in order to tell you that, I have to go back to just after they arrived back at home, around 8 hours before.

Edward had spent the last half an hour trying to adjust their room to be exactly how they wanted it, however, they were failing dismally. Despite the lack of actual stuff to put in the room, they physically could not find something that felt right enough and a way that the room felt like home. Probably just because of the aftermath of being forced out of their home literally less than 24 hours before, but still, they tried everything and just gradually made a bigger and bigger mess of the place, eventually just stopping to look at what they’d done and realising they couldn’t see half of the stuff. It was at this point they decided to stop. Grabbing the few things they’d need urgently, they managed to find a way to the single bed in the corner of the room looking out at it. To their right lay the white door, and in front of them was the single window. To the left of the window was a bookshelf with stuff strewn over it and on the opposite side was a desk and chair. Next to them was a small chest of draws that they stored the few things they grabbed in, before laying down and trying not to think. It was at this point the welcome distraction of Isi knocked on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure, could use a distraction.”

“Why?” it asked, gently pushing open the door. “Oh…it looks like you’ve dropped a bomb in here.”

“Yeah. It does, doesn’t it?”

“You want some help after what I came here for?”

“Please.”

“Ok, now, what did you think of Vanny?”

“Why?”

“Just want to know.”

“Okay. Not how I was expecting, but in a good way.”

“Why, what were you expecting?”

“Heavily opinionated, extrovert. Can’t really explain it more than that.”

“It’s cause of Biff right?”

“Probably. Still thought she’d be an extrovert though, even without Biff.”

“Cool. And how is Vanny different to how you were expecting?”

“She’s pretty quiet, to the point, and honestly she seems cool to me.”

“Cool. That’s good. Now then, how about this room?”

It was another half an hour later when Vanny called them for their sleepover, and honestly, it looked worse than when it started. Somehow, despite it already being war zone, Isi turned it into a nuclear bomb site. You could not see any of the surfaces. But Edward did not care that much- all they knew was they had fun with a friend. And in the process made more work for themselves, but, oh well, they wouldn’t need their bedroom tonight, and they could probably sort it out tomorrow. Quickly they slipped on some comfortable clothes, before emerging to find Isi in the most laid-back clothes they had seen them in and Vanny somehow looking less laid-back than normal. “Come on in Edward and sit down. We’re planning on starting with movies and pizza, before moving onto games. Any requests?” Vanny inquired, beckoning them closer.

“No, thank you,” replied Edward, gently sitting down on the floor, taking a few of the cushions off of the pile to sit on.

“Ok, well we’re starting with Lilo and Stich, then Coraline and finally RED. You ok with all of those?”

“Sure.”

“Ok, good, shall we get started?”

It was half an hour later that the silence was broken. Edward had spent the time either sat on the arm of a chair, or on the cushion on the floor, while Vanny and Isi were cuddled up on one end of the sofa. Surprisingly, Edward was the one that broke the silence. It took them a quarter of an hour to get the confidence to ask. “Should we build a pillow fort?”

“Yes, I haven’t built one since I was a kid!” Vanny exclaimed in approval.

“Why did you think we brought all of the blankets out? If we order pizza, by the time we’ve built it, it’ll be here.” Isi inputted

“Thank, you, that sounds good.” Edward replied

“Of course, and don’t worry too much. This will be the best pillow fort ever.” Isi, replied realising that it was probably with Ansel that they last built one.

“Yeah, it will.” Vanny confidently added.

If you already guessed from the fact that with more than one person, all they did was create a bigger mess, you can imagine what the room looked like. I mean, what did you expect? I mean, they managed kind of a pillow fort. There were walls and a roof and pillows on the floor, but the rest of the room that they couldn’t see looked like someone dropped a bunch of pillows on the building, and if they even tried to leave, half of it would fall down, but they had fun and managed something. That was all that mattered. The pizzas had arrived before they blocked themselves in and they had grabbed as many drinks and sweets as possible to stock the fort with. By this point they were all laying on the floor. “So, what should we do next?”

“Truth or dare?” Vanny asked.

“Really?” Isi groaned.

“Come on, it would be a good idea to get to know each other. You down Edward?”

“Fine,” Isi sighed

“Sure,” they answered.

They had all just about managed to drag out three rounds of truth or dare, and it had landed on Edward. All of them were running out so they were expecting them to just pass their round to the others. “Both of you, truth or dare?”

They looked at each other, kinda worried. “Truth,” they replied, almost in unison.

“How did you meet?” They inquired, not realising what they had got into, while Vanny and Isi were both stuck remembering how they did meet.

It was 10 years ago that they first met, aged 16, though not in the best circumstances. For both of them everything seemed to be going wrong that day, literally everything. Big and small. But still, they regarded it as one of their better days- just because they found each other. [A/N: will be writing a short dedicated to this later]

However during this flashback, they left Edward alone in a sense- both were zoned out looking into the distance, and after a while, they began to worry about them. It’s not every day you see your friends just completely go unresponsive while still being awake. Kinda creeped them out. So, they decided to wait it out in their room, where they couldn’t see the creepy half-dead look the others were giving everything. But they had forgotten the fact it was a chaotic mess, despite everyone’s best efforts to clean up. Not even they knew how it wasn’t better. So, they grabbed a few things off their bedside table that they might urgently need and shoved them in their backpack, slinging it on their shoulder and entering the kitchen, grabbing the pen and piece of paper they saw when they entered. Once they had done this, they grabbed a second piece of paper, wrote a note for when the two woke up, picking up a set of keys and leaving, quietly and carefully through the front door.

You see, Edward did not know the city. That they’d already established, from the fact that Isi was practically leading them around by tugging on their sleeve. Yeah, they didn’t particularly like that, knowing that they would be useless if the Guardians arrived and they had to leave quickly. So, they had decided to create a map of the surrounding area, noting the landmarks along the way. Hopefully they wouldn’t get lost. If they did they’d have to talk to people, but oh well. It would make them feel better they decided, as they noted down the number flat and the name of the flat block as a dot in the centre of the paper. As they walked down to the ground floor of the block, they realised how late it was- you could barely see the sun, and light was quickly fading beyond the horizon. Unfortunately, this meant it wasn’t as safe as first predicted. Thankfully, angels don’t get hurt unless a guardian or demon does it.

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice called out. “I couldn’t help but notice you came out of Vanny’s place, and I was wondering if she was ok, I haven’t seen her in a while.” Turning on their heels, they looked for the source of the voice, finding it to be an older looking woman, on the second floor of the building.

“Hello, yes I did come from Vanny’s, currently me and my friend are staying with her,” Edward replied as calm as they could manage, trying not to let slip that said friend was most likely known to be dead.

“So, she’s finally letting people in, that’s good. She’s been so lonely since Isi died, all of us were worried about her. Look after her for me will you?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. What is your name?”

“I am Edward. And you?”

“Margret, Margret Grey. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“I’d better go, see you around.”

“See you.” They replied, watching as she picked up a newspaper of the floor, before disappearing into a flat. Number 25. They made a mental note of it, in case they ever needed any help. The conversation went better than they were expecting. Almost too well. They turned on their heel, leaving through which ever path they believed would be the best, making a note of every junction and landmark along the way, keeping an eye on the rapidly fading light.

It was only an hour later that Edward realised how stupid an idea they had. First, it was now dark. Very dark. Almost pitch black. Second, they had chosen the wrong path. Somehow they ended up in an alleyway, somewhere. It looked vaguely threatening, with the graffiti and sense of someone watching you. Plus, the little canisters of who knows what were coating the floor. All they knew is it was probably a drug, and likely not a legal one at that. Never a brilliant sign. And finally, they had no clue where they were. Unsurprisingly, their map was practically useless, and just a jumble of lines. Literally, it looked like someone had grabbed a piece of paper and randomly squiggled on it. Almost certainly, they were regretting their choice. And the lack of forethought to check they had their phone on them. “Just wander around until you find a main road,” they thought, “What could possibly go wrong?” They didn’t bother answering that. They knew something would.

As you know, it was 8 hours after they got home. At least, as far as they knew. Who knew how reliable the weird people’s word was? They remembered that decision, and nothing else. It was as if they passed out then. I mean, they knew they had passed out at some point, but it wasn’t right there in that alley was it? They strained trying to remember what had happened, and was severely failing. Then they checked the rope tied around them. Solid- no way out. As far as they knew they would be trapped there forever. This increasingly depressing train of thought was disturbed by the sounds of the person returning, not that they could see who had taken them, not with the lights off. The only thing they could tell was that they were under another floor, and that the floor was concrete. That was it. The mysterious voice of the person holding them hostage startled them from this tangent.

“Hello Edward. You’re probably wondering what you are doing here. Well, you’ll never know. So, stay here for a while. Not that you can leave. Anyway, you just have to stay here until our friend comes back, then you might be able to go. OK?”

Edward nodded, confused as the kidnapper removed the gag they had placed on them. They got a small idea, one that would be unwise, but it worked in Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, why wouldn’t it work in real life as well?

Above them, Salami was sat. Yep, the three of them had kidnapped them. Despite telling Satan they wouldn’t interact. I mean, what did he expect? You can’t tell someone not to do something and expect them to not then do it. Especially the three who were unfazed with breaking his rules, and who he didn’t mind breaking the rules because they usually managed to complete the job. They had no clue how they found them so quickly- what was the chances that they would stumble into the road leading straight to their house, and that they would be so easy to just take. That was the only reason they realised how much help Isi and Edward would need. If they could barely defend themselves, how did they expect to take over heaven? So, they interfered. Eventually, Sal decided to go check on the two, finding them locked in combat. They were at opposite each other, and so, they pulled up a chair next to Sprite.

“Are you that interested in me that you want me to stay?”

“Fuck you.”

“Why don’t you darling?~”

“Why don’t you shut your pretty mouth?”

“Why don’t you do it for me?”

“You know, you’re pretty handsome for a bastard.”

“Aww, you think I’m handsome?”

“No, bitch. Go fuck yourself.”

“Why don’t you fuck me instead?”

“What’s up?” asked Sal, raising their eyebrows.

“I don’t know, wanna see?” Edward quickly replied, with no idea how they managed to keep it up for this long.

“No thank you, why would I want to see a matchstick?”

“It may be a matchstick, but I sure know how to show you a good time.” Edward lied. They really didn’t.

“Who says you’d be the one showing the other a good time? By the end of the night, you would be a blubbering mess.”

“Don’t be so sure, you look like you wouldn’t hold up that long.”

“Looks are deceptive dear, just like you looking like you would be unable to flirt. And like a virgin.”

“As you said, looks are deceptive.”

“h, but I can tell, the second part is true. Honestly, I’m surprised you aren’t a slut.”

“And I’m surprised you’re able to talk. I thought I would have broken you by now.”

“Try harder then.”

“Oh, I certainly can if you want me to.”

“Yeah right, you look 5 seconds away from being shattered.”

“You’re the only ones who will end up shattered. Don’t think I didn’t notice you watching us, person 1.”

“Well, I couldn’t miss that conversation, if it goes any further, I might have to gag you.”

“Kinky.”

“I’m done now, let’s go back upstairs.”

“Don’t be too loud now, the walls are thin.”

“Yeah right, as if you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Oh, I would, but the neighbours wouldn’t, I’m sure.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, but we’re having so much fun.”

“You might, asshole.”

“So, you’re denying the truth now are you? Why would you stay if you weren’t enjoying yourself?”

“To break you. Let’s go.” Sprite answered turning on their heels.

“God that was exhausting. And impossible to end.” Sal stated, not thinking that Edward would hear him.

“It would be even more tiring if I did what I wanted to you, and it wouldn’t have to end if you didn’t want it to.”

“Dream on, whore.” He said closing the door on themselves.

“Wow, that went better than I expected,” Edward thought, “I kept up for who knows how long.” Then they sat and waited, falling back asleep pretty quickly.

Meanwhile, Isi and Vanny were panicking. I mean, who wouldn’t? It was about half an hour after Edward left that they snapped out of whatever trance they were in, and realised that they were gone. Both took a few minutes to realise what had happened, and after looking at a clock realised they had left Edward alone for way too long. Vanny was the one who saw the note, calming Isi who had ran around the flat looking for them worried that they had been kidnapped or worse, taken back to heaven. That didn’t fully tell them that they were Ok, and the fact they didn’t take their phone- it couldn’t help but worry. Not after everything. Eventually they had managed to get to sleep, reassuring themselves that they would turn up in the morning, but it was to no avail-while Edward was happily flirting with their captors, it had realised they were not coming home anytime soon. Something odd for the size of the city. But it knew it couldn’t do anything so it stayed where it was.

It was half an hour later that Edward woke back up, and even then, only because the door had slammed. Muffled above they heard 3 voices. The two from earlier, and a third, deeper voice. An unfamiliar one, yet it still felt as though they had heard it before. Straining, they listened in. “I couldn’t find them anywhere. This is going to be hopeless isn’t it?”

“We found them, they’re in the basement. I will warn you their flirting is on par with yours.”

“Thanks darlings. I’ll check them out later. Any other news?”

“Not beyond finding a map with only one legible location written down, that must be their place.”

“Perfect. We can check that out later, if we can’t get them to work with us.”

“OK.”

“I’ll go down then, since there is nothing else to do.”

“Good luck, you’ll need it.”

They heard the door gently click, and watched the person descend down the stair they could now just about make out from the time they had to let their eyes adjust to the gloom. The room was mostly empty, except for the shelves they could see out of the corner of their eye with what seemed to be some sort of weaponry on it. They hoped they wouldn’t use it on them.

“Hello, Edward. Might I say, you look so much more handsome in person than from your photo.”

“Thank you. How did you get my photo?” They asked, knowing they wouldn’t reveal it, but hoping to disarm them slightly.

“My sources shall stay unknown. The reason I’m here is to ask for you to join us darling. You’d be a fool not to.”

“Why should I join you? I haven’t seen any of you yet and how am I supposed to trust a kidnapper?”

“We are not going to keep you forever, the second we have your answer you are free to leave, but I recommend you don’t be rash. We have something you want. You have something we want.”

“So, you are suggesting an alliance? What is it that you want from me?”

“You and your little friend Isi on our side, helping us.”

“And what would I get in return?”

“Protection, information, and help with your so called “revolution” of 2 people against all of the angels. I know you are looking for help. But are you willing to accept it?”

They pondered the kidnapper’s offer. It did sound good. They needed help, and protection would be good as well. The information they could give would probably be priceless. However, were they really meant to trust a faceless person who could easily stab them in the back? They didn’t know.

“I will consider it, but only if I can know who you three are and why are interested in me and Isi.”

“Alright. My name is Riley, he/him. I will untie you. All of the windows and doors are locked and we know where you live. You will not be able to escape.”

“Ok.” Edward replied.

“Now then, no running or shifty business. I wouldn’t want to have to ruin that pretty face of yours,” he said warningly as he gradually untied the mass of knots holding them to the chair. Gradually he became more and more frustrated, as the knots simply wouldn’t come undone. At all. You couldn’t even cut it- it was all tied together. “Who the fuck tied these knots?” he shouted upstairs. Both of the people wandered downstairs to watch him fail at untying them. “We did,” one of them replied. “You going to help?”

“No, I think you’re doing fine on your own.”

For Edward and Riley it went painfully slowly, but you could tell the other two were enjoying themselves at their pain. It felt like hours later that he had managed to get them untied. Mainly because it was- it took him around an hour and a half just to get them loose.

“So, can I meet all of you properly now?”

“Why?”

“Go along with it, they said they’d consider joining us if we showed them who we are and why we wanted them.”

“Alright. I’m Salami, but call me Sal, I’m a he/they,” said the second person.

“Fine, I’m Sprite,” the first begrudgingly revealed.

“Thank you. Now why do you want me and Isi?”

“We are all demons, well except Sprite, they’re a half demon, half angel. And our Boss heard of your escape, and finds you interesting. He wants us to help you, and in return you give him information. You see, we all want rid of the Guardians- all except the worker sheep that you call angels. You used to be part of them my dear, but you managed to break out of that way of thinking and heaven. That’s rare.”

“Ok. So, because we have insider information, you want me to help you.”

“Yes.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

“You’d be a fool not to, but I would be unable to stop you. But remember we know where you live, and if our leader gives us the order we will kidnap both of you and force you to co-operate.”

“Ok, I’ll work with you, but only because there is currently no other option.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, can I go home, the others will be worried, since I’ve been gone a while.”

“And how do you expect to get home when you were already lost?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll take you home, my damsel.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, thank you.”

Half an hour later they arrived home, waving Riley off. Most of the journey was a flirting battle between the two of them, and it only ended when Riley had their number. Somehow they had already managed to memorise it. Before long, they were back inside the flat, being confronted by a worried Vanny and Isi.

“Are you ok?”

“What happened?”

“Why were you gone so long?���

“Just, don’t ask, you don’t want to know. I made some allies though. 2 demons and a half demon half angel.”

“Ok. Wait, was one of them called Sprite?”

“Yes, why?”

“Not brilliant but ok.”

“Why?”

“They work for Satan, and not just in a sense that they are down the command chain form him, they are his personal group of investigators and only really work on secret important stuff. This means Satan not only knows we’re here, but is interested in us. That could be good or bad, but we will have to wait and see. What did they ask you?”

“If I would help them in return for them helping us.”

“Did you accept?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see their faces?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Good. Now, shall we continue where we left off yesterday?”

“Yes please.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 249: Todoroki Taco Night

Previously on BnHA: Nothing happened at all, because the manga was on break last week! Fortunately the anime had finally resumed after a billion years (estimation; exact length of time may be slightly off), so we had that to take the edge off in the meantime. Except we didn’t, because the anime also ended up going on break due to a rugby game or some shit. So that was nice. On a related note, when I die I’d like the Basement arc to lower me into my grave, so it can let me down one last time.

Anyway, Endeavor did some mentoring and gave Shouto and Kacchan a power-up assignment and told Deku to work on Air Force to help him master the fine control he needs for the Bloop. Then Fuyu called a week later and was all “HEY DAD, DINNER, OUR PLACE, TONIGHT, BRING THE KIDS.” And then as previously mentioned, we waited two whole fucking weeks and MY GOD, my body is ready, on to the new chapter we go!

Today on BnHA: Shouto, Katsuki, and Deku are cordially invited to Todosmith Farms for an evening of food and fun! They make it approximately six minutes into dinner before Natsu loses it and exits with more theatrics than a spurned reality TV show contestant. Baku and Deku spend the next hour being all “!!!” at each other back and forth, and whispering about how fucking dramatic the Todorokis are, which fully kills me and is my favorite thing ever to happen in the world. Deku then begins to guide Shouto through his personal healing process like fucking Mufasa booming at Simba from the heavens, and meanwhile Endeavor listens in while quietly kneeling before HIS DEAD SON’S PHOTOGRAPH, IN THE SHRINE THEY BUILT FOR SAID DEAD SON IN HIS BEDROOM, and sorrowfully wishing he could do more for his family. Anyways so I’m in ruins now, but otherwise fine. How are you?

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

well it’s Thursday morning, and I have just seen the picture of baby white-haired Touya because no one in this fandom knows how to fucking spoiler tag (and that’s on me too for browsing the BnHA tag on a Thursday; I know better, but I was just curious how this new group chat thing was working out), so here are my immediate thoughts

we never actually confirmed that the hair color correlates to their powers, huh. we just assumed. but come to think, there’s no reason why someone couldn’t have mom’s hair but dad’s quirk. it’s all Shouto’s fault for being a perfect 50/50 split and thus making everyone assume that THAT’S JUST HOW IT WORKS. damn you Shouto and your dramatic character design

anyways I tried not to look at the pic for too long -- once I realized what I was looking at, I averted my eyes -- but he does look like Dabi, I think. oh shit guys. it’s really fucking happening

and I also didn’t get a good enough look to determine whether this was a photo of Touya (that Deku or whoever happened to spot while visiting the Todochester Mystery House for the much-hyped dinner) or a flashback image (in which he is just standing really fucking still for some reason and staring directly at the camera), so I guess we’ll see. but anyways, Deku and Kacchan didn’t come all the way down to Todoroki taco night to not have their evening peppered with intricate family drama and reopened wounds and hysterical conspiracy theories, so you had better keep them goddamn entertained! lord knows the Todorokis don’t do small talk. this is literally their only way of spicing things up so their guests don’t die of sheer awkwardness while Endeavor sits in stony silence and Shouto just stuffs his face with soba all night

also aren’t we due some popularity poll results soon? just getting in all my random thoughts now before we dive in. anyways Horikoshi, so you know what I want to see now and you better deliver

aaaand now it’s Friday! so Happy Birthday Aizawa, and LET’S GET TO THAT CHAPTER

and we’re opening with Endeavor’s Redemption Arc: The Page. omg

holy fucking shit BnHA. you sure do have a way of making me wait WITH BATED BREATH!! FOR TWO WEEKS!!! ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT!!!! for the new fucking chapter only to have me immediately suck in a deep breath through my teeth and seriously reconsider whether I am in any way emotionally prepared to handle this. “you think you know what you want?!” Horikoshi demands. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA.” sob it’s trueeee

okay. okay. we can do this. hell, if we made it through Tomura’s flashbacks then this should be child’s play. so all right, let’s go

-- oh wait, but before I click to the next page, I just want to note that Endeavor isn’t the only one who’s nowhere to be found in this pic, though! boy you have three sons. uno dos tres

“the hellish Todoroki residence” lmao this legitimately sounds like the title of a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode

ARE YOU TELLING ME ENDEAVOR PROVIDES LUXURY APARTMENTS FOR ALL HIS FUCKING EMPLOYEES OMFG

SO MY THREE SONS HAVE ALL BEEN ROOMING TOGETHER UNDER ENDEAVOR’S ROOF!? THE FANFIC ENDEAVOR AGENCY RESIDENCES?! WHAT KIND OF OT3 SHENANIGANS HAVE BEEN ABOUNDING THIS PAST WEEK OH MY GOODNESS THIS IS LIKE A DREAM

OH MY GOD

okay I have like... ten different notes I want to make about Katsuki and I don’t know where to start SO I’LL JUST START SOMEWHERE!

I’ve legit wanted to see how he would look with his mask pushed up into his hair like a headband for the longest fucking time (I don’t know why! I just wanted to see it!) so this. is. Christmas for me omg. if only he wasn’t making one of his (◣д◢) faces and was instead making a normal face. but that’s probably too much to ask of him at THE CRACK OF DAWN, which brings me to my next point,

I thought he was a morning person?? [furiously checking headcanon notes] kid you go to bed at 8pm. you have your full eight hours by four in the fucking morning. and the full nine and a half hours that GROWING BOYS ACTUALLY NEED by 5:30am, which is when I always assumed you typically woke up in order to get in your morning workout and BEAST IT UP IN THE PIT or whatever gym people do. yet here you are, half dead, while Deku and Burnin’ are raring to go. were you just burning the midnight oil and that’s why you’re grumpy? WAS IT THE FANFIC AGENCY RESIDENCES SHENANIGANS, OH MY GOD I CAN’T

lastly, look at that unzipped collar. why is it that the more disheveled he looks the more I want to pile him up in a headlock and give him noogies. I love him so fucking much, this is ridiculous, he was only gone for two weeks but it felt like SEVENTEEN YEARS anyway

so Burnin’ is all “catch any villains faster than Endeavor yet, LOL, LIKE THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN!!” and they’ve been putting up with this trolling for a fucking week now huh. no wonder Katsuki’s ready to pack it in and sleep for the next year

motherfucker holy shit

sure thing coach. Todoroki Shouto out here ready for the morning huddle. BRING IT IN! ONE TWO THREE PLUS ULTRA

meanwhile Katsuki better keep his hair like that for the rest of the arc now. the collar too. I am living for this

what is Shouto doing with his hands

are you blowing a kiss. or beckoning toward her like Neo in the Matrix. are you channeling your inner Iida. wtf is this

this one panel perfectly encapsulates everything I love about this OT3 dynamic oh my god

Katsuki screaming at Todoroki that he’s better than him (based on impeccable, flawless logic). Shouto completely disregarding this and calmly continuing to have a normal conversation at a normal person volume. and Deku ignoring them both while sending the chipperest, most positive energy in the world out toward this other person because he loves everyone!!

and now there’s three closeups of the boys showing how worn out they are

they’ve been working so hard I’m so proud of them and also they totally deserve a night off to go gorge themselves on soba at Toderly Manor

and then there’s a whole nother page continuing to establish that it has been a week! and they’re working hard! and YES, WE KNOW, though

yep yep yep we get it now WHAT ABOUT THAT DINNER oh my god. it’s been four pages! and if we’re only getting thirteen again then this is precious real estate we’re just wasting here, come onnnnn

so Endeavor is continuing to show off how great he is while the kids look on in frustration

heh but I like this panel because LOOK AT THEM

ALL THREE OF THEM CAN FLY (basically). I love it. yes. just let them be airborne for the rest of the series

meanwhile Endeavor’s thinking agitated thoughts about how Fuyu wants him to try and CONNECT TO THE CHILDREN ON AN ACTUAL EMOTIONAL LEVEL, like what do you think he is?? a human being??!

lol he’s got that look like “WHY DON’T YOU JUST KILL ME NOW AND BE DONE WITH IT.” things he would rather do than have a family dinner with his kids and his two new apprentices: literally. anything. else. ah, but Endeavor. no one said the path of Not Being A Bastard would be easy

he’s thinking about how happy Fuyu sounded on the phone, though. “the thought of us finally becoming a real family...” c’mon Enji you can’t just let your only daughter down like that

and also me. you better not fucking let me down. I was promised dinner at Todoton Abbey and DAMN IT THIS IS HAPPENING

lol he’s getting all fired up and the kids are just mindlessly yelling back like “FUCK YEAH”

even the guy in the background’s like “YEAHHHHHHH LET’S DO ITTT.” the best part is how not a single one of them has any clue what they are loudly agreeing to

OH MY GOD

TODOLAND RANCH, AT LONG LAST. YESSSSS

lmao Kacchan

“it’s not too late!” he is so desperate, bless him. all he wanted was to curl up in his room with a bowl of spicy ramen after a long day and watch old All Might clips on Youtube while blissfully not interacting with a single other soul. and now instead they’ve dragged him to fucking Todo-a-Lago for dinner with his boss, his two best friends who he hates, and SOMEONE’S SISTER. what a nightmare

FUYUMIIIIII

worst part is, I don’t think Kacchan will be able to resist Fuyu’s Kind Elementary School Teacher Energy at all. he’s totally screwed. -- OH MY GOD, IS HE HIDING

like, I know this is the Todoroki drama chapter and that’s where my focus should be, and I’M SORRY, but you guys all know what you signed up for by this point, right? you can read a million other Todo hot takes on tumblr today, but this will forever be the blog that spends paragraphs and paragraphs obsessing over Kacchan hiding behind the door frame and sulking and asking “why though?” in increasingly petulant tones like a four-year-old because SOMEONE DRAGGED HIM TO A SOCIAL EVENT and this is his personal hell! Fuyu’s gonna end up having to manually feed him chicken like Satou did at the party

meanwhile now that I’m actually READING THE REST OF THE PANEL LIKE A NORMAL PERSON, I have to pause for a moment to let my heart break over Deku saying that he hardly ever gets invited over by friends. hey Deku come here for a moment, I just have to give you a dozen hugs real quick and then you can continue as you were

anyway so guys I literally owe Todoroki Fuyumi my life and I want to send her flowers with a “THANKS FOR SAVING THE MANGA” card but it’ll have to wait until the chapter is done. let’s continue

NATSU’S HERE TOO, SHOUTO SAW HIS SHOES, OH M Y GO D

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: shout out to Natsu for wearing the greatest shirt of all time and taking Deku’s rookie-tier gags to THE NEXT LEVEL!)

I LOVE EVERYTHING. I’M SOBBING. BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI. LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!

holy shit Deku

Alton fucking Brown over here. chill my dude

NATSU BRINGING THAT DRAMA YESSSS

and look how oblivious Deku is to the general vibe settling in here

what the fuck do you see. you just literally had no idea how else to respond to that, huh

oh my god oh my fucking god

(ETA: I’m laughing so hard and I’ll explain in the tags. sob.)

guys let me just break down these two panels for you

1. Fuyu is all “NATSU YOU COOKED TOO”

2. Shouto is all “WTF, I ATE NATSU FOOD AND NO ONE FUCKING TOLD ME”

3. Natsu is all “YOU PROBABLY DIDN’T BECAUSE... THAT MAN PROBABLY WOULDN’T ALLOW IT”

how the fuck is there drama brewing over the fucking cooking. this fucking family. and Shouto’s face is two seconds away from being my new icon omg

LMAO

SO YOU TWO FINALLY FUCKING CONNED ON TO THE DANGEROUS SITUATION YOU’VE FOUND YOURSELVES IN, HUH. that’s right bitches. welcome to Todo’s Landing

and now Fuyu has finally made a FATAL ERROR IN JUDGEMENT oh no. that error being trying to fall back on Shouto of all people to ease the awkward tension. that boy literally is made up of awkward tension. right down to his atoms. Fuyu what were you thinking??

FUYUMI: [SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] “SHOUTO WHAT KIND OF FOOD DO YOU EAT AT SCHOOL!!!!”

SHOUTO: [LEAPING TO HIS FEET] “AT THE CAFETERIA!!!!”

someone help me I’m fucking dying. actually, you know what, help them

“yo Deku, do you wanna get the fuck out of here right now.” “yes, yes I do.” turns out, they didn’t really need that internship anyway. maybe they can still convince the centipede man to take them instead

holy shit

like, I feel so bad for him, but also Fuyu looks so fucking sad and I can’t?? this is too much, and things haven’t even gotten spicy yet. this arc is going to leave me a wreck

DSFKSLDFJLK

“it’s okay,” Horikoshi says comfortingly, “here’s a panel of your two good boys helping clean up.” WELL THANK YOU, EXCUSE ME FOR A MOMENT, I’M GOING TO GO SIT. and think about Katsuki being a fucking gentleman whose momma raised him right and who helps clean up the dishes after being invited over for dinner. never mind that he didn’t even help clean up the Christmas party. but he saw Fuyu being sad and immediately went MY GOD, I’VE GOT TO DO SOMETHING TO HELP THIS STUPIDLY NICE LADY

anyway so are you two going to ask Endeavor why his kids hate him so fucking much. or just ignore it because you pretty much know the gist already because Shouto can’t keep a lid closed on anything

OH MY GOD THEY’RE HAVING A SECRET CONVERSATION ABOUT IT

FFFFFFFdfsLK -- “YOU GUYS WERE TALKING ABOUT IT RIGHT NEXT TO ME, ON ACCOUNT OF I WAS STANDING RIGHT THERE, IN THE SHADOWS, BECAUSE I WAS EAVESDROPPING, SHUT UP”

anyways so did you guys know that Deku and Kacchan having whispered conversations about how dramatic the fucking Todorokis are is my all-time aesthetic. I didn’t know either actually. but it is

Fuyu why are you apologizing to Shouto for making him help clean up

AND WHY ARE YOU PERSISTING IN MAKING THAT FACE. SON OF A BITCH. GIRL I’M BRINGING YOU SOME ICE CREAM AND SOME DVDS. WE’RE GONNA HAVE A SLEEPOVER AND FORGET ALL ABOUT THIS SHIT. PLEASE FEEL BETTER. I’M SORRY YOUR TWIN BROTHER IS DEAD AND YOUR WISH TO HAVE A NORMAL FAMILY IS NEVER GOING TO FUCKING COME TRUE BECAUSE WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS OMG

oh my god she’s having a heart to heart with Shouto about how he feels about Endeavor. oh my god I see Horikoshi aiming a bow right at my fucking heart. he’s notching the fucking arrow, this is it, it’s been real you guys

that look in his one visible eye. god. there it is. oh god. hurts

(ETA: do you suppose all of the Todorokis have secretly had that exact same dream. we know Fuyu has, and Rei as well based on her letter. I’m starting to think that Shouto has too. it only makes sense that a boy who was denied a real childhood for the first fifteen years of his life is going to have some part of him that secretly longs to just have a normal family. in related news, Shouto had better get some fucking hugs in this arc!)

-- ARE YOU SERIOUS

WHAT IS IT WITH HORIKOSHI LATELY AND BEING DONE WITH JUST IMPLYING THINGS AND NOW VERY INTO SHOWING THEM IN EXPLICIT HORRIFYING DETAIL. HERE’S A DEAD DOG! HERE’S A DYING CHILD! HERE’S A SIX-YEAR-OLD WHOSE MOM JUST POURED SCALDING WATER ON HIS FUCKING FACE AND SHE DIDN’T MEAN TO BUT IT’S TOO LATE AND NOW THEY’RE BOTH TRAUMATIZED. AND SHE’S USING HER QUIRK TO HEAL HIM AND HELLO, THIS ONE PANEL IS ABOUT TO MAKE ME START CRYING. KATSUKI YOU WERE RIGHT. WHY, THOUGH

(ETA: yeah this does not bode well for an upcoming flashback in which a child was presumably burned the fuck alive. feels like Horikoshi was testing the waters to see how much he could get away with. we may be in for some brutal shit pretty shortly.)

OH MY GOD A LETTER

they’re going to discharge her soon!?? IMMINENT FEELINGS INBOUND. I HAVE NO MORE SPACE TO PUT THEM!! MY HOUSE IS PACKED WITH FUCKING FEELINGS ALREADY, PLEASE

ahhhh he says he doesn’t know

this is the most realistic fucking thing I’ve read in this manga to this date. not knowing how you feel about the abusive parent who did so much harm but is now trying to change. boyyyyy howdy I feel that in my fucking bones. Horikoshi is out there delivering the real shit. goddamn

KATSUKI MY HERO

it’s as though Horikoshi placed his hands on his shoulders and said “listen up sonny boy, I’ve got an important job that only you can do. defuse this tension. in any way you can.” and Katsuki looked him dead in the eye and said “I got this”

meanwhile Deku’s hoping he can spontaneously develop another new quirk which will open up a hole in the ground to swallow him up

DEKU: “I HAD PERMISSION!!!” KACCHAN: “I DIDN’T HAVE SHIT!!”

HE IS BITCHING LIKE A DISGRUNTLED HOUSEWIFE HOLY SHIT I’M LOSING MY MIND

“A NORMAL, PLEASANT EVENING!!” yes of course, that’s why you spent the entire ride over here clinging to Todoroki’s shirt and repeating “WHY” ad infinitum. anyways as usual this child is a nightmare whose fickle tirades absolutely no one deserves to be subjected to, god bless him and I adore him so

and Deku is again apologizing for him like they’re fucking married. this chapter is filled with so many highs and lows for me, it’s wild

this, to be clear, is one of the highs. god I love it

oh shit it looks like Deku’s getting ready to say something! SOMETHING WISE, I BET

YESSSSSSS

IS HE?? sometimes this kid can just peer into other people’s souls with perfect clarity, it’s uncanny

oh my god Shouto’s face

genuine shock. he doesn’t even know how he feels, but somehow Deku is able to cut right to the heart of it

oh my god Katsuki’s there to chime right in too and say “but if you feel like he doesn’t deserve forgiveness that’s fucking fine too”

this is actually incredibly fucking supportive? anyway so guys have I mentioned within the last five seconds how much I love Bakugou fucking Katsuki. I have? well that’s okay I’ll just say it again anyway. and also I love Deku and Shouto too oh my god. bless this chapter

oh lol nevermind that still Deku talking while Katsuki is just making faces. well he’s doing his best. anyways so like I said I love Midoriya fucking Izuku

(ETA: [chinhands] do you guys think. that perhaps. Midoriya Izuku might be harboring some unresolved feelings regarding his own absent daddo. maybe. ??? why does this chapter have so many layers??)

ah I see, Katsuki spied Natsu just STANDING THERE LISTENING IN THE DARK, as one does, and that’s why the face

and also YES, Shouto is like the kindest fucking person in the whole series possibly. thank you for acknowledging that?? I’m in the process of arranging all of these new feels into a comfy little pile now, so maybe I can curl up in them. if Horikoshi insists on delivering more and more

SLDKFJSLDKFLSHGLKJKLJSLGKJSDLFKSDLFKJLSDKJFLKSL

“THE OTHER CHILD WHO’S NO LONGER THERE” RED ALERT, RED FUCKING ALERT, IT’S REALLY HAPPENING, HOLY FUCKING SHIT. REMINDER TO SELF, NEXT THURSDAY I’M GONNA HAVE TO GO ON A SELF-IMPOSED INTERNET HIATUS FOR TWENTY-FOUR HOURS BECAUSE FANDOM’S GOING TO LOSE THEIR FUCKING SHIT WITH THE SPOILERS NEXT WEEK AND I’M NOT EVEN MAD

sdfhk. oh my god. and so it was a photograph! but one which appears to be a segue into a flashback! and the law of escalating tragic flashbacks states that Touya’s is somehow going to be even more horrific than our last flashback, in which, let me just think back for a sec, oh yes, an entire family was massacred and torn into bloody chunks including a six-year-old girl and a dog, and the surviving child was then adopted by a psychopath who adorned him with severed hands and was all “NEVER FORGET HOW FUCKED UP YOU FEEL ABOUT ALL THIS” and then the child murdered some people to feel better about himself. so this is somehow going to be worse than that. well that’s just. ...I don’t even know. I literally can’t think of a lighthearted way to end that train of thought lmao. WE ARE FUCKING SCREWED. get ready to burn, baby

but meanwhile, parting thoughts

so they really do believe he’s dead. that’s confirmed. and he died (or, well, “died”) young, too, based on this picture and on the toys on that shelf. fffff

Endeavor kneeling at a family shrine to pay respects to his dead son and miserably wishing he was still alive is just. repeated stabbings of my already mutilated heart. thanks. thanks for that

he heard EVERYTHING and he’s saying nothing, because what can he say?? I meanwhile have already said “oh my god” about 1600 times in this recap, but I’ll go ahead and say it again anyway one last time because oh my god, the fucking Todofam AND THEIR FUCKING DRAMA!!!

what can I do for my family at this stage? the last plea of a desperate man struggling to make amends and piece together something he’s already shattered into a million pieces. he keeps dreaming of them being happy together, even if he’s not in the dream. he wants to do right by them, finally. but he doesn’t know how. anyways so people have been saying and saying that this arc so far has been death flag after death flag for this old coot, and you know what, they’re fucking right. this does not have a happy ending. this is going to be fucking devastating. and here I am, fully obsessed with it. fuck me

anyways I guess that’s finally everything I can think of to say. this recap is already a million fucking words so that’s fine lol. why though