#People are ready to rip me apart over saying ‘be critical of what you give your pet’ when that’s how you should be treating anything

[todaysbird]

I still think it’s incredible that people blindly accept big brands = unquestionably good when regarding pet care. If you can accept that human care products have been at times poorly researched or downright harmful (and with the brand’s knowledge) like in the Johnson & Johnson scandal, why do you not believe that a brand would mislead or lie to you when it’s regarding your pet?

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.5

masterlist

A/N: thank you so much for your patience! Honestly I struggled so hard with this chapter and I don’t know why, I wrote and deleted things so many fucking times (overthinking, as usual), so I hope this lives up to your expectations! ☺️ and thank you for all of your love for this fic—you’ve all truly made my heart explode! 🥰 also, really sorry if I’ve missed any tags! Okay, here we go!

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catish’ Morales x f!reader

Word count: lmao... just under 5.6k I’m sorry

Warnings: okay, let’s see... swearing, ✨ smut—finally ✨ 18+, no minors! fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving) unprotected p in v sex (wrap before you tap people), masturbation (f), cum shot, cum eating, Frankie’s a messy pussy eater and no I will not be taking constructive criticism because he’s a thirsty man and you know I’m right. I think that’s it! (please let me know if there’s something I should add!)

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.6

+

Fuck. He was really here.

He was really here, in the dim lighting of your tiny apartment, hands buried in his pockets as he watches you shuffle on the spot.

Well shit. Now what?

“Um, so... this is my apartment.” Duh—you idiot.

You frown a little at yourself, palms clamming up with nerves. Your usual moves had all but vanished from your mind. You used to be good at this, so fucking good, but now, with Frankie standing right in front of you in all of his fucking glorious flannelette perfection, you felt a little out of your depth.

How did this shit usually go? You can’t remember. Fuck, you can’t remember. How did you get from point A to point B? Shit. You’re going to embarrass yourself. You can feel it. Oh my god, are you sweating?

Oblivious to your inner turmoil, his gaze flickers around at your words, taking in the many small personal details that make the space your own which he had missed earlier, before landing back on you, eyes darkening as your tongue slips out and runs along your bottom lip.

“It’s nice.” He comments, voice coming out a lot huskier than normal. You can’t help but clench in response, insides twisting pleasantly as his raspy tone settles in your ears.

“Can I—can I get you anything? Coffee?”

Stop. This is ridiculous. The both of you were damn near close to combusting in the truck and now you’re offering coffee? You might as well just show him his way out.

He senses your nerves then, relieved he wasn’t the only one seemingly unsure of how to move this along, but keeps his eyes on you, testing the waters as he speaks, “Maybe in the morning.”

Well, fuck. Okay then.

You swallow, chest heaving slightly as you inhale, heart fluttering away in your chest. God, just kiss him. You don’t need a build-up, just do it. You could feel the ghost of his previous kisses along your lips, could feel the heat of his hands run across your body from when he had pressed you up against the windmill. You needed it all again.

It’s quiet as you both study each other, lost in feeling of growing arousal as your clock ticks slowly somewhere in the background, and then something just snaps.

You both jump forward at the same time, Frankie’s arms immediately wrapping around your waist and bringing you flush against his body while your hands tangle in his hair, tugging sharply and pulling a low groan from him as his lips eagerly mash against yours.

The strength that you meet each other with throws you both off balance, and you stumble into your dining table, breathing a quiet chuckle at the apology he mutters against your lips. You shift to sit on the edge of it, widening your thighs to make room for him as he steps closer and presses his hips tightly against yours.

Your hands shake as you desperately attack the buttons of his flannelette shirt, all but ripping the damn thing down his arms when it eventually parts, and making a small noise of impatience when your hands slide along cotton instead of skin. He briefly pulls away from your mouth, hands quick to tug the plain t-shirt he had worn underneath his shirt up and off his torso, melting back into you the second he drops it to the floor.

Holy shit.

His skin is warm and smooth under your palms as they hungrily feel along his chest and dip along his stomach, grabbing desperately at his waist when his tongue slides into your mouth. He responds eagerly to your touch, pushing your dress up and out of the way to run his hands along on the bare skin of your legs. They stop just below the line of your panties, his thumbs tracing along the inside of your thighs and smoothing dangerously close to your covered pussy.

He feels your muscles move under his touch, feels the whimper fall from your mouth and into his when he squeezes your thighs. Your hips roll forward automatically, needing his touch to go just that little bit higher.

“Please touch me,” you plead quietly, lashes fluttering as you gaze up at him and his chest tightens.

His fingers are quick to move the lace aside and fuck—

He watches your face with open wonder; watches how your eyes close when his fingers lightly trace over you, watches how your breath catches when his thumb swipes through your arousal and spreads it over your swollen clit, rubbing soft insistent circles that have your toes curling in your shoes.

“Frankie—”

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against the skin of your throat, tongue circling over your pulse point before his nose trails up and along your jaw, pressing a kiss at the corner of your lips while your face pinches in pleasure, brows burrowing and grip tightening on his arms.

“More… please—”

He hums lowly, a finger soon swiping through your folds and prying at your entrance, sliding into the wet heat of your pussy with no resistance. You’d been ready for hours, practically dripping for him the second he first laid his hands on you. Your breath catches when he curls it, curious and searching, his lips twisting into a smug grin when your back suddenly arches, a startled cry falling from your lips.

“There we go.” And then he’s pressing soft kisses along your temple, adding a second finger into the mix and thrusting steadily, grinding his palm along your clit as he does so.

He drags it out and you hate that you fucking love it.

With the patience of a saint, he works you slowly, more than happy to drag out your pleasure as long as he likes. He holds you close with his spare hand supporting the back of your neck as you arch into him, lips never straying too far from yours as his fingers drive you closer and closer to the edge.

And then he changes something, moves his fingers just the right way, and it hits you out of nowhere.

Slamming into you like a freight train, the blissful torture hits its peak, and then you’re crashing down, nails digging into his arms as your pussy gushes around him and he’s quickly leaning in, swallowing the cry that flies from your lips.

His fingers slow before he gently pulls them out and then your hands are desperately reaching for his face, teeth clashing slightly as your mouths meet harshly.

“Bedroom?” He mutters hoarsely, throbbing in his jeans and aching to spread you out somewhere more comfortable, to see and feel more of you properly.

It takes a moment for your mind to catch up and register what he says, but when it does, you’re slipping off the table onto unsteady feet and grabbing his hand, stumbling in your haste to get to your room. He works the dress from your body on the way, hands eagerly spreading across the newly bared skin as you spin in his arms, meeting his lips as he backs you to the bed.

“My turn?” You question sweetly against his mouth, hands trailing lightly over the bulge digging into you before landing on his belt, fingers making quick work of the buckle.

He grins, stilling your hands. “Not even close—get on the bed.”

As soon as your ass meets the bedding, he’s on his knees in front of you, warm hands smoothing up along the soft skin of your legs and gently spreading your thighs. You brush a stray curl from his forehead softly as you recline onto your elbow, fingers gently trailing along the side of his face as he smiles at you, turning to kiss your palm softly before his hands are greedily grabbing at your panties and pulling them down your legs.

There’s no working up to it this time… no patience, no soft strokes.

Frankie dives in like a man starved, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he spreads your legs and licks a long, wide strip along your pussy. You feel him groan against you, your hips squirming on the bed as he tries to pull you closer against his mouth, tongue probing at your pussy and hungrily lapping up the mess he had made of you on the table.

Your hand moves to wind into his soft hair, whimpers falling from your mouth as his facial hair tickles at your thighs and tongue rubs relentless strokes over your clit.

Body still strung out and sensitive from the orgasm he had all but ripped from you before, it doesn’t take long for the gentle strokes of his tongue to build another, your stomach clenching as he tightens his hands, feeling the unsteady shake of your legs in his hold.

You dance precariously on the edge, stomach clenching in anticipation. “Frankie, I—fuck—I’m—”

His mouth works you faster, “Fuck, please—”

You shatter at his softly spoken plea, back arching and hand tightening into a fist as you tug harshly at his hair, crying out and drowning the sound of his own groan as you flood his mouth. He takes everything you give him, tongue diving to push into your pussy as you ride out and come down from your high. He pulls off of you with a small pant, licking his lips and brushing his chin with the back of his hand.

You make a small noise of contentment, “Thank you.”

He chuckles quietly, grinning at the look of blissed out mortification that washes your face following your words as he climbs over you. “You’re welcome.”

You grind your hips against his when he presses into you, hissing when your sensitive clit rubs against the rough denim, but your message gets across loud and clear, Frankie’s eyes darkening as he moves in to kiss you slowly. He breaks away for a brief moment to kick his jeans off, and then he’s covering you again, warm body pressing you into the mattress.

“I have a—”

You make a noise of refusal, hands reaching around to grab at his back to keep him on top of you. “Wanna feel you… ‘m safe—”

He can’t help the small groan that falls from his lips, nodding as he dives in for another kiss. “Me too—”

You whimper when he shifts his hips, slotting further between your thighs. He slides the head of his cock between your slick folds, slowly rocking back and forth across your clit and your chest heaves in anticipation, eyes falling shut when you feel him start to slowly slide into you. Fucking finally—

He fills you slowly, cock rubbing deliciously against your walls and you arch into him when he finally bottoms out, his face falling to rest in the curve of your shoulder. He shudders under your hands when he pulls out, thrusting softly into you and cursing quietly when your pussy flutters around him.

You whine, “Fuck. You feel so—”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish. He starts moving, hips moving back before slamming forward again and again, the breath escaping your lungs as he moves to rest on his forearms, lips seeking yours for one more bruising taste of your mouth before he pulls completely away. A hand grabs your thigh, hitching it high around his waist and groaning quietly when he hits deeper on the next push.

You’re lost in a hazy sea of pleasure as he starts to move, frantic in his thrusts, the incoherent mumbling falling from your lips driving him to push harder. You have to smother your mouth with your hand to stifle your scream when he grabs your head board, using it as leverage as his hips start to ram harshly into yours.

He knocks the hand away from your mouth, eyes fierce, “I want to hear you.”

“Fuck—”

A thumb starts rubbing at your clit and you sob from the overstimulation, the burn of it sending shocks throughout your body as your body tenses beneath him, fighting the overwhelming sense of it being too fucking much while clinging to the heat of climax quickly building in your core.

“Come on—”

Your body responds to his words immediately. You’re not even sure what sounds comes out of your mouth when your body completely shatters from the inside out, stars blinding you as your pussy clamps down around him. His hips stutter and then he’s quickly pulling out and away from you, fisting his cock with a quiet groan until his cum is painting your pussy, covering your clit and sliding down your slick folds, mixing with your cum leaking from your entrance.

He all but collapses on top of you, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You’re too tired to open your eyes and watch him as he moves away, bed dipping as he stands and disappears.

A wet warmth covers your thoroughly wrecked pussy, and you blearily blink your eyes open to watch him softly clean you with a face cloth, smiling lazily at him when he glances up at you softly. He throws it into the laundry basket by the door and climbs up next to you, gently manoeuvring your tired body under the sheets before wrapping around you.

You blindly reach for his hand, interlocking your fingers as your body slowly calms and melts into the mattress and into the body radiating warmth behind you. The last thing you feel are soft lips pressing against your temple, a hushed goodnight ringing in your ears.

-

Soft fingers tracing down along your nose drags you gently from sleep the next morning. The smile that stretches your lips is automatic as your eyes focus on Frankie, dressed in his clothes from yesterday and perched on the bed next to you.

“I have to go.” He mutters, eyes soft and apologetic as the backs of his fingers brush lightly over your cheek.

“Oh,” you try not to let the disappointment flood your tone, but your face doesn’t get the message as it falls into a pout.

“I know—I’m sorry.” He smiles, fingers still caressing the skin across your face. Your chest tightens the longer he gazes softly at you, something shining deep in his eyes that makes your heart race. “Can I take you out for dinner sometime in the week?”

Delight radiates from your chest as you smile, nodding eagerly. “That would be nice.”

“Last night was…” he trails off, unable to find the words to describe what he felt about the evening before, and a flush of pink grows along his cheeks, his stomach flipping as your moans echo in his ears.

How the fuck is he meant to go about his day and run errands when the picture of you spread out beneath him and crying out his name as you cum keeps playing over and over in his mind like a fucking prime time movie?

“Incredible.” You provide softly, blinking shyly up at him as he grins.

“Incredible.” He agrees just as quietly, feeling like a complete idiot with how hard he was smiling. What was it Benny said the other day? Whipped.

You hold your breath when he leans down, nose scrunching slightly when his moustache tickles your upper lip, his mouth moving unhurriedly as his tongue slides against yours and quickly turning your brain to complete mush. You hum as he moves away, nose brushing softly against yours.

“Are you sure you have to go? You can’t stay for just a few more minutes?” You breathe against his lips, heat spreading across your skin as his eyes darken and slowly lower to where the sheets only just cover your breasts. He groans quietly, flicking a hand out to check his watch and brows pinching as he studies the face of it.

“A few minutes,” he finally decides, hand ripping the sheet away and lips curling up as you yelp in surprise.

He spreads your legs with firm hands, shuffling onto his stomach as he flings your thighs over his shoulders. You sit up onto your elbows, laughing quietly.

“This wasn’t what I had in—oh.”

Fuck—

His finger’s part you gently before his tongue is softly moving over your clit in wide, lazy strokes, and you fall back onto the bed with a whimper, unable to resist grinding against his mouth. Your hand blindly reaches down and soon warm fingers are interlacing with yours, his thumb rubbing across your skin as his lips wrap around your clit.

Fire erupts in your core, electric heat spreading throughout your body as he steadily works his mouth against you, nose brushing your clit as his tongue dives into your pussy, his groan muffled as your taste floods his mouth.

“Fuck Frankie, so good—”

His movements turn frenzied, face pressing up harder against you as his tongue swirls sloppily around your clit, the sounds filling the room obscene as he hungrily laps and sucks at your pussy. All you can do is hold on, the hand intertwined with his tightening as your other flies to his ruffled curls, tugging sharply.

Holy shit, just like that—

You struggle to fill your lungs, struggle to feel anything other than his mouth and how it works savagely against you, pushing you higher and higher until you’re right fucking there—

He feels your legs tense, and anchors himself to you with an arm across your hips, groaning when you cry out and gush around his mouth, coating his tongue and chin.

His mouth is still on you when the wave of bliss dissolves into a dull tingle, hurried movements now languid as his tongue smooths through your folds, his head resting against your inner thigh. You watch him through tired eyes, hand gently brushing his hair from his forehead as his eyes close at the soft caress, tongue curling one more lazy swirl over your pussy before he presses a light kiss to your clit and sits up.

“Now I really have to go.”

-

“Where the fuck have you been?!” Benny yells across the café, ignoring the heads that turn to frown at him. Frankie rolls his eyes, hand running through his hair as he quickly advances to the small group and slides into the booth.

“Sorry—truck wouldn’t start.”

“Mhm.” Santiago hums lowly, hiding a grin behind his cup as he sips his coffee, eyeing Frankie with a critical eye. “What was wrong with it?”

“What?”

Benny crosses his arms on the table and leans forward, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Your truck—what was wrong with it?”

Frankie shrugs, eyes falling to browse the menu in front of him. “Battery.”

Now fucking drop it.

Pope raises a brow, “Was it flat?”

Fucking Pope—

“Sure.”

Will snorts across the table, grinning wryly as Frankie glares at him. “’Sure’? It was either flat or it wasn’t.”

Fucking Miller—

“Look—I’m here now, let’s just eat so I can go and get Mena.”

The table goes quiet and Frankie sighs in relief, his eyes falling back to his menu. It stays quiet for so long that Frankie actually starts to think the subject has been dropped.

He should’ve known better.

“Fish got laid.” Benny coos softly, Pope and Will snickering behind their menus as Frankie sighs deeply, lips twitching as he fights the grin spreading from their teasing.

-

Rain softly pelts the roof of the truck as you giggle against Frankie’s lips, his dark gaze softening as you smile up at him. You brush a hand softly across his cheek, pressing another zealous kiss to his lips which he returns eagerly, hand smoothing along your thigh and pushing under your skirt to squeeze your thigh, grinning when you whimper into his mouth.

You had said goodbye a few times already, each time ending the same way—lips locked in a bruising, passionate frenzy, neither of you quite ready to let the night come to a close. You break away with a sigh, head tilting as his mouth trails greedily along your throat, tongue soothing the sudden sting away as he nips at your skin.

“I wish you could come up.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. He shouldn’t be—it’s not like he didn’t want to. He had a toddler to get home to. You understood, of course, but it didn’t make the goodbye any easier.

“It’s okay.” You smile at him, his chest tightening as you do.

“You could...” he trails off, chewing his cheek in thought as he looks out of the windshield before turning to you, eyes showing the nervous uncertainty that had flooded him. “You could come back to mine, if—if you want to.”

You blink, pulling away to look up at him searchingly. “What about Mena?”

Would he want you out before dawn or something? Sneak out of the house like you were teenagers or some sort of one night stand? You know he meant no harm by it, but the thought of having to grab your clothes and disappear in the middle of the night had you feeling a little insulted.

“I don’t mind you staying... if you want to meet her. You don’t have to, I was just... I don’t know. I’m just saying it’s—it’s on the table, if that’s something you’d be interested in.” His hands rub along his jeans, wiping the nervous sheen of sweat that had gathered on his palms.

You’re quiet, letting his words soak in and thinking over it seriously. You had no kids, obviously, and no friends that had kids, either, but... wasn’t it a little early for something like this? Although, she was still young—it’s not like she’d know any different.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said anything. I know it’s early—”

“Can you wait while I pack a bag?”

His heart speeds up as he nods. Shit—was he nodding too fast? He returns your grin as you quickly hop from the truck and rush through the light rain and into your building, disappearing from his view as the door slams behind you.

Did he do the dishes? Fuck—he left his folded laundry on his bed. Why didn’t he just put it away earlier?

It’s fine. It’s fine. Maybe he could fake going to the bathroom and just throw them into his cupboard before you saw anything. Yeah—that’ll work. It’s fine.

You reappear sooner than he expected, a small overnight bag slung over your shoulder and he can’t help the elation that floods his face, grin making his cheeks ache as he quickly leans over the seat and shoves the door open for you. His hand doesn’t leave your thigh the entire way to his place, your fingers drawing random patterns on the back of it as you listen to him sing softly to the music playing from the speaker.

The first thing you notice when he pulls into his driveway is how perfect his house seems to fit him, and he chuckles when you tell him as much. You stay wrapped into his side as he holds his jacket over your head to keep you from getting too wet, quickly ushering you up and onto his porch just in time as the rain comes down heavier.

He ushers you in when he finally gets the door open, and your giggling stops short at the amused gaze you get from the dark-haired man shrugging his jacket on in the entryway.

You wave politely, feeling like an idiot, standing close to the door as Frankie steps in behind you. “Hi,”

The man fixes his jacket on his shoulders, his dark knowing eyes sliding from you to Frankie as a sly grin starts to work its way onto his face.

“Hi. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He replies, grin widening as Frankie comes to stand next to you, nervously fiddling with his keys.

How the fuck did he completely forget about Pope? Jesus Christ—

Santiago reads the message rolling through his friend’s eyes—a big fat ‘get the fuck out now’, but instead of heeding the unspoken warning and disappearing, he leans his hip on the back of the couch, thoroughly enjoying the twist of Frankie’s features as he makes himself comfortable.

He holds a hand out, “I’m Santiago—the good looking one of the group.”

Frankie rolls his eyes as you give your name in return and shake the outstretched hand, turning to throw his keys in the bowl sitting on the table next to the door, and hissing a quiet insult under his breath.

“That’s debatable,” is your immediate reply, your eyes shooting to land appreciatively on Frankie with a smile, watching the angry flush of pink rise along the skin of his throat as he grins back at you.

Pope watches quietly, eyes flickering between the both of you before he chuckles. “You guys are cute. You need a rubber, Fish? Whoa—hey—okay, I’m going—”

You bite your lip to stifle the laugh bubbling in your chest, watching Frankie immediately wrangle Santiago under his arm and all but shove him out the door. Pope throws you a wave over his shoulder, grinning as he mutters something you didn’t catch in Spanish that had Frankie straightening up and growling a retort.

Your eyes roam around the room as the two men bicker behind you, taking in the comforting warmth that oozes from the space.

You step forward to wander the lounge quietly, smiling as you study the many pictures hung perfectly square on the walls. Your eyes find the familiar faces of Benny and Will in a few of them, along with Santiago and another taller man.

You pause on one, heart fluttering and chest tightening as you study Frankie, darks eyes locked on the blanketed bundle in his arms. The one next to it is newer, more recent—a bright eyed little toddler perched on his hip as they both grin at the camera, colourful streamers hanging above them and a giant ‘1’ balloon in the background.

Fatherhood suited him. He was glowing.

The sound of the door closing has your attention returning to him, eyes fond as you watch him start making his way to you.

“She’s a mini-you.”

He grins, looking at the photo of him and Mena, and nodding. “I know—poor thing.”

He laughs when you slap his chest lightly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before leading you further into his home. “Would you like anything?”

“I won’t say no to another kiss, and maybe something else.”

He turns on his heel instantly, brow rising as he winds an arm around your waist and dips you slightly back with a curious ‘oh?’. You grab at his arms, giggling as you clutch his sleeves, “Frankie!”

He chuckles deeply, lips pressing softly against yours. You sigh at the feel of them, your hand cupping his cheek as his tongue slides out to meet yours, his hand grabbing a greedy handful of your ass and bringing your hips flush against his. You’re both completely oblivious to the door reopening behind you.

“I forgot my phone—don’t mind me.”

“Pope—” Frankie barks, frowning over your head as Santiago jogs to the couch and holds his phone up, wiggling it in his hold.

“What? I’m not looking.”

Santiago disappears, the door clicking softly behind him and you grin, kissing the corner of Frankie’s lips as he eyes the door, half expecting Pope to come waltzing right back in with some other bullshit excuse.

“Frankie…”

His dark eyes meet yours instantly, his stomach flipping at the mischievous shine in your gaze.

“There is something I’d really like.” You continue quietly, straightening up and slowly pushing him back towards his couch.

He’s putty in your hands, wide eyes blinking at you in awe as you run your tongue along your lip. He drops onto the couch with a small exhale when you push him, heart thundering in his ears as you drop to your knees in front of him.

“Can I?” You reach for his belt, fingers running along the cool metal of the buckle.

Fuck. You’re so pretty.

He must’ve spoken aloud because a shy smile curls your lips, eyes briefly falling before flickering back up at him from beneath your lashes. Your fingers move when he gives a shaky nod of consent, quickly working the belt open and diving for the button of his jeans.

Wait—

“Hold on a second?” He stands, carefully stepping around you and walking to his door, locking every latch and bolting the deadlock securely before turning and making his way back to you. “I don’t need Pope interrupting this.” He mutters in quiet explanation, lips twitching at your chuckle.

He settles himself back in front of you, inhaling deeply when your fingers work his jeans open and pull them down his legs. He’s already half hard, the mere idea of your mouth going anywhere near his cock enough to stir a hunger deep in his belly.

“You didn’t let me have a turn when you stayed over.” You accuse quietly, hand wrapping around him and giving a slow tug, working him softly until he was fully hard and pulsing in your hand.

“’m sorry,” he mutters, tongue running his lower lip as you continue to work him gently, his hips squirming under your ministrations.

“I think about this all the time.” You admit, eyes watching his cock throb in your grasp. “How you’d feel, how you’d taste.”

Holy shit—you did?

He makes a quiet noise when your thumb brushes over the head of his cock, collecting the small drop of precum that beads there and smoothing it along his skin. You watch it glisten, pussy clenching as it smears silkily under your thumb.

“Can I taste you, Frankie?”

He’s nodding before you even finish.

The wet heat of your mouth envelopes his cock and he exhales sharply, hands flying to grab at the cushion beneath him. He can’t help but buck into your mouth when your tongue slides along his slit, collecting the precum you had spread there, before running it along the underside of his cock.

You moan at the salty taste of him on your tongue, hands finding purchase on his thighs as you push yourself to take him deeper, fighting the resistance at the back of your mouth and taking him down your throat, holding steady as he curses above you.

Pulling back, you inhale sharply before starting to bob your head, lips wrapping tightly around his cock and sucking lightly as your hand moves to pump what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, so perfect—”

Your panties feel slick as your thighs rub together, your arousal soaking the fabric as Frankie moans quietly, head dropping to fall back against the couch in bliss. You run your free hand under your skirt, whimpering when your fingers press against your clit through the lace and start to rub little circles in time with the movement of your head.

You take him deeper, saliva pooling and spilling from your mouth as you gag around him, your pussy aching with the need to have something, anything, filling it. You hear nothing but Frankie; nothing but the small whimpers and whines that fall from his lips, and your fingers slip into your panties, swiping along your slit before thrusting them into your pussy, your moan muffled as you take him down your throat again.

His eyes fall to the hand disappearing under your skirt, your hips moving in time to whatever the fuck your fingers are doing and his stomach tightens.

“Fuck. Are you—” his eyes flicker up from your hips to watch your brows pinch together in pleasure and then he’s fucking done for; the thought of you getting yourself off while sucking his cock completely tearing him to pieces.  He groans loudly, cock throbbing and twitching as cum spurts from his tip and floods your eager mouth.

His hot release hits your tongue and back of your throat, and paired with the incoherent praises spilling from his mouth, it triggers your own body shattering climax. You choke out a moan from around him as your walls tighten around your fingers, his cum overflowing and spilling from your lips as you struggle with the fullness of him down your throat.

You slip your fingers out from your fluttering pussy and sit back on your heels with a heaving gasp once his cock starts to soften in your mouth, tongue messily lapping at the cum that spilt over your skin.

He dives forward eagerly, lips wrapping around your fingers and groaning as your familiar taste floods his tongue. He soon moves to your mouth, tongue catching the drop of his cum from your chin before he’s pushing it into your mouth, groaning when your tongue eagerly swipes along his.

Your kisses soon turn tender, gazes gentle as you part from each other.

Something’s happening—you can feel it in your chest. A feeling tugs at your heart, soft and insistent. It grows when he smiles, radiates warmth when his hands take yours as he helps you from the floor. You briefly wonder what it could be before shaking the thought from your head, devoting your attention back to Frankie as he walks you through the house to his bedroom.

+

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[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[blonde-in-charge]

Wildcard Chapter Two

Hello! Kat here! Anyways here is chapter two of Wildcard, I hope you guys like it. Please remember to like, repost, and comment if you enjoyed it! Please comment or message me if you would like to be apart of the taglist for this series, anyways enjoy!

Summary: Steve Rogers found you on the side of the road after a mission involving Hydra and convinced the Avengers to take you in. You have no name, no memories, and no idea of what you are capable of. All you know is that you are a super soldier with more hidden abilities than you care to admit. The first step to finding answers was to train you. Nobody, including you, knows what is up your sleeve.

Characters: Bucky x reader, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Random Hydra guy

Warnings: blood/violence and ass kicking, mentions of suicide, worried!bucky, maybe a lil bit of fluff, Bucky’s POV 

Words: 2.6k

The elevator ride was silent on the way back to your floor. You were just so angry with yourself, you had no stamina when it came to your powers, even after training all day with Natasha and Tony. God forbid you joined in on missions, you would be killed on sight. You sighed loudly, your head was pounding. You checked your watch and realized it was past dinner time, fantastic. You couldn't wait to skip eating and go straight to bed. The elevator reached it destination and the doors slide open to reveal the floor you lived on to be completely dark and empty. You heard shuffling down the hallways and you had the urge to call out to Steve or Bucky. You remained silent and started to quietly make your way down the hallway. You heard shuffling and then felt a presence behind you. Before you knew what was happening, you had spun around to a looming figure over you and saw a glint of light in one of their hands. Knife.

 It all happened so fast you barely registered that your body swung into action. You grabbed the assailant's arm and twisted the knife out of their hand before jumping up and wrapping your thighs around their neck. The man struggled clutching at your thighs, he slammed his back against the wall in an attempt to break your grip. Your head was pounding and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You used all the momentum you had to swing your body downwards with the man wrapped in between your legs to slam him into the ground. The assailant was unphased and finally managed to rip you off of his back and neck. You fell to the ground but scrambled to get up as quickly as possible. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see the outline of the man as he stalked around you. You turned and sprinted down the hallway into the living area and kitchen and heard the man follow close behind. You ran full speed at one of the support beams and kicked off of it to throw yourself at him. The man grabbed your throat out of mid air and threw you to the ground, knocking the air from your lungs. You were being held by your throat against the cold tile, your vision slowly slipping away to black. You heard metal being ripped apart from down the hallway and the sound of heavy running. The air rushed back into your lungs as the man was thrown off of you and you rolled over automatically to suck in the most painful breath of air. You looked up to see who had joined you and saw Bucky standing over the limp man who just spit at him. 

“Hello Soldat.” The man grinned up at Bucky in the dark. Bucky remained deathly still upon hearing the name, “It is good to see you are alive.”

You heard the door to the stairway slam open and looked down the hall to see two more figures run towards you, Bucky, and the man. You squinted and saw Steve standing next to Natasha, both ready to hurl themselves into the fight. The lights switched on and you looked over to see the man had managed to stand up and move towards the window. He was covered in blood and gave you a sickening smile with his yellow teeth, “Hail Hydra.” Your heart dropped as you picked yourself up and watched him break the glass of the window and jump. You ran forward stopping at the edge of the glass to peer over. The man had fallen almost 35 stories and was now limp and bleeding out against the pavement below. Your mouth was hanging open in a silent scream as you felt someone tug you back from the window. You gripped at the metal arm holding your waist as they pulled you away towards your own room. You were half dragged half carried to your room and when your eyes laid upon it, it had been ransacked and torn apart. Before you could process the situation, Bucky turned around and headed towards his own room. He set you gently upon the bed and you studied the dents in the door from when he forced it open. Bucky did not make eye contact with you as he started arranging the pillows around you to try and make you comfortable.

“Bucky.” You said quietly as you watched him, waiting for him to look at you.

Bucky ignored you and continued his fret around the room, trying hard to clean and make it comfortable for you. He set up a singular pillow and blanket on the ground and you watched him, realizing he was going to let you stay in his room, “Buck, look at me.” He stopped for a moment before turning around and meeting your eye.

Your face was tinted pink from the fight and your eyes were set in dark circles. The braid your hair was in originally was coming undone from the middle, with pieces of hair standing up in every direction. The sweatshirt you wore was torn under your left arm, leaving a huge hole that exposed your ribs. His eyes trailed down and rested at your neck and you felt yourself immediately ghosting your hand over what felt to be a huge bruise covering your neck from the assault. You knew the bruise would fade quickly, so did Bucky, but that did not stop the worried look in his eyes. You wouldn't admit to him you were traumatized, you knew he was too. The place you thought would be safe was broken into by the same people who destroyed the light in you both. You searched Bucky’s face and then he turned around to rummage through his drawers. He pulled out a long sleeve burgundy shirt and handed it to you without saying a word. You took the shirt in your hands and looked up at him to thank him but he had already made his way to the door, presumably to talk to Steve about what just happened. 

You stood up and pulled your ruined sweatshirt over your head before you threw it into the corner of Bucky’s room, along with the sports bra you were wearing. You pulled the soft shirt over your head and stuck your arms into the sleeve holes. You pushed down and kicked off the leggings you were wearing and settled for the pair of boyshorts you were wearing underneath before you crawled back into the nest Bucky created around you. You pulled the elastic band out of your hair and ran your fingers through the soft waves the braid had created. The door reopened to Bucky holding a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. You sighed almost forgetting about the throbbing behind your eyes. You nodded him thank you before popping open the bottle and pouring five little pills into your hand, ignoring the hard look the former soldier was giving you. You cupped your hand to your mouth letting the pills fall in before chasing them down with the glass of water in your other. 

-

When the power went out, Bucky thought it was just another storm. He was staring up at the ceiling criticizing the way a storm could take out the power in the Avengers Tower, shouldn't there be a backup generator in this place? Bucky ignored the familiar click of the door as it locked him into his own room, a safety precaution he was well aware of. The silence overtook his room, all he could hear was his steady heart beat in his ears, until it wasn't. He could hear the faint sound of struggling outside of his door and he sat himself up to stare at the silver door. His heart beat grew louder in his ears as he pushed himself out of the bed and towards the door to press his ear against it. A loud thump against the wall caused him to flinch and jump back from the door. He ran his fingers through his hair, he couldn't leave this room, surely someone would come up and help whoever was being attacked, right? He racked his brain for answers as soon as he heard the running past his door. Who lived on this floor? Himself, Steve and-

The thumping in Bucky’s ears grew louder, he pressed his ear to the door and heard someone get thrown against the ground, and the sound of them gasping for air. He reeled back and slammed his body against the door over and over again, barely leaving a dent in the thick metal. He took a deep breath and tried wedging the fingers of his left hand into where the door was locked, and he grunted as the door fought him. He opened the door enough to get out, surely leaving a dent in the side of the door where his metal arm had crushed it. He ran towards the noises of struggle and rounded the corner to see you being held to the ground by your throat. Your eyes looked straight through Bucky’s and rage washed over him as he threw himself at the man to tackle him off of you. The sound of you inhaling your first breath was music to Bucky’s ears as he pulled himself up looking at the silhouette of a man against the window. 

Bucky’s breath was ragged from the amount of anger that welled up inside of him. He could see the man grin at him before he said, “Hello Soldat,” Bucky’s breath stopped and he remained frozen in place as the man spit blood at him then continued to speak with a thick russian accent that was laced with venom, “It is good to see you are alive.”

The man in front of him glanced behind Bucky, and Bucky realized he didn't register the lights clicking on or the sound of Steve and Natasha's steps behind him. The man grinned wickedly with yellow teeth before making dead eye contact with you, “Hail Hydra.” Was the last thing he said before glass shattered and he was falling towards the ground below. You flew past Bucky to the window sending him into a panic that you would follow the man to the ground. Bucky leaped forward and grabbed you around your waist with his left arm and dragged you back. Steve watched you both with fear and anger swirling in his eyes, made eye contact with Bucky in a silent plea to calm their friend. Bucky turned his attention to you for the first time to see the look of absolut horror written all over your face, he could feel your body shaking against his. He didn't let himself think about it too much as he half dragged you to your room. Bucky saw the absolute chaos of the room before you did and turned around and headed in the direction of his own, praying you didn't see your room in the state it was in. That man wanted something from you or him, Bucky’s mind was reeling as he sat you on his bed, your tired eyes looking up at him. His anxiety was through the roof so he just started moving. He didn't want you leaving his side until it was safe for both of you, Bucky moved around his room picking up pillows and blankets to put near you. 

“Bucky.”

He arranged the pillows behind you, careful to keep his distance while working. He turned around and scanned his room before setting up something for him to sleep on, on the ground. 

“Buck, look at me.” Bucky stopped completely and slowly turned around to face you. His eyes scanned you up and down before resting on your own eyes. He could tell you were tired, he admired the brave face you were putting on, no doubt for him. His eyes glanced down to see the faded navy blue sweatshirt you wore so often was torn, he turned towards his dresser and pulled out his most comfortable long sleeve shirt. He knew you preferred long sleeves the same way he did, you both had something to hide, a piece of your past written on both of your arms. Bucky remained silent before walking out of the room to give you privacy and he walked straight into the living room where Steve was speaking in hushed tones to Natasha and Tony.

Steve looked up and regarded Bucky with concern, “How is she doing?”

“How the hell did he get into the tower?” Was the first thing Bucky had said in hours. 

Tony’s jaw was clenched, “Friday was shut down for updating, it's a monthly thing that leaves our defenses down, I have no idea how he knew exactly when I was going to do it.” Bucky could tell Tony blamed himself, which made him feel slightly better. 

“She doesn't feel safe here, and frankly, neither do I.” Bucky said quietly, although you never verbally said it, Bucky could tell by the way you were holding yourself.

Steve looked away from Bucky and nodded with understanding, “We will have a safe house set up for both of you in the next couple hours, it would be best that you leave while it's dark.” 

“We are not splitting up.” Bucky said staring into Steves eyes

“Buck-” Steve started but Tony cut him off 

Tony started “Look sunshine, it will be too easy to find you if you are both in the same place, Hydra could-”

“I don't care. We aren't splitting up, the last thing she needs is to be alone” He knew you could handle yourself alone he said it mostly for himself, he didn't want to be alone again.

Steve looked at him with knowing eyes, “Alright, fine. I will come get you when the safe house is ready, just go be there for her right now, okay?” 

Bucky didn’t even respond to Steve; he just nodded and turned towards the kitchen. He filled a glass up with water and hunted down the bottle of pain relievers to bring to you. Bucky re-entered his own room, ignoring the gap between the center of his door and the wall from when he ripped it open. His eyes fell upon you wearing his shirt and snuggled into his bed when he handed you the items in his hands. You poured a handful of ibuprofen and Bucky gave you a look that said ‘really?’

He realized he hasn't said anything up until this point and then he cleared his throat watching you wash down the pills, “They are moving us into a safe house later tonight, Friday was breached when it- she was down for maintenance,” Bucky caught the flicker of worry in your eyes, “We will be in the safe house together.” He was content as some of the worry dissolved from your face, “For now you should get some rest…”

He started to sit himself on the ground and you reached out to grab his arm, “Will you stay up here with me?” He looked into your eyes at the silent begging which made him nod his head. He has never been this close to you before, he hasn't been this close to anyone since the war. His body was vibrating with anxiety as he climbed into the nest of pillows and blankets on the bed. You threw your legs over his and buried your face into his chest, then sighed into him with contentment. Bucky’s body was extremely tense until he felt you relax into his right side. He stared up at the ceiling and felt your chest rise and fall against the side of his body. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off.

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 7:

тєи ℓєє

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @curieouscapt @whathamelon @unknown5tar @ajhdr @silent-potato

warnings: the reader is soon-to-be engaged to someone 12 years older, virginity loss, extreme lack of experience from the reader, dirty talk, Ten’s a sweetheart 😭

“He’s here!” Your mother clapped her hands excitedly, asking the butler to answer the door.

You sat with both hands squeezed on your lap. You’d never seen a male tailor, let alone be dressed by one. Would it be uncomfortable? Just as your mind was about to drift away, a man with at least four rolls of fabric entered the room.

“Good evening, my lady.” Was he even real? He looked straight out of a painting, just like the ones hanging on your wall.

“Good evening, sir.” You bowed your head gracefully, just like you'd been taught to do.

“There’s no need to be so formal.” He smiled cheekily, his eyes disappearing just the slightest and making your heart flutter with excitement. “Let us have a seat and chat a little about what kind of dress you'd like.”

Everything went so naturally with him, from sitting down and talking about the event you'd be wearing the dress to, to his hands surrounding your waist, taking your measurements.

“I was thinking of something white, my lady. After all, the goal is to get a certain gentleman to ask for your hand, isn't it?”

“How did you...?”

“Your mother is quite a chatty lady.” You sighed. She certainly had trouble keeping things a secret, the whole town probably already knew by now.

“Then I guess you already know we've known each other since we were kids, well, since I was a kid. He's twelve years older.” You sounded so excited talking about that guy that it made him smile. “Are you married, sir?”

“God, no!” He was quick to explain. “I want to devote myself to work, that's what makes me happy.”

“But imagine yourself, waiting for your beautiful bride at the church, ready to join your lives for what is left of them. Just to think about it gives me goosebumps.” To him, what you'd just said sounded like agony. Dedicating himself to another person for the rest of his life? He’d rather jump off a cliff.

“I just don't think I'm good husband material, that's all.”

As the days passed by, you got to know him better. He’d often tell you about his job, how many dresses he'd confectioned that week, how much money he'd earned, every single little detail of it. He made it sound like a dream, he spoke so passionately about it that you wondered whether you'd ever find something that would make you feel that same way.

“Good morning, my lady.” He kissed your knuckles, a devilish grin extending through his lips as he admired your flustered face. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He extended a big, white box with a red velvety ribbon keeping it closed.

“That was fast!” You opened it to reveal a pretty, lacy dress. It was exactly what you’d asked for, but then why did you feel so sad?

“What is it, my lady? Do you not like the dress?”

“No! I love it.” He smiled, pulling out the dress from it’s confinement to let you have a better look at it. It was, indeed, beautiful.

“Would you like to try it on?”

You soon found yourself behind a room divider, slipping the soft dress on. The texture was marvelous, like wearing a cloud. It would definitely draw Johnny’s attention, that’s for sure.

“How do I look?” You stepped out, spinning around to let his critic eyes have a look at his masterpiece. He squinted his eyes as if he wasn’t pleased. “What is it?”

“Your corset.”

“Huh?”

“Truth to be told, I knew this dress wouldn’t work with a traditional corset, so I might have made a special one for the occasion.” You walked to the full body mirror, taking a look at yourself.

“It looks fine to me.”

“You look too innocent, my lady.” You furrowed your eyebrows, eyes connecting with his through your reflections. “This dress wasn’t made to make you look innocent, but to make you look like a sophisticated, upper class woman.”

You went through your options and finally decided to listen to the expert.

“Do you happen to have that corset at the moment?”

“Yes, but the problem is, only I know the right way to adjust it. Would you be okay with me doing that?” You could feel cold sweat running down the back of your neck.

Only your mother and some servants had seen you naked, but never a man. It wasn’t supposed to happen unless the couple was married. However, you felt the urge to accept his proposition.

“A-alright.” He nodded, keeping a straight face as he started undressing you.

He slowly started undoing the ribbon that kept your corset in place. Still in front of the mirror, you could see his concentrated features, not looking at anything but your back. Your mounds were finally liberated, and for a split second, you could see the tailor’s eyes staring at them.

“Raise your arms please.” Was he really not going to do anything? This was the part when the two main characters exchanged a heated session of kisses according to the novels you'd read. But he kept the same stoic face all the time.

“Ten?” This was the very first time you'd called him by his real name, well, his nickname.

He didn't seem bothered by it, concentrated on adjusting your corset.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Am I not attractive?” His hands accidentally tightened the ribbons too much, making you wince.

“Sorry.” He apologized, loosening the piece of clothing. “But why are you asking me this?”

“Well...” You were ashamed to admit it, but your curiosity got the best of you. “Aren’t men supposed to go wild over breasts? At least that's what I heard.” Ten would've never expected such an inappropriate comment from you, though he couldn't say he didn't like that new boldness of yours.

“I guess so.”

“Then why didn't you go wild over mine?”

The room was filled with nothing but silence for a couple of seconds before he finally found an appropriate answer for your question.

“I’ll ask you something first.” you nodded. “If you knew men had a thing for breasts, then why did you let me do this?” You would've liked to say that it was because you deeply trusted him, but you both knew that deep down, it wasn't completely true.

“I don't know.”

“Did you want to seduce me or something like that?” You were about to reply, but his deep laugh interrupted you. “Well, since you answered my question, I shall answer yours.” he finally finished adjusting your corset, placing his hands above the curves of your waist and leaning down to whisper something. “You have the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen. They look round and soft, the perfect size to hold them with my hand. But I can't allow myself to go wild over you, not when you're about to get engaged to someone else.” So the things wrote in novels weren't entirely fantasy, things like that did happen in real life. “Trust me, I wish nothing but to pinch those pretty, perky nipples and have you begging for more. But we can't.”

“Yes, we can.” With a newly found courage, you guided his hands up until they reached your mounds. They did, in fact, fit perfectly between his hands.

“My lady-”

“Y/n.” You held his hands against your warm body. “Please, my name is y/n.”

“Stop playing with fire.” His voice had become lower, hands shaking the slightest under yours.

“I want you to play with me, Ten. Use me, do whatever you want with my body. Alleviate the ache I'm feeling between my legs.” That was his breaking point.

His expert fingers quickly undid the knots, allowing his hungry eyes to have a look at your naked torso.

“Touch me.” he turned you around, so you were directly facing him.

“So greedy.” His hands covered your chest once again, this time with no fabric in between. His palms felt so warm against your skin, you couldn’t help but sight. “Tell me, how does your little cunt feel?”

“I-I’m sorry?” His right hand went down, rubbing circles over your undergarments. Immediate relief washed over your body.

“Do you know what an orgasm is?” You shook your head, gasping as his fingers pinched your hard nub. “It’s the only way to relief the ache you feel here.” He tapped your entrance with his middle finger, feeling your wetness under his digits.

“How can I have one?”

“You’ll have to trust me, alright?” His dominant demeanor had changed to a softer one, kissing your jawline as hands sneaked inside the fabric, a new, pleasant feeling making your legs shake. “How does this feel?”

“Nice.” He retrieved his hand, you whined at the loss of contact. “Hey!”

“Jump.” He instructed, lifting you up with both of his hands below your thighs. He guided you all the way to the nearest wall, your back pressed against the concrete surface. “Sorry for this.” He muttered before ripping your undergarments apart.

Skillfully, he lowered his pants, his hard member springing up. The moment his tip started slipping into your whole, an immense amount of pain made you scream.

“Stop!” Ten frowned, pulling away but still holding you against the wall.

“Have you changed your mind about this?” There was a hint of pain peeking through his voice.

“It hurts a lot.” As if to back up your words, a small tear rolled down your cheek.

“I know, sweetheart. But that's the way it's supposed to be.” If it hurt so much, then why did people do it so often? “You just need to get used to it and it'll start feeling better, I promise.”

“Really?” For you, it didn't make any sense.

“We can stop whenever you want, just give it a try.” You hesitantly nodded, letting him align with your entrance once again. “Deep breaths, darling.”

It was the worst pain you'd ever felt, even worse than that time when you fell off a horse. But just like the tailor had said, that unpleasant feeling was soon replaced with something else...something that made your tummy feel warm.

“You're doing so well.” He praised as if he wasn't the one doing all the hard work while you held onto his shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I need to pee.” You gasped, letting your head rest against the wall.

“Don't hold it back, darling. It means you're close.” His large hands caressed your sides, holding you tightly.

“Ten...” You whimpered, biting his clothed shoulder to stop yourself from screaming in pleasure. Something inside you exploded, making your body shake in ecstasy.

“Y/n.” You both whispered your names, pleasure taking over your minds.

“May I kiss you?” There was no response from him, his length still pulsating inside you. “If you don't want to that's-”

“Kiss me.” Your lips came closer to each other, barely millimeters away when a loud knock abruptly interrupted the moment.

“Miss y/n, Mr. Seo is here to see you.” Johnny, you'd completely forgotten about him.

“I guess you better get dressed.” He pecked your cheek, setting a fire inside you.

“I'm sorry.” He helped you put on your dress again, smiling at the sight of you trying to stop your and his essence from dripping down your bare thighs.

“Don't be.” Ten fixed your hair, proceeding to gather his stuff before sending a wink in your direction. “I guess I'll see you in a week to help you get dressed...my lady.”

[amphibious-entity]

TMBS Book 1 Brain Dump

~An Embarrassingly Long Post~

I don’t know why I’m writing this or why I’m so determined to do it. Maybe to finally assume my true form and become a mega dork on main, or maybe just for fun!

This is basically a compilation of all the main points running through my head after reading The Mysterious Benedict Society (2007) for the first time. Rather than posting a ton and spamming the tag, everything’s here in one neat package! (hopefully this gets it all out of my system rip)

Contents:

The Book Itself

The Book Itself, for real this time

The Characters

A Funny Parallel

The S.Q. Section

Lines & Scenes I Liked

Spoilers abound!

The Book Itself

Upon acquiring the first three books (don’t judge me pls), I was surprised at just how long they are. Like, they’re still pretty light being paperbacks and all, but these books are hefty lads.

The first book has this Disney+ Original Series circle thing printed on it, which is kind of unfortunate. Regardless, I love the cover illustration and yellow is actually my favorite color :D It made me weirdly quite happy whenever I saw the book lying around in my room

Also, it’s really cute how there’s a letter from Mr. Benedict at the end! (It only reveals that you can find out his first name if you “know the code”, meaning the bit of Morse printed below the summary on the back.) Shock and horror, though, as I realized I’m starting to recognize some of the letters

The Book Itself, for real this time

It’s wonderful how the tone of the book really shone through to the show adaptation. Something about the deliberateness of the aesthetic, from the set designs to the fashion to scene compositions, that really sells that particular style— like it’s very clear that this story is being told to us, rather than one we’re seeing unfold, if that makes sense.

Where that narration style stood out to me the most was the first chapter. We are told (rather than shown) how Reynie gets himself to the point of the second test, and there’s this whole twisty time maneuver for that whole sequence of events that’s really interesting

A super secret fun fact about me is that I wanted to be a writer when I was younger! So this particular balance of show vs. tell is really neat, since it runs counter to my own tendencies. The sheer amount of commas in every sentence is also kind of comforting, since Ahah, I Do That in those few serious-ish attempts at writing lol

Overall this book’s style reminds me a lot of Roald Dahl’s books, which are very nostalgic for me :D The whole “kids are more competent than adults” angle helps a lot too haha

The Characters

Oh boy here’s where I get a little bit critical! Overall I did really like this book!! it’s just that that expresses itself in all this weird “”analysis”” lol

Reynie - much better in the books than in the show

It’s sort of a lukewarm take but I feel like show!Reynie is kind of boring? He doesn’t have a lot going on flaw-wise, and obviously since he’s the protagonist he can’t have too many weird traits or else the kids watching can’t project themselves onto him as easily

(I call it the difference between an aspirational protagonist and a vessel protagonist. Going off of the Roald Dahl vibes, think Matilda vs Charlie. show!Reynie is more of a Charlie)

Thus when we get to see him really struggle with the Whisperer and doubt himself it gives him a lot more dimension, at least in my opinion

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

Sticky - my son

I’ve long held to no one besides myself and my long suffering sister that Sticky is The Best Member of the Society

He happened to hit a lot of the Bingo squares of Stuff I Like In Characters: glasses, anxious, nice :), kind of a coward but ultimately is there for his friends, etc

For some reason I don’t talk about him nearly as much as you-know-who, but I love him just as dearly

Kate & Constance - I don’t have much to say

Kate is really interesting in this book! I like how we get to see more of her depths, in particular that one passage about her belief that she is invincible being the only thing that keeps her from falling apart? :c

Also her constant fidgeting is relatable lol

Constance is somehow a lot more tolerable in the book. I think I’m just one of those people with no patience for small children, unfortunately lol

(Some of) The Adults

It’s interesting that they had such an offscreen presence for most of the book. Giving them more time was probably one of the stronger changes of the show

However if that decision was made at the expense of the white knight scenes I think the choice should have been clear

I like the way Rhonda and Number Two are written

Milligan always on sad boy hours 😔✊

The “mill again” passage is touching but kind of messes up the pacing of the getaway, at least for me. Maybe I should read it again to make sure I didn’t miss something

Miss Perumal is much better in the show. We see so little of her in the book she doesn’t function well as an emotional anchor for Reynie, imo

The Institute Gang

Jackson and Jillson serve their purpose well, and Martina was surprising to say the least. I like the direction they took her in the show! I can’t imagine how funny it must have been to watch the tetherball subplot come out of nowhere lolol

These sections were written out of sequence, so random tidbit I couldn’t fit in The S.Q. Section: I like how he stumbles over his words. relatable

Mr. Curtain

While I think I know why they decided to not give Curtain the wheelchair in the show, we were totally robbed of Actor Tony Hale’s performance for the reveal during the final confrontation

Speaking of the wheelchair, it’s such a powerful symbol of his need for control or rather, his fear of losing it

The Contrast between him and Mr. Benedict. This point is expanded on in A Funny Parallel

Mr. Benedict

Oh boy, Mr. Benedict… How do I say this

I find it hard to trust Mr. Benedict, unfortunately

I mean to say, I do in the sense that I know he would never hurt the kids, thanks to knowing that a) this is a children’s book series and b) the meta (tumblr) states that he is really nice and lovable and stuff, but seriously. Why do the kids trust him at first?? I probably missed something somewhere

I like to think I’m an optimistic person, but unfortunately I’m also super paranoid. The premise of “a bunch of vulnerable orphans team up with a strange old man” is just so odd to me I don’t know how to explain it

I don’t know!!! I really want to trust Mr. Benedict

One of the strengths of the show is that we get to see him more often, and thus he gets to acknowledge more often that the plan is weird and that he feels really badly for putting the kids in danger and that he’s trustworthy and genuine

But his lack of presence for most of the book just makes him into something of a specter, invisible and unknowable, speaking only in riddles from across the bay

Which is why the white knight scene is so important!! I loved that scene ;-;

Because here’s an actual emotional connection! We can actually see it happening, rather than only being told that it exists

Reynie asking for advice and receiving encouragement, in words that demonstrate that Mr. Benedict actually cares about him and worries about him and agghh

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

But overall this whole issue didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the book at all! It’s just ->

A Funny Parallel

Okay, ready for my biggest brain, hottest take ever??

Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain…. are… the same

I mean obviously not entirely, given that one is benevolent and kind and the other is… Mr. Curtain

But seriously. Genius old man seeks out children (mainly orphans) to enact a plan. Said children often end up incredibly devoted to his cause and deeply admire him this is a little flimsy

Undoubtedly that’s intentional and is supposed to show the difference between them, like some kind of cautionary tale? “Let yourself be vulnerable and let others help you, lest you turn eeeeviiillll”

I guess that’s where the aforementioned epic contrast comes in. You get Mr. Curtain, strapped into his wheelchair and hiding behind those mirrored sunglasses, terrified (but unwilling to admit it) of ever showing the tiniest hint of vulnerability, vs. Mr. Benedict, who can let himself fall knowing that someone will catch him :’)

Anyhow I have nothing against the parallels, I just think it’s funny

The S.Q. Section

The S.Q. Quarantine Thread so it doesn’t leak out everywhere else <3

I’d like to meet the emo angstlord genius who read this book and decided to make SQ into Dr. Curtain’s son. What in the world

Okay I should probably preface this by saying that I absolutely adore both book!S.Q. and show!SQ with all my heart. Somehow, despite being a completely different character in both mediums, he has managed to be one of the best characters in either and certainly one of my favorites (besides Sticky of course) in the entire franchise, despite the fact that I’ve only read the first book/watched the show so far. I am confident in this statement.

But seriously! How?? Why?? I could probably write a whole other essay about why show!SQ is such an interesting character, and the change works so incredibly well. I’m just. Baffled

Okay, focus. book!S.Q. is such a sweetheart, oh my goodness. Like, 100% one of the most endearing characters in the book. Poor guy. I don’t even know where to start!!

He just seems to be a genuinely good guy at heart, despite being technically one of the bad guys. He’s genuinely happy for Reynie and Sticky when they became Messengers and helped Kate when she “fell” and was concerned about Constance when she looked sick and how he was in that meeting with Mr. Curtain and Martina?!!? aaahhhhghgh ;-; he just wants people to be happy TT-TT

Comparing him against literally every character at the Institute is probably what makes him so endearing tbh. When everyone else is so awful to the kids, it really makes him stand out. Like a cheerful little nightlight in the worst, most humid and rank bathroom you’ve ever been in

It’s kind of pointless to theorize about a book series that’s already concluded (I think?) but. Is the implication of S.Q.’s forgetfulness supposed to be that Mr. Curtain used him in brainsweeping experiments somehow? The timeline probably definitely absolutely doesn’t line up but like. How did he get to being a Messenger being the way he is now, given how cutthroat the process is? And then of course Mr. Curtain keeps him around as an Executive because he’s fun to mess with and presumably his loyalty. I’m very curious as to how their relationship develops in the other books, if at all. Those are probably where the seeds of the “let’s make them family” logic were planted

But wouldn’t it be hilarious if the reason we don’t know what “S.Q.” stands for in the books is that he just. Forgot

Another thing that occurred to me. Given that he and the other Executives were Messengers at some point, what were their worst fears? What is S.Q.’s worst fear?? Inquiring minds need to know

One last horrible little anecdote: I was thinking about book!S.Q. while eating breakfast, as one does, and suddenly it hit me.

I want to believe The Author Trenton Lee Stewart had the name for a character, S.Q. Pedalian, and was like, “Hm! What sort of quirky trait should this young fellow have?” Because, of course, in this style of fiction every character has to have at least one cartoonish or otherwise distinguishing trait to stand out in the minds of children. (For instance, Kate has her bucket, Sticky has his glasses, Constance is angry, and Reynie is Emmett from the Lego Movie)

Anyhow, he looks around the room, searching for inspiration. Suddenly he comes across a jumbo box of plastic wrap. Completely innocuous in design, save for one line of text. 300 SQ FT.

“…large… S.Q. …feet? THAT’S IT!” i’m sorry

Lines & Scenes I Liked

In no particular order!

Sticky quotes Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Evil combination aerobics/square dancing in the gym with the Executives

Everyone being happy at the end :’)

Everyone partying after Sticky reunites with his parents, and later finding Mr. Benedict asleep at his desk from the moment they shook hands :’’)

Literally any scene with Sticky in it

Any time Kate says “you boys” or “gosh”

[“Um, sir?” S.Q. said timidly, raising his hand. “A thought just occurred to me.” / Mr. Curtain raised his eyebrows. “That’s remarkable, S.Q. What is it?”] clown prince of my heart </3

S.Q.’s determined monologue about searching for clues after he bungled up the first time

Literally any scene with S.Q. in it (please refer to The S.Q. Section)

Reynie trying to resist the Whisperer.

[Let us begin. / First let me polish my spectacles, Reynie thought. / Let us begin. / Not without my bucket, Reynie insisted. He heard Mr. Curtain muttering behind him. / Let us begin, let us begin, let us begin. / Rules and schools are tools for fools, Reynie thought.]

NO MORE HURTIN’ WITH CURTAIN

Milligan showing up on the island!!

Remember the white knight hhhhhh

“controle”

A Super Secret Bonus Section

I would be extremely surprised if anyone read through all the way down here lol. Regardless, here’s a little acknowledgements section :D not tagging anyone since I don’t want to bother all of these people

Special shoutout to tumblr blog stonetowns for unknowingly yet singlehandedly demolishing my reluctance to read the books by posting a ton of cute quotes. Thank you for your service o7

Thanks to the two OGs that liked the post I made right before this one, for being my unwitting enablers and for sticking around despite being a) technically an internet stranger (hello!) and b) someone I haven’t spoken to irl in literal years (hey!!)

Last but not least thankz 2 my sister for putting up with me ranting about the book when I first got it and for asking about “CQ” sometimes lol. (i desperately hope you’re not reading this orz)

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Game Master Akuma AU by  crisisdparity

Xavier Duchamp was rather proud of himself. What he had before him was an absolute masterpiece of a campaign if he did say so himself. The product of over six months of study, research, and rebalancing efforts followed by two weeks of discussion with his five players to hash out schedules, meeting times, characters, backstories, potential character arcs, and getting them set up with a messaging app that was really good for sending discrete messages between the GM and the players. Valentine and her boyfriend Justin were onboard in an instant. Within days, he’d greenlighted their Half-Elf Bard of the College of Glamour whose spell list was 100% Illusion spells and Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) who was focusing entirely on Abjuration as Rena Rouge and Carapace respectively. Olivia had spent a few days coming up with a Halfling Rogue and debating subclasses with him until settling on Scout. Along with some discussion over how her special magic item’s stunning and paralysis effect would work with Sneak Attack, the campaign had its Vesperia. Jeanette had gone back and forth with him for a week looking at various homebrew subclasses for her Gnome Artificer before they both agreed on one particular Master Tinkerer entry that would be balanced and do the character justice. And with that they had their Ladybug. Even Matt was on board with a stealthy human Chat the Barbarian using the Path of the Beast. The class choice was something Matt had insisted on (and that Xavier would have suggested anyway just for the high hit point totals given Matt’s history with characters dying) and he’d even come up with a backstory that Xavier felt was quite compelling compared to Matt’s usual efforts. Morally ambiguous, likely to be tempted by promises of power, but with a great deal of story potential to work with. Which was a relief. Getting a new player into their group to replace Matt was not something Xavier really felt comfortable with. There were too many unknowns with introducing a new person, far too many for him to risk his masterpiece on an unknown factor. He knew Matt. He could work with Matt. Despite the history. He’d put everything he had into this. Every known Akuma ever fought by the heroes had been made into a boss-tier foe. He’d carefully documented each and every power the heroes had shown to craft special legendary magic items based on the Miraculous. Hawkmoth and Mayura themselves were going to be the final bosses of his campaign. In response to criticism about the difficulty of his campaigns (he tried to make them fair, but still challenging enough to be memorable), he’d made several guest NPCs based on every other hero that had ever been called upon, statted out like player characters that might show up in a pinch to help. He even had a genuine Deus ex Machina that he was ready to use to get the players out of a truly impossible jam if they found themselves in one. Not always, but a few times at least. Enough to get them to the point where they wouldn’t need it anymore. —– It was thirty minutes in, right in the middle of exposition from the Guardian NPC, when Xavier got his first message on the app. Matt/Chat - Chat’s going to wait until everyone breaks up and follow Ladybug stealthily. Xavier/GM - Starting party conflict on the first session? Not what I’d advise, but it’s your character. Go ahead and make your Stealth roll now. Matt/Chat - <photo> 17 Xavier/GM - Yeah, that beats everyone’s passive Perception easily. You’ll sneak off handily without anyone noticing. —– “Jeanette, Ladybug is grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant. Roll to resist the grapple.” “Geez, already? Okay, what did my assailant get for their grapple? How screwed am I?” Xavier pretended to roll a die while consulting the message from Matt. “19.” “Okay, difficult, but not undoable… Crap.” “What’d you get?” “Nat 1…” “Hah! I rip off her earrings and claim them for myself! The Wish is mine!” “Seriously Matt?! What the hell?!” “Because it’s payback time! Payback for every character of mine killed in these hellish

campaigns!” “Oh, come on! You’re not the only person whose had a character die at this table! <GM> runs some pretty challenging campaigns, but they’re always fair!” “What about the time he killed Allric the Allmighty in a single round of combat?” “Dude, you tried to Leroy Jenkins straight into melee with a 4th-level Wizard that had a CON penalty. Even at full health you had like 10 hp.” “14!” “Not much better, dude.” “Guys, it’s fine. I can handle this. Okay, Matt. Chat the Barbarian managed to get the earrings-” “Yeah, Ladybug screams bloody murder when he rips them out. Good luck getting out of this in one piece.” “The moment Rena hears Ladybug scream, she bolts for the sound.” “So does Carapace.” “Vesperia too.” “-and with their current locations and movement speeds, I assume you’re all using the Dash action?, you’ve got maybe one round to decide on your Wish before they’re all over you, so choose carefully. And be aware that I plan to grant whatever you wish for in the worst possible way, just as I would if any of the others pulled this.” “Rena screams ‘What the HELL, Chat?! We’re supposed to protect the Miraculous, not use them for our own selfish purposes! Didn’t you listen to the Guardian? Such actions always bring misfortune upon those who misuse the Miraculous!’” “Because I am Chat, avatar of Destruction and I WISH THIS WORLD NEVER EXISTED!” There was dead silence at the table. “Matt… What… just… WHAT?!” “Hah! You like that?! How does it feel now that the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?!” “What the hell is your problem, Matt?!” “My problem? MY problem?! Do you know how much time I’ve spent making characters for these shitty campaigns only to have them turned into paste in one session?!” “Because you made primary spellcasters and played every last one of them like a barbarian, charging in headfirst without thinking! All of us breathed a sigh of relief when you revealed that your character finally matched your playstyle!” “I HATE BARBARIANS! THEY’RE BORING! I SHOULD GET TO PLAY CHARACTERS THAT CAN AT LEAST CHUCK FIREBALLS!” “THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP RUNNING THEM FACE FIRST INTO ENEMY SWORDS!” “NONE OF YOU COULD EVER HANDLE THE FACT THE I MAKE MORE AWESOME CHARACTERS THAN ANY OF YOU, SO YOU JUST LET THIS DOUCHEBAG KILL THEM OFF SO YOU WOULDN’T GET OVERSHADOWED BY HOW AMAZING I AM! WELL NOW I KILLED SOMETHING YOU ALL WORKED HARD ON, SO SUCK IT! I’M DONE WITH ALL OF YOU FOREVER!” “MATT! HEY! GET BACK HERE YOU JERK! MATT!” “Crap, I think Olivia might actually kill him this time…” “It’s going to take all of us to stop her from getting arrested at least.” Xavier just watched numbly as the rest of the group ran out of his apartment. Over six months of work. Gone in less than an hour. He’d given so much to making sure this would work. He’d apologized to Matt at least twice for every character of his that had died to get him to come back. He’d agreed to demand after demand just to keep a familiar face on board, never dreaming he’d pull something like this. He’d nearly gotten fired from his job trying to rearrange his schedule to fit with everyone else’s. They’d somehow, miraculously, gotten the whole day with no other obligations among any of them and decided to make the first session a true marathon. They’d meet in the morning after breakfast and eat both lunch and dinner at the game table before calling it a night late in the evening. It was barely 10:00 in the morning and the whole campaign he’d slaved over for months was kaput. He never noticed the butterfly landing on his custom Miraculous-themed Game Master screen and being absorbed into it. “Game Master, I am Hawkmoth. Few people appreciate the kind of effort that goes into making something truly grand and memorable. I shall give you the power to bring your entire world to life and in return, I ask only for a few simple things.” This was wrong. Hawkmoth was the worst of the worst. The kind of person who would be at home among all the final bosses he’d ever made for his campaigns. Heartless, manipulative, cruel. “Not

enough? Ah, but what is a game without players? How would you like to have the Miraculous heroes themselves run your great campaign? Surely they would be far more appreciative than those ungrateful peons that left you alone with nothing but the broken remains of your efforts.” He knew all these things, but the allure of bringing the world he’d spent so much time on to life… What creator could ever turn down an offer like that? “I, the Game Master, accept… Hawkmoth.” “Excellent. And in exchange, you shall bring me one of two things: The Miraculous, or the identities of their wielders.” “No.” Hawkmoth was silent for a moment. “I beg your pardon?” “I said no. I am the Game Master. I make the world. I craft the challenges. I decide the rewards. But I do not do anything for anyone. If you want these things, get them yourself.” “If you refuse me, it shall be very unpleasant for you.” “No. As Game Master, I decide the limits of all powers within my realm. And I decide that you have none over me.” And with that, he unleashed his creation over all of Paris, drawing everyone and everything within into his sphere of influence. —– Ladybug blinked the spots (ha) out of her eyes as the flash of light died down and looked at herself. She didn’t remember transforming, but she was clearly in her spots. Except her red and black superhero uniform didn’t usually look like it was headed to a steampunk convention. Looking around, she tried to figure out what had happened and her eyes landed on a familiar belt and pants combo. Problem. Whoever this was, their groin was at eye level for her. She looked up. And up. To find a grinning Chat Noir, sans anything resembling a shirt and having put on at least a foot of height and apparently a hundred pounds of pure muscle, grinning down at her. “How’s the weather down there?” Chat Noir chuckled as he flexed his unfairly attractive muscleman physique. “I WILL END YOU!” the heroine snarled, already 100% done with whatever new insanity Hawkmoth had cooked up. Characters: Ladybug - Gnome Artificer (Master Tinkerer - Homebrew) Chat Noir - Human Barbarian (Path of the Beast) —– Vesperia had to admit, as Akuma attacks went, this was pretty dope. She was currently a halfling. A halfling! If it wasn’t for her fantasy ensemble being yellow and black, she’d have thought she stepped straight out of Lord of the Rings. Of course, fantasy setting or not, there were still things she’d have rather left back in the real world. Like racism. And stigma against mixed couples. Not directed at her, but rather at the two walking down the street next to her. “You know, people are staring…” she said as she craned her head to look at her companions. “Let them,” the Half-Elf Rena Rouge (who looked like a cross between a musician and a belly dancer) said from her perch atop the shoulders of the heavily armored (and surprisingly buff) Half-Orc Carapace. “They’re just jealous because their boyfriends can’t carry them everywhere.” Characters: Vesperia - Halfling Rogue (Scout) Rena Rouge - Half-Elf Bard (College of Glamour) Carapace - Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) —– Ryuko blinked as she studied the apparent snake-man-thing before her who claimed to be Viperion. She lifted a hand to study it and found what appeared to be bronze scales covering every inch of her skin. She sniffed herself, smelling the sharp tang of ozone. What was she? And why did she appear to be wearing wooden armor? Characters: Ryuko - Dragonborn (bronze) Druid (Circle of Storms - Third Party) Viperion - Naga Sorcerer (Divination Magic - Homebrew) —– Polymouse giggled as her friends ran over her. Okay, she’d freaked out a little to find a swarm of mice (with hair like hers no less) crawling all over her surprisingly mouse-like body when she’d come to in the middle of some forest somewhere. But she’d gotten over it pretty quickly. It helped that her new friends were adorable. It might help more if she could figure out where she was. Or find another person. Characters: Polymouse - Kobold

(rodentlike) Ranger (Swarmkeeper - Reskinned) —– Purple Tigress sighed as she felt the hair (fur?) on the top of her head being shifted around and twitched her new catlike ears in mild annoyance. “Are you quite done?” “Almost!” Pigella’s cheerful voice answered. “Your fur is so comfy!” Tigress sighed. Of course Pigella would end up being a fairy, and having her normal cheerful enthusiasm cranked up to previously unimagined levels. “I love you dearly, but if you start shouting 'hey listen’ I will stick you in a bottle.” “Aw, I love you too! Hey, what’s that?” “I think it’s my character sheet?” Characters: Purple Tigress - Tabaxi Paladin (Oath of Glory) Pigella - Fairy Cleric (Order Domain - Reskinned) —– “According to my analysis, we have been placed into what appears to be a Dungeons and Dragons campaign under 5th edition rules,” Pegasus stated in a mechanical monotone. “I am apparently a Warforged Wizard using the School of Conjuration whose spells create portals to bridge dimensions and summon or banish my intended targets. You are what is known as a Simic Hybrid, with the class of Monk, following the Way of the Drunken Master.” “Aweshum,” King Monkey slurred, his generally human appearance clad in monk’s robes marred by his monkey-like hands and feet as well as the monkey tail swishing behind him. “Why do you keep slurring like that? According to my sensors, your gourd is filled with only water.” “Gotta keep up appearanshes!” King Monkey grinned as he continued faking drunkenness. Characters: Pegasus - Warforged Wizard (School of Conjuration - Reskinned) King Monkey - Simic Hybrid Monk (Way of the Drunken Master) —– Hawkmoth studied the dark red horns growing out of his head in the mirror. The change in appearance was disconcerting, but he felt a rush of power in this new form that he’d never felt before. “Hmm… perhaps I can work with this…” “Speak for yourself…” Mayura muttered off to the side, ruffling her peacock-like feathers in annoyance as she tried to glare at the beak on her own face. Characters: Hawkmoth - Tiefling Dark Lord, Warlock Patron, Contracted by Lila Rossi, Volpina, Queen Wasp, and many others. Mayura - Kenku Assistant to the Dark Lord, Creator of Monsters —– “Oh, come on!” A figure in a cyan and white hooded robe complained as they waved a similarly colored umbrella around angrily. “Everyone else gets to be part of this adventure, why can’t I join them?” “Because you’re too OP. You’d completely break everything and remove all challenge from the adventure.” “But sitting around is no fun at all!” “If you like, I can put you in the position of the main quest giver. Your job would be to direct them towards their enemies and means of becoming stronger.” “That’s it?! I’m on 'mysterious hooded figure’ duty? Boo! Why can’t I fight with them?!” “Because you’re too OP. But if you insist, I’ll allow some Deus ex Machina interventions.” “YES!” “Five.” “I’m sorry?” “I’ll allow five interventions at your discretion to aid them when they are in peril. Once you have come to their aid five times, I will allow no more meetings save to impart quest information.” “That’s it?” “Yes. Choose your interventions wisely.” “So… if I manage to save one for when they fight Hawmoth and Mayura in the final battle…?” “Then I would allow you to join them of course.” “Score!” Characters: Bunnyx: Mysterious Hooded Figure, Deus-ex-Machina (5) Game Master: Akuma Lord of the Miraculous Campaign —– Addendum When the Game Master is finally purified and the damage reversed, it turns out that he took the effort to trap all of Paris in a temporal stasis bubble so that no matter how long passed inside no more than a few moments passed outside. Meaning that after what seemed like months in the bubble, it’s basically less than a minute after he was akumatized when everything is put back. All his friends, minus Matt, come back in bringing a new person named Zack that they vetted themselves to take Matt’s place in case he pulled something like what he did. And while he

has a similar playstyle to Matt, he’s savvy enough to know what kind of characters that is suited for and he loves playing barbarians. They all sit back down and restart the game they were all looking forward to.

—-

oh wow- that’s- wow. good job dude, seems like you worked on this a lot. Next time You should post this on your own account though, as this isn’t getting tagged or anything. Thank you though, you did a good job with this.

[notchesandbullets]

Misunderstanding (Husband!Jae-ha x Wife!Reader)

"Jae-ha, could you please pass me the roasted duck?"

You were surprised when he flat out ignored you, choosing to drift over towards Yona. Raising an eyebrow, you slid over to where Yoon was watching the whole thing. He looked just as confused as you.

The Happy Hungry Bunch was spread out around an empty field, lounging around while the pretty boy genius cooked up some dinner. Jae-ha went off with Yona and you suppressed a sigh. Lately, he had become more and more distant with you, and it was starting to drive you a little crazy.

You both were young, even though he was older than you. A lot of people said your marriage wasn't going to last, but you didn't care and you thought he didn't either. Now, you were having second thoughts, the insecurities getting the best of you as you watched him flirt with Yona.

You knew that was just his nature, and that it was harmless. Mostly. But it still sent a turmoil of conflicting emotions inside of you, and you were unsure if you should even be feeling this way.

You pushed up off your feet, wiping your dirty hands on a damp cloth. Yoon gazed at you worriedly as you turned away from them, trailing after where Jae-ha and Yona had disappeared.

A giggle floated through the air, enabling you to find them easily. You crossed your arms and leaned against a tree, staring at them with narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me, Yona, may I talk to him for a moment?"

Yona nodded, just about to leave when Jae-ha stopped her.

"Why do you want her to go?" He questioned, mistrust swirling in the depths of his eyes.

Both your and Yona's eyes went wide with shock. He never took this tone with you.

"I would just like to talk to you for a moment in private, Jae-ha." You picked your words carefully. You didn't know why, but he looked ready to explode at any second. You had no idea why he was so angry.

"She can stay here."

Yona let out a squeak as Jae-ha tugged her back to his side, unprepared for the sudden jostle. A beat later, she was freed by none other than the Thunder Beast.

"Keep your hands off of her." He glared, making the threat obvious.

"Then don't touch what's mine!!" Jae-ha snarled.

At this point, you were completely confused and starting to get mad. "Jae-ha, you aren't making any sense."

"No?!?!" He thundered, whipping around to face you. You had never seen him this angry and it was terrifying. "You think I'm making this up!!"

You huffed. "That's not what I said."

"Yeah?! Well it sure sounds like it!!" His hands flailed in the air in frustration, and you instinctively whimpered, eyes growing as wide as saucers.

He didn't notice the change in your demeanor, but someone else did.

"Droopy-Eyes, knock it off."

Jae-ha turned on him, kicking him harshly in the abdomen. Hak had been ready for it, but it still knocked the wind out of him. Jae-ha reached for Yona again, but that was a mistake.

He was shoved back harshly and Hak brandished his glaive with a feral gleam in his eyes.

"Touch her again. I dare you."

Jae-ha let out a growl. "You can't have them both!!"

You were shocked. You had never seen him like this before. You had never seen either one of them like this, they looked ready to rip each other apart at a moment's notice.

You couldn't stand it any more. You didn't want to fight.

You let out a quiet, reserved sigh. "Jae-ha... it's okay..."

His head whipped towards you and you took step back at the red aura emitting from him.

"Okay?!?! That's all you have to say?!" He yelled at you, continuing to raise his volume despite the way you flinched back, not registering your fear through the red haze. All he could think about was how he couldn't believe you didn't trust him, after all this time together.

After everything you've been through.

You had both saved each other from a life of despair and hopelessness. You brought out the light in him, and he brought peace to you.

You never thought things would come crashing down around you like this. Least of all, now, when it was so critical that your group stayed together.

Quickly, you walked away, praying that he wouldn't follow you. Today wasn't your lucky day. He stormed after you, completely furious with the way you were talking to him, how you were treating him.

"Stay away from her." Zeno demanded, no longer in the mood for games.

"You can't tell me what to do. She's my wife." Jae-ha declared.

Shin-ah stubbornly shook his head. The snarl painted on his features was nothing to take lightly. "Stay... away."

The low tenor shocked everyone, but Jae-ha wasn't deterred. "You can't keep me from her."

Hak stepped up aggressively. "Yes, we can. She's terrified of you right now. We're going to make sure she's alright before we let you anywhere near her."

At this point, Jae-ha finally took in your trembling appearance and he froze. The tears that stained your cheeks and your knocking knees hit him dead in the heart.

You were afraid. Of him.

Jae-ha couldn't believe he let it get this far. He ran into the tent you two shared as you were escorted away by the blue and yellow dragon.

Hak pushed back the flap of the tent once morning came. Jae-ha hadn't made an appearance once after yesterday's fiasco, and it was time to figure out just what was going on.

"Droopy-Eyes, what the hell were you thinking?"

As furious as he was for making you cry, he knew there was something else going on.

The green dragon might have been older, but over time, the former general had learned to read him like a book. There was something bothering him.

He was right.

Ryokuryuu was crouched on the ground, his back slumped and shoulders stiff.

Hak wouldn't be surprised if he had stayed like that throughout the night.

Jae-ha breathed out a heavy sigh, finally confessing, "I thought you guys were cheating on each other behind my back. I wanted to protect Yona, and maybe get back at you. Because no matter how much it hurts, I still love her."

Hak narrowed his eyes and then frowned.

"You're an idiot."

Jae-ha sputtered at the insult, but he wasn't finished. "You honestly think that we're sleeping together? Even though you're probably the only one who understands the depth of my feelings for Yona?"

Jea-ha was floundering to come up with a response.

"But you two have been spending a lot of time together, and yesterday at the market, you spent the entire day together. It's the first day she didn't fall asleep in my arms."

Hak crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes exasperatedly, a blush settling across his cheeks.

"Jae-ha, she was helping me pick out a ring for Yona. She was helping me figure out how to propose." Hak explained quietly. "I wanted it to be perfect for her."

Jae-ha's jaw dropped to the floor, speechless.

"B-But— Y-You... I-I-I—"

"Yeah, yeah," Hak brushed off his excuses. "Just go apologize to her, will you? She's been crying all night."

Jae-ha left without a second thought and the ex-general followed soon after.

Your head was laying in Zeno's lap, and he was stroking your hair softly. Shin-ah was positioned near you, keeping watching out for any unwanted guests. His legs were criss-crossed, and Ao's fluffy tail was brushing under his ear once in a while.

When Shin-ah abruptly jumped to his feet, you knew something was wrong. Zeno's carefree expression was wiped off of his face and his eyes narrowed as the blue dragon snarled the second your husband cautiously entered the tent.

He at least had the decency to look apologetic, but you stiffly turned away from him, not ready to forgive him. His shoulders slumped and Shin-ah nearly growled. "Get out."

"Wait, please." Jae-ha begged. "Y/N."

"The miss doesn't want to see you right now." Zeno's voice had a light lilt to it, but there was an underlying warning that came with it.

"Y/N." Jae-ha whispered brokenly.

Your eyes softened, and you slowly turned around. Shin-ah looked about ready to throw Ryokuryuu out of the tent himself, but you shuffled towards him, pulling on his pant leg to get his attention.

"Shin-ah, Zeno, it's alright. Can you two give us a minute?"

The two dragons reluctantly left the tent, Zeno shooting you a worried glance but you offered him a reassuring smile.

Jae-ha settled down across from you, with respectable distance.

Your face was blank, but your eyes were puffy and the skin around it was rubbed red.

You had been crying.

He felt awful. He jumped to conclusions, and wrongfully accused you of things you didn't do.

"I don't deserve you."

Your head snapped up at his defeated tone.

"What?"

Jae-ha shook his head in regret. "I thought you and Hak were..."

You recoiled back in shock. "W-What?! No, you got it all wrong!! He's going to marry Yona, I was—"

He closed the distance between the two of you, cupping your jaw tenderly. Soft breaths fanned out against your face and warmed your skin soothingly.

"I know, I know. Hak told me what you were doing." Your eyes fluttered closed in relief. "I'm so sorry for assuming the worst."

Your hands reached up to cradle his face. "Come to me next time." You pleaded. "Talk to me."

He nodded furiously, finally pulling you in a tight embrace.

Relaxing in his hold, you didn't hear them come in.

"Yay!!" Zeno cheered.

"Is everything okay?"

Yona's worried voice floated through the air, breaking the two of you apart. You smiled at your husband, weaving your fingers together.

"Yeah... we're alright now."

Jae-ha leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss and you melted against him.

Yona cooed at the display and Hak pretended to barf.

"Lunchtime, you rare beasts!!" Yoon shouted from outside.

One by one, the dragons, the princess, her bodyguard all filed out of your tent obediently. As he dished out the portions, you shared a look with Jae-ha as Hak fumbled with Yona's bowl.

It would be awhile before he got down on one knee, since their journey took precedence, but you couldn't wait to see it.

After all, You thought to yourself as Jae-ha pulled you against his chest, curling his arms securely around your waist. Despite its ups and downs, marriage is worth it.

[psalloacappella]

SSM21 Day 2. Festival

Pairing:  SasuSaku  Prompt: Festival  Title:  sparks will fly, they ignite our bones Tags:  AU - Modern Setting; First Dates; Wooing Lips burning against his, mouthing soft words in the detonation din.

(In which Sakura has the better aim.)

Ao3 | twt | full series link | @ssskmonth

“It’sa real date this time.” Each word’s punctuated by Naruto’s fist punching his opposite palm, driving home the importance of this. This being:  Street stall smells rich and piquant, a smoky-savory blend; lights flickering in kaleidoscopic, neurotic brilliance; children wild as free foals escaping their parents, weaving in and out of adults’ legs clutching cheap prizes and sparklers —

and him, Sasuke, on an actual fucking date with a woman with cotton-candy-colored locks who has been besting him every game and measure of skill imaginable, and his dumb plus-one buffer, the best friend, now droning on about how he needs to win her something.

“Anything!” Naruto throws his arms up, dramatic and exasperated, the only gearsetting he seems to have. “Teddy bear, ugly fish, keychain — literally any shitty prize to show her yer not a complete waste of time.”

“Sasuke!” Both men snap to, pretending to have been watching the whole time as Sakura jumps up and down, pumping a fist in the air. “I won again!”

With shiny, wide eyes, she places both her palms out in giddy anticipation to receive a stuffed bear donning a baseball cap of the local (terrible) team from a surly booth operator with a permanent frown.

“She’s comin’ this way!”

“I can see that,” Sasuke hisses. “You useless idiot.”

“Did I hear ‘charming wingman?’ ‘Kay, I’m gonna find some food. Give you two some time—”

“Don’t say it—”

“Alone.” Some strange tone aiming for sensual manifests as choking pigeon, and Naruto skips away as Sakura bounds up to Sasuke, smiling so wide he can see every perfect tooth.

“Did you see?” So proud of herself, arms laden with prizes. Some she’s already given away to cute children passing by, perhaps the sole supplier of noisemakers and soft bears. For a doctor in pediatrics, the urge to make smiles comes second nature. “Where’s he going?”

“Food, or something,” Sasuke murmurs, trying not to look as constipated and irritated as he had ten minutes prior — another gem from Naruto’s unasked-for criticism. “He’s left us alone.”

“Finally.” Definitely slipped out by accident, and Sakura grumbles over her mistake, red prickling her cheeks and chest. “Not that I dislike him, of course—”

“I do,” Sasuke says, absolutely deadpan. It takes her a moment.

“Uchiha Sasuke, did you just make your first joke?”

Ears burning in the cool night air, it’s his turn to smother his embarrassment. In lieu of further slip ups, he awkwardly gathers the items in her arms, a mishmash of unidentified thingamajigs and whatnots that you only find in curio shops or carnivals, and gallantly takes on their burden.

“Walk with me?”

So sure his voicebox just sustained a hairline crack; he hates himself for being nervous.

Eyes, hers, brighter than all the psychedelic frenzy swirling around them both, caught up in the haze; she has the uncanny ability to fade the rest to black, toss the entirety of the world’s existence aside.

Seeking to link her arm with his amid the mess of wares won, she succeeds and presses closer.

“I thought I’d die waiting,” she whispers into his sleeve. “I’ve been wanting you to notice me properly all night.”

Meandering, conjoined, down the main road; carved out for the celebration, buffeted by snack scents and other couples, groups of friends, and plenty of pairs pretending they’re still just and only that. Along the way she unloads her many winnings, surreptitious, in part kindly trying to relieve his burden but also calculating the space in her single occupancy apartment.

She watches people and lights, and he watches her.

Sakura’s gaze snags on a particular booth, more specifically a particular prize. Of the stuffed variety.

“Did . . .  something catch your eye?” he asks. Immediately thinks he sounds like an idiot. You know how to woo ‘em, and why does his inner voice sound like Naruto’s on this date, goddamn it —

Burying her cheek into his shoulder, she giggles and it threads beautiful, stringed tension in his throat and spine, symphonic, testing its own flex to see if she can orchestrate the rest of him. He wishes he could spin her around, lift her high in some filmesque climax, kiss her in the closing credits.

“Don’t laugh,” she says, “but I love slugs. Adore them, really. Gross, I know!” She raises her free hand and points directly at a giant stuffed slug on a high shelf behind the booth’s counter. “And honestly, I’d likely keep it in my office; the kids would love it.”

Sasuke knows, from what she’s disclosed, that these are sick kids, too. This ancient, gendered mating ritual is unavoidable and he’ll have to rise to the challenge. He must provide. Stupid, because she outstrips his earnings and likely will the rest of their life.

Says it like a throwaway, like no big deal:  “I’ll have to win it for you, then.”

The game? Aim. Darts. Doable if he’s sober and with equally (un)talented friends; ranging from Shino the sharpshooter to drunk and stumbling Suigetsu, he’s decidedly somewhere in the middle, but it should be enough raw talent to beat a festival game.

Sakura’s eyes are on him, excited. She dances a little from foot to foot, ready to cheer him on.

Dropping the rest of the prizes on the ground and shoving a fistful of coins at the booth operator, he smirks. Born ready, all those forced childhood sports camps and instrument lessons finessing his hand-eye coordination finally stepping up to the plate.

Imagine failing miserably three rounds in a row, the last one bouncing off the dartboard so violently it narrowly misses the sleepy booth operator. Sasuke grinds his teeth, jaw tight, wishing it’d met its mark.

To Sakura’s credit, she’s completely unperturbed. Almost makes it worse.

She pecks him on the cheek, scoring him through hot and fevered where her lips touch.

“Performance anxiety,” she quips, but her smile isn’t unkind. “Let me give it a try.”

Each dart that lands in the board does so with gusto, embeds itself deep into the sisal cork. As each one hits, Sasuke reflects they might as well be piercing him. The most painful blow is watching her indicate the bluebacked slug, winning it outright without his help, and squeezing it half to death in her arms.

They’re walking again, sans the rest of her prizes — left them for the booth operator, and whatever kids wander his way wanting toys with which to annoy their parents.

“You’ve been so quiet,” she says, shifting her slug under one arm and linking up with him again.  Sasuke shrugs against her. “I’m not sure what’s next with us.”

 He stops, figures it’s better to rip that bandaid off now, give her an out so he can save some face. Of course they’ve stopped on some coquettishly romantic bridge, arched over the still summer pond, a popular viewing spot for the night’s end fireworks.

She watches him expectantly, searching him with her sharp green eyes.

“What do you mean?” Her question is slow, puzzled.

What he means to say is something gentile. Instead he says, “You’re great at darts.”

She seems to sway, a physical manifestation of being caught off guard. Laughs. “Surprised me too! But you gave my arms a rest, so they were ready to win.” Curls her arm to indicate muscle, grinning.

Steps closer, melting through an unseen veil of personal space. Cherry scent; smoke.

“Could be all the shots you administer.”

“I guess we can call jabbing kids with needles a calling.” Mirroring him, she steps in too, and there’s not so much space between them anymore. “Good practice. You could come around sometime, see my work.”

Another tiny shuffle.

It’s time to break this. Sasuke inhales deeply, letting it out in measured beats. “Sakura—”

“If you’re mad you couldn’t win this for me,” she interrupts, “you’re being silly. I don’t care about that, you know.”

He tilts his head, and in spite of himself his hand wanders, brushing a stray strand of pink out of her face. “Hm?”

“I don’t,” she repeats, and sets her slug down on the wooden bridge. Breathes deeply before saying in a low, threaded voice, “What I care about is all the waiting.”

Sasuke feels it all fall into place. Oh. Oh.

“So come on, Sasuke.”

And before she’s even finished saying his name he’s kissing her, the last vibrations of his name caught on their lips, locked, and though the timing is perfect and picturesque, film archetype material as the fireworks charge the air around them, each one set off drawing ripple designs in the water beneath them, this thrill is unmatched, the way she wraps her arm around his neck to taste him deeper, the way he lifts her up to rest him on his hips and there’s nothing, has never been anything, quite like this.

Real fireworks pale in comparison.

Lips burning against his, mouthing soft words in the detonation din.

“The perfect end,” she whispers, “to a festival.”

[gwendolynnderolo]

my thoughts on the lawsuit arc: my 911 hot take of the day

i know the lawsuit arc is one of the most controversial storylines in all of 911 and everyone has wildly different opinions on it so i’m here to offer my take on it. this is just my opinion and how i view the characters so enjoy!

first of all, i feel like a lot of times if people love a character they get mad when the character does something they don’t agree with or that they think is wrong or selfish or harmful. and while it can be very hard to see a character that you love do things that aren’t good, that’s what makes a character interesting. if a character was perfect and never did anything wrong, they would be incredibly boring and one-dimensional. but instead of looking critically at character choices and analyzing their motivations and accepting that they’re a flawed character with complex emotions they often just get angry and say that a storyline was dumb or didn’t make sense because it didn’t fit with their view of the character.

this is what i’ve seen a lot of people do with buck, bobby, and the lawsuit arc. they say that both of them acted recklessly and impulsively and handled the situation terribly, and i’m here to say: yes, they did, and that’s the entire point.

the entire lawsuit arc revolves around all of these characters making all the wrong decisions, but with very valid and understandable motivations behind those decisions. neither of them acted like their best selves because they weren’t being their best selves. they weren’t acting out of logic, they were acting out of raw emotion and that led them to make stupid decisions that caused a lot of pain. and that’s a good thing. (for the story, not for the characters obviously)

let’s first look at bobby, who arguably was the catalyst for this whole situation (technically it was the truck bombing, but i’m talking season 3). the end of season 2 sees bobby being forced to deal with his traumatic past and relive the deaths of his wife and children and all of the people in that apartment building that he felt responsible for. he has his title and job stripped away, he’s taken away from the thing that provides him with healthy coping mechanisms, and then he’s forced to watch from the sidelines while the man he thinks of as a son is trapped under a ladder truck that was intended to kill bobby.

obviously bobby gets his job back, buck survives, and everything’s relatively okay at the end of season 2, but bobby still has that guilt on top of the guilt he’s been dealing with for years over his wife and kids. beginning of season 3, bobby is tentatively ready to welcome buck back, and then he watches buck almost die in front of him (again) and, understandably, panics. he tells buck he’s not ready to come back and buck lashes out and quits.

bobby watches buck almost die yet again during the tsunami, which he almost certainly blamed himself for, feeling that if he had let buck come back to work, buck wouldn’t have gotten caught in the tsunami.

buck obviously comes around and takes the fire marshal job, which bobby viewed as a way to let buck do what he wants while still protecting him. bobby blames himself for everything that’s happened to buck in the past six months, so of course he’s going to do everything he can to keep buck safe.

so, bobby lied to him and kept him from doing what he loved, because he didn’t know another way to keep buck safe. the concerns bobby raises even outside of his personal investment are very valid: buck is on blood thinners, which would make it significantly more dangerous for buck to be on a call. bobby already worries about buck constantly and this would only add another level to that, and he has an entire team to look out for.

and the most important thing: bobby blames himself for everything that’s happened to buck. if he allowed buck to come back and buck got hurt, bobby would blame himself. bobby has already lost so much and still blames himself, and he doesn’t think he can handle another loss like the one he’s already suffered. his actions come from a place of love and concern for buck and his safety.

and now for buck. i relate a lot to buck so there might be a bit of projecting in here but i’ll do my best to keep it impartial. to start off: what buck did was stupid, impulsive, selfish, and ended up hurting everyone he cared about. but it also makes complete sense when you look at it from his point of view.

as viewers of the show, we see the complete picture. we see every point of view, all of the thought processes behind character decisions, so it’s much easier for us to judge characters for their decisions. but we have to remember: buck did not have the full story. buck couldn’t see into bobby’s head and understand that this was coming from a place of love and a desire to protect.

all buck saw was the people he cared about abandoning him and thinking he wasn’t capable enough to do his job. this wasn’t at all what happened, but from his point of view that’s what it seemed like. and when you look at the situation from buck’s point of view, this starts to make a lot of sense.

end of season 2, buck gets crushed by a ladder truck and nearly dies. in an instant, his job, his normal life, and everything he cares about is ripped away from him. his girlfriend breaks up with him (not blaming ali, she had her reasons) which was just another person that left him, so he feels completely and utterly alone.

in the 5 months between season 2 and season 3, buck worked tirelessly to get better and get to the point where he could get back to being a firefighter, which he views as his entire life and the only thing that gives him purpose. he finally gets to where he can come back, and it’s all ripped away from him again when he nearly dies (again). after the blood clot, bobby tells him that the higher ups don’t think he should come back yet because of the blood thinners. buck is still in a very emotionally raw state, so he quits.

buck is understandably miserable after this, he feels like his life has no purpose and he’s unable to do what he loves. and then: the tsunami. buck nearly dies (AGAIN) and also almost loses christopher, who he basically views as a son. buck feels like he’s failed eddie but eddie reassures him that he trusts him completely.

and now we get to the primary conflict between bobby and buck’s respective motivations. bobby’s decisions, at their core, were out of guilt. he felt responsible for buck being injured, so he did everything he could to try to make up for that and keep buck from being injured.

buck’s motivations, on the other hand, revolved around trust. he always felt like he could trust bobby and the 118 completely, and saw them as family, especially bobby. buck thought that bobby was on his side, that he wanted buck to come back as much as buck did. when he finds out that bobby is the reason buck can’t come back, he feels betrayed. he sees the decision as an indication that bobby doesn’t trust him, and that he didn’t trust him enough to tell him what was really going on.

another important thing: buck had every reason to believe that the rest of the 118 knew what bobby was doing and were also lying to buck. the only person who knew was athena, but buck had no way of knowing that. buck himself says that the 118 tells each other everything, so why wouldn’t he assume that hen and chimney and eddie all knew and also chose not to tell him?

in buck’s eyes, his entire support system (excluding maddie) is ripped away from him at once. the 118, his family, doesn’t trust him, they lied to him, and they replaced him. obviously none of this is true, but from buck’s point of view, it makes complete sense.

this also makes eddie’s conversation with buck after the tsunami take on a whole new meaning. buck’s best friend looked into his eyes and assured him that he trusted him more than anyone in the world, and now buck thinks that eddie has been lying to his face. if bobby can lie to him and eddie can lie to him, then he can’t trust anything he thought he could.

so, buck goes for the nuclear option. he doesn’t feel like he has any other choice because he doesn’t feel like he even has anyone in his life that he can depend on right now. without his family, his friends, and his job he has nothing, so he grabs the first opportunity he sees to get that back.

was it a good decision? absolutely not. did it end up hurting everyone he cares about and nearly costing him everything? yes. was it stupid and impulsive and selfish and a whole bunch of other bad things? also yes.

but that is why it makes sense. it’s a very human decision borne from very complex, human emotions, and so is bobby’s decision. these characters are deeply flawed and complex and sometimes do impulsive and selfish things and that’s what makes them interesting.

the lawsuit arc is a perfect example of two people who deeply care about each other making all the wrong choices in an attempt to protect themselves and the people they care about. and that is why i think it is an incredibly well executed storyline that added tremendous depth to both buck and bobby’s respective characters and their relationship.

hope you enjoyed my ridiculously long post of the day! let me know if you want to hear my thoughts on any other storylines because i spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about this show.

[btsslowburnfic]

Argument with Jin part 2

Part one found HERE

TW: infertility. Lots of people struggle with it, talking about it can help and I'm here if anyone needs an ear :) This is sooo much longer than a reaction but whatever. Enjoy this angsty/fluffy thing

Summary of part 1: Jin’s refusal to even go to the fertility specialist with you after 18 months of trying for a baby leads you,his wife, to walk out on him. ----------------

Jin sat on the couch stunned; crying on and off for the rest of the afternoon. He didn't want to call anyone because he didn't want his friends to know the two of you were fighting. Jin always kept up a cheerful front for the other members as the oldest member. He decided to try and get some sleep. Surely you would come back home after you felt better. He couldn’t bear to go back into the empty bedroom where the two of you had fought so he curled his long body up on the couch.

He woke up around 11 pm to a pitch black apartment. He resisted the urge to instantly start crying again.He took out his phone and texted you.

J: I’m so sorry. please come home.

He sat the phone down and went to get a drink. Mostly just to busy himself. He came back. Nothing.

J: Just let me know you're OK.

J: Please I love you. You don’t have to speak to me just let me know you’re safe or I won’t be able to stop thinking you’re dead in a ditch somewhere. Y/N: I'm fine. I got to where I'm staying. J: I love you.

He didn't receive any more messages from you the rest of the night. He tried to play League of Legends but he just kept finding tears coming down his face again.

He finally fell asleep for around two hours. He threw on some jeans, a shirt, a mask, and a cap and headed into the BigHit building. “Hyung, are you ok? You look sick,” Jimin said as soon as Jin walked in the door.

“I just didn’t sleep well. I’m fine,” he replied. Jimin wasn’t convinced but decided not to press the issue.

The men all started to filter into the studio for choreography practice.

Jimin walked over to Yoongi upon his arrival, “Is everything ok with Jin?”

“I think so. Why?” Yoongi responded as he sipped an iced coffee.

“Just go look at him.” Jimin replied.

Yoongi walked over to where Jin was sitting on the floor half-assed stretching.

“There’s fresh coffee in the lounge if you want some,” he said as he squatted down next to

Jin. Jin looked up at Yoongi, and his puffy and bloodshot eyes were a dead giveaway. “Rough night?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jin replied quietly.

“Fine fine. But remember, we’re here for you.” he patted Jin’s thigh and stood back up. He walked across the practice room and over to Jimin.“Yeah. he’s not fine. "

“What can we do?” Jimin said, always the sensitive friend.

“Nothing right now. He doesn’t want to talk about it so we shouldn't force him to. Text your girlfriend though. Sometimes girls talk about this stuff.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows.”good idea!” he pulled his phone out and sent a quick message.

Jimin: Hey...have you heard from [y/n]? We think Jin is sick but he’s still at work this morning. SexyCutie: Oh no :( I’ll text [y/n].

SexyCutie:hey [y/n]. Is Jin sick? He showed up to work and the other guys are worried.

You looked at your phone. Goddammit. You should have known. Your group of friends, the other group members and their significant others all talked to each other. It was only a matter of time before someone knew something was going on. You tried to decide if you wanted to be diplomatic or not. Sitting in your sweatpants, bloated from your period, and still very much pissed off, you declined taking the high road.

[Y/N]: he’s not sick. We’re fighting. He was being a dick. I left the apartment.

Jimin heard a chirp on his phone a few minutes later. He opened his mouth in surprise at the message.

SexyCutie: He’s not sick. He and [Y/N] got into a big fight and she walked out. Sorry ;-;

Jimin showed his phone to Yoongi who nodded his head in understanding. He was very familiar with these feelings, having argued with his wife about their insane work schedule all the time. He’d spent several nights on the couch and in the studio. However, Jin and [Y/N] had been dating and married for years. He didn’t even know the two of you to argue, let alone have the type of fight where you would just walk out.

The choreographer walked in, signaling that it was time to begin practice. Not surprisingly, Jin half-assed his choreography. His movement was slow, his arms all over the place.

“Jin, hyung, what is going on? We need you here.” Hoseok, ever the strict one with choreography, chided him.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll get it,” Jin responded.

They continued a few more times, and Jin only got worse.

Jungkook walked over and tried to make a joke with him about how he looked like a windmill on crack, but Jin just stood there, not laughing.

Hobi was about ready to rip into him when Yoongi walked over to him and whispered, “[Y/N] walked out on him.”

The color drained on his face. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, so just. You know. Let’s just get through today.” Yoongi said, asking for understanding.

“Yeah, ok. Let’s run it again,” he said, sparing Jin the criticism.

They ran through it again, this time with Namjoon getting ready to say something to Jin about his shitty performance. “Namjoon, can you help me with something?” Jimin asked.

Namjoon took his sights off Jin and walked over to Jimin, “Sure what’s up?”

Jimin caught Joon up on the situation as well. “Oh man. That’s Bad. Like real bad. She’s usually so nice and chill.” he put his hands on his hips and turned around to face the rest of the room. “Alright guys, let’s go ahead and break for lunch.”

The staff members and five of the guys head out to the cafeteria. Yoongi stayed behind with Jin, shutting the door. “You’re fighting with [Y/N]?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jin replied, sliding down with his back against the wall to a sitting position.

“Do you know where she went?” Yoongi asked, pressing the issue slightly.

Jin looked up at him, his annoyance clear in his eyes. “It’s no one else’s business.”

Yoongi let out a sigh. “I know you try and keep all of this to yourself because you feel like you have to be the happy and strong one. And I respect you a lot for that. But you can’t always keep stuff like this inside. If you don’t want to talk to me about it, it’s fine. But you should talk to somebody about it.”

“She won’t even text me back,” Jin said quietly, his voice beginning to crack.

Yoongi puffed out his cheeks. “So she’s really upset. Should she be?”

Jin tipped his head back up and looked at the ceiling. His silence said as much as his words could.

“I assume you apologized already?” More silence. “Give her a few days. She’s probably at your brother’s. She’ll come around eventually. You two love each other. It will work out.”

“No. I fucked up really bad this time.” Jin squeaked out, tears falling down his face.

‘It’s nothing the two of you can’t talk about.” Yoongi held out his arm, “Come on, you need to

eat. You have to take care of yourself.” Jin took his hand and got up, still not speaking.

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

You ignored the rest of the messages from Jimin’s girlfriend. You didn’t want to blast your marital troubles out there more than you already had. You sat there, snuggled under the covers in bed at Jin’s parents house. When you left you had planned on going to Namjoon and his wife’s house but then decided you couldn't handle being around their baby; too painful. It was the same with Taehyung’s very pregnant wife. And just last week Jimin’s girlfriend had confided in you that she was expecting. Ugh. You were very happy for all of your friends, but it was just too much right now. And so, you found yourself a mere 2 minute walk away from your own apartment. Fortunately for you Jin’s mom hadn’t asked you what the problem was when you showed up carrying your bags and tears in your eyes, she just hugged you and took your things to the guest bedroom saying something about how “marriage is hard work sometimes.”

You snuggled up to your fluffy baby RJ pillow. You missed Jin but you were just still so angry. You kept replaying the shitty thing he said to you, “Maybe you could get pregnant if you weren't so sad all the time.” Jin was hardly ever mean to anybody; but never you. Even when he was tired or stressed out, he never took it out on you. You had no idea what your end game was. You wanted a baby. But not without Jin. But if he wasn’t willing to go to the doctor with you then what were you supposed to do? It seemed like such a small thing to ask especially after the 18 months you had been through. You sighed and walked out to get yourself a drink of water.

----------

The rest of practice went well enough with all the guys’ knowing well enough to leave Jin alone.

The guys all started saying their goodbyes. Namjoon walked over to Jin. “You going home?”

“No. I’m staying at the dorm tonight. I just can’t.” Jin’s voice cracked. “If she’s still not home, I can’t...” he couldn’t finish as he started sobbing again. While he was at work he was able to push his thoughts to the side but now that he had to deal with the fact that he should be going home to you, and instead had nothing to go home to, he found himself unable to cope.

“Hey man. Seriously. Just talk to her when she’s ready. Whatever happened between the two of you, think about why it happened and what you can do to keep it from happening again.”

“She won’t even answer me,” Jin cried.

“Did you apologize for what you specifically did? When I’m mad, people just saying “I’m sorry” seems like a fast way out, like a way to bandage something rather than actually fixing the problem. Maybe start there and see what happens.”

Jin sniffled as Namjoon handed him some tissue. “Ok, yeah. I’ll try that. I’m sorry I was worse than normal today. You even danced better than me,” he tried to joke. Namjoon rolled his eyes and smiled, “Good luck, hyung. A good marriage takes effort.” Jin nodded and pulled out his phone.

Jin: I can’t go home knowing you’re not there. I’m staying in the dorms. I love you. I’m sorry I said it was your fault we can’t get pregnant. If I could take it back I would. But I can’t. Please know it’s not your fault. Truthfully,I’m afraid it’s my fault we can’t have a baby and it’s my pride keeping me from wanting to go to the doctor. That doesn’t excuse anything. I would like to talk to you about this more in person.

You looked over at your phone. Jin’s mom had coaxed you out onto the coach by baking cookies and the two of you were watching an older K-Drama. You picked it up and read the message. Fresh tears stung your eyes. You pinched them shut and the tears rolled down.

“Is that Jin?” she asked.

“‘Yeah.”

“I don’t know what he did. I’m sure it was bad if you left though. But, I know my son and I know he loves you more than anything. I also know sometimes his mouth moves faster than his brain.”

“I know.” you answered quietly. You sighed and took out your phone.

[Y/N]: I appreciate the apology. I can talk tomorrow after work. I’ll see you at the apartment.

[Jin]: Thank you Jagiya. I love you so much.

You put your phone back down and settled into the couch once more. His mom thankfully didn’t try to ask you anything about it. You had definitely lucked out in the in-law department.

Jin slept slightly better that night knowing he was going to see you tomorrow. But he still didn’t know exactly what to say or what he should do to make it better.

He heard the door to the dorm open and shut and then the coffee grinder. Jin put a robe on and wandered out.

“Yoongi-ah what are you doing here? It’s 2 in the morning.” Jin asked, his eyes adjusting to the lights.

“Couldn’t sleep. My wife is out of town. Might as well be here,” he shrugged and poured the coffee grounds into the machine. “What about you?”

“[Y/N] is still gone, but she agreed to see me tomorrow.” Jin responded, feeling more like sharing now that he knew he was going to see you again.

“Good, good. How are you planning on fixing it?”

“I don’t really know how. I was just so scared of her leaving me.” Jin admitted.

“Well, I hope you have more to say before you meet her tomorrow. Coffee?” Yoongi offered.

Jin shook his head. How on earth could Yoongi be drinking coffee at 2 am? “Yeah. I know. Ok. I’ll tell you what happened. But don’t tell anyone else.”

Yoongi blinked slowly, still not 100% awake. He wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. “Yeah, ok.” Yoongi sat down at the kitchen island as Jin told him everything. How you had been trying for a baby for 18 months, how each month you bawled your eyes out, how you wanted to see a specialist, and how he had completely shut it down.

Yoongi sat his cup down. “Make the damn doctor’s appointment.”

“What?”

“Go get your shit looked at so you guys can have kids. It’s not a big deal. Joon and his wife had IUI. You might not even need to do anything like that. Just go and get tested.”

Jin’s eyes bugged out slightly, “Really?”

Yoongi shrugged, “Yeah. Like you said, it’s no one’s business, but if it helps you get over this weirdness you have about it I’m sure you could ask him about it.”

“I just don’t want them to stick a tube all up in there,” Jin gestured to his lap area.

Yoongi laughed, “That’s a vasectomy you idiot. That’s like the opposite: when you don’t want kids”

Jin’s face grew red. “I knew that...I was talking about…nevermind.”

“Look, I’ll text Joon and find out the doctor’s name. Make the appointment, show [y/n] you’re serious about it. And even if they wanted to stick a damn needle up there, your wife has to give birth. Man up.” Yoongi clapped him on the shoulder and heard towards the studios, “I’ll text Namjoon and get back with you.”

Jin was still red with embarrassment, “Thanks Yoongi-ah.”

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

You walked a block over to your apartment, wondering if Jin was already there or if you would be the first to arrive. Your eyes had bags under them and part of you was so excited to see jin. It had always been like that; ever since you first started dating him. Every time he came home from practice, from the tours, or even from the corner store, you were so excited to see his face. You pressed your fob to the door and walked in, seeing Jin’s shoes by the door. You put your purse down and removed your shoes, quietly walking into the living room. Jin was sitting on the couch with a laptop and notepad sitting out, which was very un-Jin like. You hadn’t seen him look remotely studious since he finished his Master’s degree.

His eyes looked up at you and his face softened, “Jagiya.” He walked over and wrapped his arms around you. You allowed yourself to relax into them. “I’m so sorry,” you heard him say as his lips pressed against the top of your head.

You let yourself stay there for another minute. “We need to talk about this.”

“Absolutely, come have a seat,” ge gestured to the couch. Jin was being so mature and grown-up, it really surprised you. You were afraid he was just going to hug you and point out his handsome face and try to get you to laugh, but he was actually taking this seriously.

You walked over to the sofa and sat down, trying hard not to snoop at what was written down on the paper.

He sat down beside you and took your hands in his. “I was a total idiot the other day. What I said to you was mean and unforgivable. I meant what I texted yesterday. It was my pride that has kept me from wanting to see a doctor because it makes me feel less manly to think that you know...that there’s something wrong…” he fidgets uncomfortably.

“With your sperm?” you continue.

He nods his head. This whole topic is clearly very uncomfortable for him. His entire face is red and he can’t look at you.

“But. If we want children. And I do. I want children with you [Y/N]. A little you and me running around here. I know that I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry that things had to come to this for me to make that realization.”

You had started to cry a little bit. Jin made eye contact with you for a second and gently wiped your tears away.

“I love you so much. And I was afraid you were going to leave me. And I’m nothing without you [Y/N]. You’re my home. Everything I do is meaningless if you’re not around to share it with me. So please, forgive me and try to forget that I ever blamed you for anything. You have been nothing but kind and patient with me.” he brings your hands up and kisses them.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, afraid that if you talk louder you'll start sobbing and won’t be able to stop.

“So, I’ve talked to a few people and this here is supposed to be one of the top fertility specialists in Seoul. I thought about just making the appointment but I didn’t want to do that without getting your opinion since it’s such an important thing.”

You couldn’t believe what you are hearing, you are so happy. You started crying for a different reason, “Are you serious?” you ask.

“Rarely. But today, right now, with you, about having a baby. Yes. Now this Dr. Helped Namjoon and his wife out as well and he has a lot of extra certifications and….” Jin went on and on about this doctor and you gently slid up next to him, grabbed his face and turned it towards yours for a kiss.

“Thank you so much Jin.”

“I should have done this 6 months ago when you first asked me,” he shook his head.

“Better late than never,” you said as you snuggled into his side. The two of you started writing down questions to ask the office; finally on the same page about the next step in this chapter of your lives.

[rhys-writes-sometimes]

Music Worth Making Part 1: Bright Forever

Requested: nope!

Warnings: abuse, child neglect, shitty parents, death, food, terrible writing

Series Summery: When the reader’s life is ripped away from them, they’re distraught. But with her two best friends and three certain ghosts, maybe the afterlife isn’t so bad after all. 

Chapter Summery: The band Sunset Curve was about to have a life-changing concert when they ate some bad hotdogs and died. 25 years later, you’re best friends with the girl who discovers them. 

Words: 3,026 

A/N: This is pretty much just introducing the characters and their relationships to one another. Things will get more interesting in the next few chapters.Also, the reader is non-binary! <3 lyrics are italicized Part 2 ______________________________________________________

Hollywood 1995

“Don’t look down, ‘cause we’re still rising up right now, and even if we hit the ground we’ll still fly, keep dreaming like we’ll live forever, but live it like it’s now or never.”

The teenaged boys finished their soundcheck, earning scattered applause and even a “whoo!” from the employees working at The Orpheum that night. The band didn’t try to hide their smiles as they took a bow. 

“Thank you, we’re Sunset Curve!” one called out.

“Tell your friends!” another added. 

“Too bad we wasted the tightest we’ve ever played on a soundcheck,” one said as they set down their instruments. 

“Wait until tonight man, when this place gets packed with record execs.”

The boys all nodded, thinking of all the chances of fame they would have after that night.

“Okay, well, I’m thinking we fuel up before the show. I’m thinking street dogs?”

Two of the other boys liked that idea, but the other one had other plans.

Jumping off the stage, he started to make his way over to a young woman who was wiping down tables.

“Hey Bobby, where you going?” the one who had suggested they go get street dogs called out.

“I’m good!” he called out to his bandmates, then said to the girl: “Vegetarian. I could never hurt an animal.” 

“You guys are really good,” she said with a smile as the other three guys joined their band member at her table. “I see a lot of bands. Been in a couple myself. I was really feeling it.”

The guys all smiled. 

“That’s what we do this for,” one of them said. The tips of his chestnut colored hair almost reached the top of his shirt with cut off sleeves. “I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Hi, I’m Reggie.” Reggie had black hair and was wearing a leather jacket with a red flannel tied around his waist. An interesting combination, but somehow the outfit worked. 

“Alex.” A boy with blond hair spoke up from where he was hovering just to the side of the group, wearing a pale pink t-shirt.

“Bobby.” The boy who had first walked over to the girl had brown hair and a sleeveless jacket over a t-shirt. 

“Nice meeting you guys. I’m Rose.” The girl smiled at all of them again as Luke licked his finger and stuck it in Bobby’s ear. 

“Oh uh, here’s our demo, and a t-shirt, size beautiful.” Reggie handed Rose a CD and a t-shirt, earning a small groan from Alex. 

“Thanks. I’ll make sure not to wipe the tables down with this one.” 

“Oh, good call. Whenever they get wet, they just kinda fall apart in your hands,” Alex informed her.

“Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?” Bobby asked, clearly wanting to talk to Rose without the other three around. 

“Yeah.” Luke leaned closer to Rose, as if to tell her a secret. “He had a hamburger for lunch.”

-----

“Man, I can’t wait until we eat someplace where the condiments aren’t served out of the back of an Oldsmobile,” Alex grumbled as he put a pickle on his hot dog. “Hey, sorry, I got some pickle juice on your battery cables.”

“No problem. It’ll help with the rust,” the man cooking hot dogs said with a slight chuckle.

“That can’t….okay.”

The three made their way over to a couch to eat. Before they could dig in, however, Luke started speaking. 

“This is awesome, you guys. We’re playing The Orpheum! I can’t even count how many bands have played here and then ended up being huge,” he said with a slight chuckle. “Eat up, boys. ‘Cause after tonight, everything changes.”

They all bit down hungerly into their street dogs.

Alex was the first to notice that something was off. “That’s a new flavor,” he said, a small amount of worry creeping into his tone.

“Chill man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” Reggie tried to calm down his friend.

Luke hesitated for a moment, then took another huge bite.

-----

Los Angeles 2020

You made your way through the hallway, walking fast, faces pass, weaving around people as you tried to reach your locker. You smiled as you saw your two best friends waiting for you.

“Hey, underacheiver,” Flynn said in greeting.

“Hey, disappointments,” you joked back to them. “Okay, Julie, I know you don’t want me to ask, but have you figured out what you’re gonna do today?”

“I’ll know in the moment.” The frizzy-haired girl fiddled with her bracelets as she spoke, the only clue that she was nervous for her proformance later.

“Really, Jules? That’s all your giving us? Mrs. Harrison said-” Flynn was cut off from scolding one of her best friends.

“This is my last chance, I know, I was there,” Julie finished. Flynn smiled softly for a moment, but it turned to a grimace of disgust as she noticed a girl handing out flyers. 

“Ugh, what is she handing out?” she questioned.

“Desperation?” you said, only half joking. Julie and Flynn snickered. 

However, you put on a smile as the girl walked up to the three of you. 

“Here you go. My group’s performing at the spirit rally tomorrow. I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” she said, her eyes sweeping over you critically as she handed the flyer to Flynn. 

Flynn put on a bright, sarcastic smile. “Oh my gosh, Carrie, thanks!”

“Oh my gosh, Flynn, don’t bother coming!”

The three of you rolled your eyes at Carries retreating back. However, someone else caught Julie’s eye. 

“Nick?” you asked, looking between Julie and the blond-haired boy she was staring at.

“Still?” Flynn asked. “You know they’re gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.”

“Nick’s a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, you’d actually have to talk to him to know that,” Flynn said with a small smile. “And only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby.” 

You nodded your approval of this statement as Flynn called out “Demon!” in Carrie’s direction.

The three of you turned towards the lockers and laughed quietly. 

“There’s that smile,” Flynn said, lightly poking both you and Julie’s face. “Now come on, let’s go prove everybody wrong.”

You flinched slightly as she put her arm around you, but tried not to show it.

-----

“Okay, we have one last proformance,” Mrs. Harrison called out. “Julie.”

You squeezed her hand slightly as she stood up and walked over to the piano. 

She sat in silence for a moment, before saying “I’m sorry,” and running out of the room, with you and Flynn not far behind. 

-----

“I’ll be back to pick you up at 5:30. Have fun at practice, Danny!” you called out after your little brother as he ran to join the baseball team. This was a daily routine for you; drop Danny off at practice, go to Julie’s to study and eat, pick up Danny, go home and endure torture. 

You let your mind wander as you walked to Julie’s house, which luckily wasn’t very far from the sports fields. Walking through the front door, you let your bag fall to the ground as you went to go get something to eat. 

-----

A few hours later, you were walking back to the sports fields. 

“Hey, Danny,” you said once you saw him, ruffling the boy’s hair. “How was practice?”

You paid attention as best you could as he rambled on about what had happened that day, but if you were honest, you didn’t understand a thing about sports. You were just glad your brother had found something that made him happy.

You closed the front door as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake your father. You tip-toed into the kitchen to start making dinner, as you did every night.

“Olivia, is that you?” you mother asked. You winced. 

“Yes, mother,” you sighed slightly, afraid to tell her that you had changed your name to Y/N.

“Hurry up and get dinner started. My feet are tired from cleaning all day.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at the excuse that was very obviously a lie, your house was a mess and you knew you would be expected to clean it later, but you didn’t want to get in trouble. So you fell into a robotic sort-of motion that you had developed as a way of hiding your emotions and thoughts from your parents. 

Thirty minutes and one burnt fingertip later, dinner was ready and waiting on the table. 

“Wake up, Harold, dinner is ready.” Your mother shook your father awake. You knew if you tried that, you would be slapped across the face. By both of them. 

However, your father just sat up sleepily and lumbered over to the table. You stood over to the side as your family ate, not being allowed to join them. 

“Goddamned roast beef is overcooked again,” he grumbled. You blinked back tears. Such a small thing shouldn’t upset you, you knew, but it did. 

You endured the criticism on the meal you had worked hard to make from your mother and father for the next half-hour. Your father declared himself full and snapped his fingers at you. You whisked his plate away before taking your mother’s, too. She never ate after he finished. You took Danny’s too, but only because you knew that your parents disapproved of him still eating. 

“Hey,” your father said, his voice already low and dangerous. “Give your brother back his plate. He wasn’t finished yet.”

You set the plate back down, nodding and shaking slightly. “My apologies, father.”

“Don’t appologize to your father, appologize to your brother!” your mother exclaimed, grabbing Danny’s hand from across the table and giving it a squeeze. 

“It’s okay, really, I was done,” he hurried to say.

Your mother frowned at him. “Are you sure, darling?”

He nodded. 

“Well, okay then…” she said, still frowning slightly. “You may be excused.” 

He ran off to his room. You took his plate. 

Heading back to the kitchen with a small sigh, you started making a meal for yourself out of what was left, leaving enough so that your family would have leftovers. 

You ate silently, thinking about how nice it would be to have a caring family. Of course, Danny cared, but he was too young to stand up to your parents, and you never wanted him to have to. You would protect that boy at all costs.

Holding in a sigh, you cleaned up from dinner, and then pulled out the duster to start to clean the house. You were stopped, however, by your mother. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I- I’m cleaning the house…”

“Didn’t you hear me say earlier that I cleaned it? Are you insulting my cleaning job?”

“N-no, I-”

“You what?” Without waiting for an answer, she slapped you across the face. You struggled to remain emotionless; your face stung. 

You thought it was over, but then your father joined in.

“What’s this Jennifer? Is Olivia insulting your hard work?”

“It’s Y/N…” you muttered quietly. Your father overheard and put his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“As long as you’re living under my roof it will always be Olivia. And even if you could change your name, that doesn’t change your gender, freak,” he spat. 

“I know,” you whispered. 

He slapped you.

“Don’t talk back to me.”

Blinking back tears, you stood still as they walked away. Eventually, you remembered the duster in your hand. Placing it back on the shelf, you walked back up to your room, hoping you would be able to escape them for the rest of the night.

-----

The next morning as you and Danny were walking to Julie’s house to go to school, you heard something you hadn’t heard in a long time: music. Julie was singing. 

“Wake up, wake up, if it’s all you do, look out, look inside of you, it’s not what you lost, it’s what you’ll gain raising your voice to the rain.” You smiled. It had been so long since you last heard her voice, and her music was a gift to the world. 

You walked into the studio alone, Danny having gone to talk to Carlos. Julie looked up with small tears in her eyes, seeing you standing there, smiling. She smiled back. 

“It’s so nice to hear you play again.”

Julie smiled wider. “Thanks.”

Just then, Flynn burst in. 

“Carlos told me you’d be out here. We need to talk.” She crossed the room to where the two of you stood by the piano. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, noticing the tears running down her face. 

“No, I’m not okay! One of my best friends just got kicked out of music! I’ve been up all night thinking about what I was gonna say. Might’ve drank seven sodas, but I need to get this out.”

“Wait, I have something to tell you-”

“No. It’s my turn to talk.” Flynn took a deep breath. “You can’t give up music. You’re music’s like a gift, that would be a tragedy. So you’re basically, like, cancelling Christmas, and I love Christmas!”

“Flynn-” you started to say, but she cut you off. 

“Uh-uh! I don’t know why you’re siding with her, Y/N. I know you like hearing her play.”

You knew Flynn didn’t mean to hurt you, but her words stung a little. You nodded once and retreated back into yourself slightly. Flynn was too emotional (and sleep deprived) to notice. 

“When we were six, we promised to be in a band together. Double Trouble!”

“I never agreed to that name,” Julie said, laughing slightly.

“That’s not the point. Jules, if you leave the music program, we’ll be apart forever. That’s just what happens. Sure, we’ll see each other in the hall sometimes, but we’ll have different lives, make new friends…” Flynn said the last part quieter. You could tell she hated the thought of losing one of her best friends.

“That’s not true,” Julie reassured her, but Flynn wasn’t finished.

“You’re right. I won’t be making any new friends. I’ll only have Y/N, and they’re amazing but I’d miss you Jules! And the only time we’ll contact each other is when we’re liking each other’s posts on Instagram. Every time I’ll be hitting that little heart, my heart will be breaking because one of my best friend’s left me, and… do you have any soda? My head hurts.” 

“Can I talk now?” Julie asked tentatively. 

“Fine.”

“I just played the piano and sang again. Y/N can confirm it.” You nodded when Flynn looked at you excitedly. 

“What? Why didn’t you just say so?” She asked, practically bouncing with joy. 

“She was trying to, but then your seven soda’s kicked in,” you answered with a small laugh. 

Flynn was grinning from ear to ear now. “I’m so happy for you! And me! And Y/N!”

You all hugged, but Flynn pulled away quickly, gasping. “We need to tell Mrs. Harrison that you can play so you can stay in school and my life won’t be that sad picture I just painted for you!”

You giggled as Flynn put her arms around both of you. “Y/N, our girl’s back. Double Trouble lives again!”

“Still not our band name,” giggled Julie. 

-----

“Did you end up getting back into the music program?” you asked Julie at the end of your study session for the day. She looked down at her shoes, and you knew what the answer would be before she said it:

“No. No I didn’t.”

You tried not to look too disappointed for her sake. “Oh. I’m really sorry, Jules.”

“It’s…” she sighed. “It’s okay. I can reapply next semester.”

You hugged her. 

“Oh hey, I almost forgot to tell you,” she said right as you were about to walk out of the door. “We decided not to move.”

Despite the news that one of your best friends was no longer in the music program, a smile lit up your face. “That’s great!” you said, pulling her in for another quick hug. Then you walked out the door, not wanting to be late to pick up Danny. 

-----

“Check it out, yeah we make ‘em say Wow!” Carrie bowed as her band, Dirty Candi, finished their dance number. You were at the spirit rally, saving a seat for Julie and Flynn, who were nowhere to be found. 

Suddenly Flynn plopped down beside you. 

“Oh hey, where were you?” you asked the girl.

She tried to blow a piece of hair out of her face, frowning slightly when it wouldn’t move. “I was in the band room. I wasn’t feeling very… spirt-y.” You both chuckled slightly. 

“Where’s Jules?” You looked around for the other girl, but couldn’t see her. 

As if in response to your question, music filled the gym as someone started to play the piano on the stage. You looked up to see Julie, alone on stage, with a spotlight on her. 

“Sometime’s I think I’m falling down, I wanna cry, I’m calling out, for one more try, to feel alive,” she sang, her voice echoing slightly as it filled the room. You smiled, happy she was singing again. 

Then suddenly, there were three boys on stage with her. 

“Whoa!” Flynn exclaimed.

“Where did those boys come from?” you asked in amazement. Julie seemed a little shocked that they were there too. One of them, the lead guitarist you guessed, started singing the second verse. 

“In times that I doubted myself, I felt like I needed some help,” he sang. 

“Whoa, he has a really good voice,” you said, your mouth hanging open slightly. 

You found yourself staring at him as the song went on. You could tell that he really enjoyed playing, and found yourself getting caught up in the music. 

“And rise, through the night, you and I, we will fight to shine together, bright forever!” Julie harmonized with the boys, finishing the song. You started clapping with the rest of the crowd that had gathered to watch, proud of your friend.

Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the boys were gone.  

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 11

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1531

Warnings: Language, Bullying Themes

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Eyup my Loves! so it’s been a while since I last added to the story, I tried my best to keep my writing similar to my previous chapters, let me know what you all think! any advice or constructive criticism is welcome :) I’ll shush now, enjoy!

(This is what I Imagine Annetta to look like :) )

So, in case you were all wondering, the day didn’t get any better. I mean I kinda knew that kids my age could be massive A holes to each other, but I didn’t really expect to see it literally the flipping second I ‘walked’ through the doors. And by walked I mean dragged by the duo known as my own personal demons, or Steve and Bucky to the rest of the population.  A crowd of kids were all gathered around a row of lockers, loads of the shitheads were cheering and encouraging whatever the hell was goin’ on, and as I was about to find out it wasn’t a surprise performance by Frank Sinatra. Safe to say that was a bigger disappointment that diet coke. Anyway, what was I saying ? oh yeah, stood at the front of the crowd were a bunch of lasses that couldn’t of been older than 16, in their hands was a bunch of eggs and flour. At the bottom of their feet, on the floor, was a kid around the same age as me, her glasses were snapped in half and the bottom of to shirt was ripped, but what disgusted me the most was the fact she was begging for help as these girls smashed egg after egg into her face. You know how bulls lose their shit when they see somethin’ red? Yeah imagine that but 10x worse, the lads didn’t have time to stop me as I tore through the crowd ready to beat the ever-loving shit outta these pricks.

“‘OI! WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT ARE YOU DOIN’”  the crowd fell silent as the girls turned to me with what one can only assume was supposed to be a ‘threatening’ glare, if I’m being completely honest it looked like they’d all simultaneously crapped em self’s. One of the girls stepped forwards, she was only a tad taller than me, her hair was a bright red, her green eyes were narrowed at me like she couldn’t believe someone was actually talking back to her. I think this is the part where I yell surprise right ? no? okay then. “Not that I care, but who the hell do you think you are? You got any idea who I am?” she sneered at me, oh my god! I’ve found someone with a bigger ego than Bucky. How in the hell is that possible. “well from first glance I’da said Santa Clause’s ex-wife but I reckon he’d have a better taste in girls now I’ve seen you up close”. And que the outraged gasps from her minions in 3,2,1…. I could hear a few people laughin’ and if I weren’t mistaken a very loud “Oh Jesus wept” from barney boy. Oooh yeah that’s when I know I’m doing my job right.

“YOU BITCH!” she screamed at me, her grubby little hands started swinging towards me in such an exaggerated way it was almost funny, I mean come on anyone coulda seen that comin’ from a mile off. And like the genius I am, I literally just side stepped her as she lunged forward,  an’ from the look on her face she weren’t expecting that, it was like the world slowed down as she surged forward unable to stop herself. Well that was till she landed head -first in the bin. I’d be a big fat liar if I said I wasn’t on the floor dying from laughter. Her legs were flailing above her head as she struggled to pull herself outta there, her cronies tried to help by grabbing her legs but that ended with one of em sporting one heck of a shiner on her right eye. A small sniffle pulled my attention away from the rather hilarious sight, glancing behind me I saw the young lass still on the ground, holdin’ her glasses which were in half with tears rolling down her cheeks. “hey, it’s okay now, they’ve gone. Here take my hand, lets get ya cleaned up eh? Reckon they’re be a bathroom round here somewhere”. The lass didn’t say anything to me, only looking at me with apprehension before taking my outstretched hand and leading us to the bathroom, the sound of the crowd growing quieter as we moved further away from it. “Thanks for saving me from Monica, she’s been bullying me since we were 11, nobody’s ever stood up for me before.” Her voice was so quiet, it shook from the effort it took her to hold back her tears, and I admired her strength, not a lotta girls woulda gone this long and not tell a teacher. “Don’t worry about it mate, I’m sorry it took so long for someone to defend ya, my names y/n by the way, don’t think we’ve met” her brown eyes met mine, as a small smile spread across her face, I couldn’t really tell what colour her hair was but I’m guessing it’s a shade a brown,  other than that she looked like a completely normal person. “My names Annetta, you’re right we ain’t met yet but I’m glad we did”.

-Later that day

It took us ‘bout 30 minutes to get all the egg off Annetta, best we could do was wash it off and cover up the stains with the cardigan I leant her, but what really put the icing on the cake was the teacher in period 1 yellin’ at us for being so late. The temptation to yeet my shoe at someone had never been as strong as it was in that moment, fortunately for the overgrown turnip of a teacher I had to settle for a mean ass side eye. And man was it a mean one.

Apart from that the day had gone by with no more incidents, well unless you count me chasing Bucky round the canteen with a carton of milk for stealin’ half my lunch, much to Annetta’s entertainment and Steve’s embarrassment. I mean the butthole deserved it, nobody and I mean NOBODY messes with my lunch. Even blue-eyed boys with a smile that could charm the devil….what am I sayin’?!

ANYWAYS it’s now what? 4th period I think, which meant English with Annetta, and maybe my favourite boys in the world. Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. Bet ya thought I were gonna say Steve and Bucky right? Well they’re currently sat behind me debating who’d win in a fight, Popeye, or Bugs Bunny. I’m surrounded by idiots. Thankfully, the teacher walked into the classroom and saved me, Mrs Davis seemed like a nice woman, she had a friendly smile and roundish face, her hair tied back into a neat bun as she took a seat. Now I’ll save you the boring bits, she started the lesson with a pop quiz which was just plain rude, about halfway through it the door burst open and there stood my best friend in the entire world. Monica. I have to say I loved her new style, the schools P.E kit really brought out the judgement in her eyes, did you detect my sarcasm yet?.

You wanna know what made her entrance even more dramatic ? the lovely aroma of gone off milk and rotted banana skins that followed her around the room,  I could help the smirk on my face as everyone around me started gagging at the smell. If you ask me I reckon it’s an improvement, I mean she certainly captures the attention of everyone in the room. Monica’s face started to match her hair, quickly racing over to Mrs Davis to give her the tardy slip before taking her seat which just had to be across from me, whoopee for me. Eventually Mrs Davis got the attention back to her, carrying on with her lesson, which moved onto matching up the famous English literature quotes with the character and book. To be fair this was actually a load of fun for me, even if Steve butchered a line from Romeo and Juliet, I don’t remember Shakespeare saying, ‘ A rose by any other name would smell as bad’. The way I banged my head on the table made Annetta think I broke my neck. Fun times people.

Of course, my reaction didn’t escape Mrs Davis’s attention, just my luck eh?. “Miss y/n, seeing as you seem to know everything, answer me this. Elizabeth Bennet is a main character in a well-known book, she’s known for the quote ‘I am a no bird and no net ensnares me. I am a free human being with an independent will’. The question is who is the author of this book is it A) Charles Dickens B) Jane Austen or C) Arthur Conan Doyle ?”. Is she being for real right now?. “Miss? With no disrespect the question itself is wrong, that wasn’t said by Elizabeth Bennet from pride and Prejudice, but said by Jane Eyre, and it was written by Charlotte Brontë”. A small smile spread across her face, which was confusing as all heck and a tad creepy to be honest, “very well-done Miss y/n, that’s the first time a student has gotten that question correct.”……

What in the name of ever-loving fluff just happened?….

So our girl is back and kicking butt! hopefully it’s not as bad as I think it is, and again I want to thank you all again for being so patient with me, good news is I’ve got the rest of the book written already! I’ll be posting them at least once a week.

Lots of love,

Rose xxx

[midnights-light]

Ladybug and the Hound

So before I begin I need to say a few things

This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic so it’s most likely going to suck and all that jazz

I do not own any characters in the DC or Miraculous universes (if i did everything would make little to no sense so yeah)

Can we all agree that  @ozmav is an amazing writer?

If you don’t like Daminette, don’t read it’s that simple

I am also going to use “Dogs are a Ladybug’s best friend” by @kelelamentia for some inspiration on this cuz I love that idea

All characters are going to be OOC so just be prepared

If ya’ll like it I might write more just let me know if I should write more or if I should never think about writing again (I have low self-esteem so if it look like I am hating on myself it’s because I am but I’ll get over someday but if you criticize me please at least try to be constructive criticism)

Now onto the terrible thing I decided needed to exist

LB-Ladybug

CN- Chat Noir

M-Marinette

Di-Dick

D-Damian

B-Bruce

T-Tim

J-Jason

A-Alfred

The Meeting

It was a normal Tuesday, ya know? Birds are singing, the sun is shining, the Eiffel Tower collapsed, ya know the usual. Well usual for Parisians who had to deal with this for 4 almost 5 years now but for those who just wanted a vacation like the Waynes... well let’s just say they were unprepared to see the Eiffel Tower come crashing down just a few blocks ahead of them as they were walking to get some pastries from Tom and Sabine Boulangerie patisserie for a afternoon snack and to walk Titus (they brought Titus because Damian refused to leave him alone in the mansion for two weeks while they are on vacation so Bruce reluctantly agreed to bring him with them). So them being them ran towards the fallen tower and see a few people dead and some injured. They help the injured, but just as they are about to get the remaining few out of the wreckage a girl in a clearly ladybug themed suit comes crashing to the ground creating a few cracks to form on the ground. She gets up with a groan just as a dog in a fox themed costume came running up to her and helps her steady herself. “Thanks, Hound.” says the spotted girl and as the batfam are about to check if she’s okay a... IS THAT A GIANT BABY?! Well the giant baby comes walking towards the girl and the dog when a voice shouts “If you go on a date with me Ladybug I will come help you just accept your feelings for me already!” 

Damian's POV

As soon as the spotted girl heard that she looked towards the owner of the voice and low and behold it’s a guy in a leather cat suit and on the outside I look indifferent to what is happening but on the inside the only thing I can think is ‘What is going on in this city!’ because I was just expecting a boring two weeks of ‘required’ vacation in the ‘city of love’ I hate the nickname of the city because as Father has shown love is a weakness. But apparently the city of love is not as boring as I thought it would be. The girl (ladybug I think is her name) now has a look of murder in her eyes and the dog (hound is what she called him) growled at him as ladybug said “Chat, you can’t be serious! You just caused the Eiffel Tower to fall and kill and injure people!” CN-“Yes because you can’t realize that we are meant to be together!” LB-”No we are not now either help or shut up so I can focus on gigantitan!” CN-”Fine then i’ll just sit here and enjoy the show” That one interaction makes me question if this is how it is everything something like this happens.

*Time skip because i can’t write smart plans or fight scenes*

Dick’s POV

After ladybug got his watch thing off his wrist she and hound tore it apart which released a black butterfly and the giant baby was now back to a normal sized baby. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?1 I’M SO CONFUSED! After I stopped questioning reality I realized that ladybug was comforting the kid (HE COULDN’T BE OLDER THAN 4 YEARS OLD!) she picked him up and was about to throw her spotted thing up in the air for some reason but was interrupted by the cat boy saying ‘Pound it!’ and acting like he actually helped her and didn’t just sit there on a roof watching ladybug and hound do everything. What the heck? Ladybug walks over to me and asked if I could hold the kid for a sec and I said sure because she looks ready to murder. After she hands me the kid she walks over to cat boy and started yelling at him about how he can’t just be reckless like that but it seemed to just go over his head as he replied saying something about how she owed hit to him to date him but I quickly stopped listening when the kid started crying because of all the yelling going on so I started to talk and play with him to cheer him up until he pointed to ladybug as she yelled miraculous ladybug and tossed the spotted object into the sky. I was confused about what she was doing until I saw a swarm of ladybugs appear and start fixing the damage, healing the injured, and even bringing people back to life. Then she came back over and was about to ask something but then a shrill beeping noise came from her earrings causing her to ask if we could watch over the kid until his mom came and picked him up. Titus and Hound were playing until she called him over to her and then they jumped, yes JUMPED, up to the roof and left. “What the hell was all that and does anyone else want to kill a cat boy?”

Tim’s POV

“So that all really happened, huh? It wasn’t really just a coffee dream?” I say and then look at everyone else has a different reactions to what just happened: Jason is looking at where dead bodies had been but now they were alive, Bruce is trying to understand what just happened, Alfred looks concerned, Dick is keeping the kid happy, and Damian is trying to keep Titus from running after Hound. I notice other civilians just walking around like nothing just happened and I’m just thinking ‘How long has this been happening and how have we not noticed? WHAT IS LIFE!?’

Jason’s POV

I look at everybody that was dead just walk away like nothing happened and I am about to ask Bruce if he know what that was when I feel someone bump into me. I turn around to see a girl around Damian’s age on the ground picking up the stuff she dropped while rapidly apologizing while a dog, presumably hers, was sniffing her making sure she was ok and had what looked like a glare on his face when he looked at me. M-“I’m so so sorry Monsieur! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” J-”It’s alright little lady, but if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the rush?” M- “Well you see I’m supposed to be helping in my parents bakery after I finished walking Captain but we got caught up in the akuma attack so I’m running a bit late. My names Marinette by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you before are you visiting?” What’s an akuma? I’ll file that away for later for replacement to look at but for now. J- ”Yeah we are here for a family vacation to take a break from work. Would you mind if me and my family follow you to your parent’s bakery? We were heading to one for a snack but it seems we got turned around during the attack.” M- “Sure just tell me your names first so I at least know you to some degree cause I’m not supposed to talk to people I don’t know. I hate life but I’m not ready to die just yet.” She laughs and I swear it feels like the world just got a whole lot brighter, J- “Of course where are my manners name’s Jason. I have a feeling my family is going to love you and your dog.” I say as I hold my hand out for Captain to sniff and after he does he stops giving me what I swear looks like a glare but he’s still standing near Marinette when I notice my family looking at me and Marinette and Alfred asks me, A- “Master Jason are you going to introduce us to the young miss?” J- “Oh right, guys this is Marinette, Marinette this is Alfred he’s our butler/ grandpa, the one who looks like he’s about to pass out is Tim, the one playing with the kid is Dick, the stern one is Bruce, and the  one with the dog is Damian.” I say.

Damian’s POV

I hear Todd talking to someone and introducing us and as soon as I turn to glare at Todd I see the most beautiful eyes in the whole world. they look like sapphires and her hair is like the midnight sky. She looks like an Angel... wait WHAT!?  I only zone back in as soon as Todd told the Angel my name so I did what not even I  was expecting, I took her hand, gave the back of it a kiss and said, D- “Nice to meet you Angel.” I was not smiling when I saw her blush and I for certain do not want to make her blush again... but if I have a chance to then I will take it. Then I hear a low growl and I then notice that she has a dog (yes she loves animals to!) that is looking at me like he’s going to rip me to shreds and I will forever deny that I was a little scared. M- “Sorry Damian, Captain’s just a little protective of me and doesn’t like strangers being around me.” D-”I understand.” I say then I hold out my hand for her dog (Captain I think it was) to sniff and after he does he still growls at me but doesn’t look ready to tear me to pieces so progress towards getting to know the Angel before me. And then my good mood is ruined by the sound of my idiot brothers and father, the traitor, snickering behind us. I turn and scowl at them but they don’t seem to care. Meanwhile Titus and Captain appear to have met and are now chasing each other around making me and the Angel laugh. Her laughter sounds amazing and her smile makes it feel like the world brightens up just a little. M- “So shall we start walking to the bakery?” A chorus of yes comes from my family and then we start walking. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

BONUS

*Whispering* J- “Am I going crazy or did Demon Spawn just laugh and smile at Marinette?”

Di- “No I heard it to *gasp* do you think he has a crush?”

J- “Are we sure he’s capable of having a crush?”

T- “Well I’m sure she will be good for him, but what I’m confused about is how she doesn’t recognize who we are. I mean how does she not know us she didn’t even seem to recognize our faces.

A- “I think Miss Marinette will do Master Damian some good.”

And Bruce is just looking at his youngest son with pride. His first crush and he’s able to witness it.

So as I said in the beginning this is my first fanfic and It’s most likely terrible so let me know if I should never write again, if you want another chapter, or if I should just reevaluate my life choices.

Chapter 2

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Tell Me Everything

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k Summary:  Reader works as a costume designer in Marvel. She's currently working on Endgame, designing the costumes for each superhero (but especially her favorite one), when Chris stops by. Later, he tries it on. Mutal pining goodness and fluff all throughout :) Warnings: None :) A/N: It’s been a while. I’ve written for chris once only, and I already miss it. Here’s some fluff.

Earphones plugged in deep in her ears, blocking every other sound apart from her music. The side of her hand is dirty with pencil lead, leaving occasional smudges on the paper that she forgets to erase. It’s- there’s a lingering fatigue she can’t really shake off. She’s beyond exhausted, working so late in the night, still in her office, but doing this, right here, it feels so damn good. It doesn’t matter that she should be heading home, because all her repressed creativity is bleeding in the paper, flowing as if it’s pouring out of her veins . Finally, finally , doing the thing she’s great at, the thing she loves.

Her music is deep, dark, has a strong but slow beat to it, and she bobs her head along, uncaring of the strands of hair that are furiously escaping her ponytail. She gets lost in the design, vigorously making swooping lines and hard edges, scribbling to her heart’s content, erasing a line and coming back in. The tedious process of adding details makes her settle just a little.

These past few years have been incredible. Working for Marvel was a dream she didn’t even know she’d had, the opportunity of a lifetime, truly. During the time spent working with all these amazing people, she’s learned, she’s grown, she’d developed as an artist and as a person. She can say nothing less than she’s happy, truly happy here. She means, designing and creating costumes for this franchise has been a job she couldn’t have even dreamt of. It may get tiresome, sometimes boring and tedious, but right now, designing… she feels like she’s been born to do this and just this.

It’s been a while since she’d gotten so lost in a design. It may be the fact that this particular one, and the actor that’s supposed to wear it, is her favorite. She may be biased. But she’d had amazing ideas and she was so eager to just make them come to life.

She’s coloring the last of the star in the center of the chest, when fingers tap her shoulder. Having been so lost in her work and music, she feels like someone poured a bucket of water over her without warning, and she jumps, pulling her earbuds out by their wire and swiveling her chair to look at the intruder.

Chris smiles down at her, all teeth and soft eyes. His hands are in the air flamboyantly, It’s me!, dark grey, long sleeved Henley loose on his biceps, and dark wash jeans hugging his thighs tightly. His hair is grown longer, tucked behind his ears, his beard is… new , and very nicely trimmed. Her heart thumps a little louder at the sight of him. If anyone were to ask, she’d blame the jumpscare, but she knows better.

“Chris!” Excitedly getting off her seat and throwing her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug. His own wrap around her tightly, squeeze her to him, if only for a second, and she exhales.

“Hey!” He tells her, just as excitedly, and she pulls back. “I’m sorry I scared you, I knocked and there was no answer.” She waves a hand to show him it’s okay and plops back on her seat unceremoniously.

“What are you even doing here?! I thought the cast was gonna show up next week, for the fittings?” A strand tucked behind her ear and she’s suddenly kind of self-conscious of her disheveled state. Chris leans his hip on her desk and crosses his arms over his chest casually, looking like one of those bad boys in 2000’s coming-of-age rom-coms. She tries not to stare, but it’s a struggle, and a funny thought crosses her mind. If she were looking at him for the first time, he’d be screaming trouble. He still does, but less because he’s scary and a heartbreaker, and more because she’s hopeless when it comes to being functional around him.

“I had some business up here in New York, and the Russo’s asked me to drop by. Something about paperwork.” He shrugs lightly and she ‘ah’s, accompanied by a nod and a brief eyebrow twitch to show her understanding.

“Well, I’m happy you dropped by. It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it,” she smiles at him, and Chris nods, a bit of an apologetic, regretful almost, look in his eye.

“So,” he says and shifts his weight a little, “whatcha working on?”

“You, actually.” Lead-stained fingers pull the sketchbook under the light a little better, closer to him, and he gets off his hip, places his left hand on the back of her chair, leaning all his weight on his right, on the desk. His chest is suddenly so close to her face, her shoulder brushes his torso and she’s holding her breath , because he smells so good –cologne and aftershave?- she might fucking faint . She can feel her face heat up. She wonders if he’s doing it on purpose, if he knows at all. She watches his expression.

“Waddaya got?” It’s all interest in his voice, and he doesn’t seem to intend to move. Damn.

“Well,” she takes a shaky breath, “I figured, y’know-“ a mindless shrug, and his shirt is exceptionally soft and fairly thin, two layers between their bare skin, and- oh gosh, she's supposed to be explaining things. Focus! “Cap needs a new suit, and he’s a fugitive now, right? He doesn’t really care to get a new one tailored.” Chris exhales a chopped, amused breath and nods sideways, as if saying You have a point there . “So the old one would have to do.

“But it’s different now, because he can’t have the same exact one, completely untouched, and he’s a different man now anyways.” Scooting the chair closer to the desk on instinct- and fucking great , now she’s literally pressing into the bottom of his ribcage lightly with her shoulder. It’s getting harder to breathe. She can feel his exhales on her face, Jesus. “So basically,” a steadying, shaky breath, “I made it dirtier- that’s why the colors are darker. It’s supposed to be aging fabric. But it’s also more comfortable for you.

“The sleeves will end right here-” without giving it much thought, she traces a line under his right elbow, the one on which he’s leaning, and he follows the motion with his gaze intently, “and you’ll wear some fingerless gloves with buckles on them.” He nods, eyes still not off her design, occasionally flicking to glance at her. “But,” she begins.

“The detail I’m most excited for is this,” a tap on the star in the middle of the uniform- or rather lack thereof. The space where the plastic white thing once resided is now dark blue like the rest of the uniform. She grins up at him when his features twitch in interest. “I pitched this to Joe and he really loved it. Basically, my logic is that, as we said, Cap’s a fugitive, yeah?” Chris nods, attentive as ever. “He’s gone against every government official he knows, against a big chunk of his own team. The news have probably said awful things about him and painted him as a superhero gone rogue or something. So what does he do? He rips off the star.

“He no longer fits the Captain America title, in the sense that he doesn’t want to be associated with the government’s lap dog, their dancing monkey. Instead of faithfully following orders as a soldier, he’s his own self, still a Captain, but on his own terms. It’s symbolic! He’s carving his own  path, leading like he was always meant to, and he’s dramatic enough to have done this- ripped off the star I mean. The suit should feel more familiar to him now.”

She’s been rambling for a while, her mouth is drier, but she was so excited when the idea manifested in her head. A big sense of pride washed over her, she couldn’t wait to design and implement it in the costume.

And Chris, well… Chris is looking at her with this small little smile that grows the more he considers it. “I…” he shakes his head, a grin stretching his pretty lips, “I fucking love it,” he tells her, with so much genuine warmth in his tone. She’s never heard him this confident and proud , like a parent almost, glowing at her like she’s something brighter than a star. “That’s brilliant , Y/n, holy shit ! The fans will go nuts!” He leans close to inspect the design again with the new parameters in mind, shaking his hand as if disbelieving, smile remaining on his face. “You’re amazing .”

A hot, red blush spreads across her cheeks fiercely, and there’s a lingering urge to sit up straighter, to square her shoulders in pride and happiness, because she’s so happy he liked it¸ but she is now acutely aware of how close he is, still not having moved away from her since she pressed into him accidentally. She resorts to a one shouldered shrug. “Thank you,” her voice is meeker than she’d like it, but Chris doesn’t mention it. Instead, they share a smile.

=

“Ready?”

“I’m, unf, gimme a sec- I’m coming.” Some shuffling, and then the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and she puts her phone away, swiveling in her chair and- oh Christ.

“Chris… ” she says, eyes racking from the tops of his shoes, up his legs, his thighs, his belt. The way the comfortable material stretches over his fit stomach, up his curved chest, and extends up to the base of his neck- it’s, fuck, he looks so good. His veiny forearms are exposed to the warm lamp light in the room, and he’s not wearing the gloves, seeing as they’re sitting on her desk.

The dark blue of his suit makes his newly dyed hair look golden .

“How do I look?” He says with a grin, striking an exuberant pose just to make her smile, and she grins.

“I’ll give you like,” she pretends to think for a second, “a six out of ten.” A shrug and a bitten back smile, and his hand goes to his chest dramatically, thick eyebrows furrowing and blowing out a breath.

“Damn,” he tells her with a look in his eyes that she can’t really place, something teasing, but like they're sharing an inside joke of some kind. “Harsh critic,” it’s teasing and happy, and she chuckles, because yeah. This is quite  perfect. She grabs his gloves off her desk and gets off her chair, going up to him and holding them for him to squeeze his hands in. She tightens some buckles, smooths a hand over the leathery material, making non-existent creases disappear.

A step back, she inspects the way the material hugs his thighs so nicely, but is also still baggy, to give him some freedom of movement. His boots are almost knee high, and- it actually looks like it might be a bit tight in the neck. She steps closer to him, barely tests the two buckles in front of his shoulders, checking that there’s give for him to move in. “It’s good? Comfortable, I mean?” A finger dragged between the collar of his top and his neck, purely professionally she swears, it was a subconscious move to check how much space there is for him to breathe and move his neck. And that’s the moment stupid Chris chooses to hum and she feels it in the exhale hitting her face, the vibration of his throat.

God .

Her lips purse and she squints a little, pulling back her hand. I can make this better , she decides. “Don’t move,” she orders and heads to her desk, grabbing some needle and a thread that matches the color of his suit, along with a small blade. She walks back up to him again and, with a careful hand on his chest and the threaded needle carefully placed between her lips, she makes a few, strategically placed rips near the star with the blade.

“Don’t stab me,” he says, tone low for a reason she can’t understand but makes a shiver run through her.

“Don’t give me ideas,” she counters, and Chris’s stomach shakes a little with a short, contained laugh. Continuing, she distresses the fabric, and patches up the edges so they won’t tear further during filming, allowing a string or two to stick out.

She is absolutely, of course, not ignoring how she can feel every single one of his breaths, and how he’s so good and still, and his hands are only a handful of inches away from her waist, his face hellishly close to hers.

A released exhale and a nod to herself. “Perfect,” she says quietly. She wraps the threaded needle around the handle of the blade so as to not lose it and throws it back on her desk haphazardly, to put away later. Unmoving from her spot near him, she gazes at the rips and decides it was a good addition. For just a second, it seems she forgets exactly how close he is, and now she looks up to him for approval, finding that same intent stare, straight into her soul from only three inches away.

There’s a sudden urge to shrink and disintegrate, confidence gone. Clothes she can handle. Chris she really can’t.

Baby blue eyes are watching her, standing perfectly still for her to do her thing, but there’s a, dare she say , affection of sorts in his gaze, and she’s very much struck with it. “You look great, Cap’n,” breathy and quiet, because she can’t fucking sit in silence when he looks at her like that. Chris smiles.

“All thanks to you.” A grin at the praise, at the lowered tone of his voice, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment with loud words. She should step back, b- but she physically cannot. Her muscles are seriously unwilling to move. This is her being weird, right? She’s crossing a line by taking advantage of his proximity, right? Why- He’s not showing any signs of awkwardness or discomfort though.

She’d like to know how one stretches a moment to eternity, a piece of knowledge she'd most certainly use right now. His cologne is the same as last week, when he visited in her office, comforting and musky, and he’s- he’s just looking at her with his beautiful eyes boring into hers, his warmth just centimeters away.

“You’re very close to me,” what a stupid thing to say , she scolds herself, but she just- she doesn’t know what else to do. Is it normal to feel such heat radiate from his body, or is that her mind playing tricks? She wants to curl into him, into said warmth, bury her nose in his neck and nuzzle there. It’s an urge that hits her like a tidal wave, and it almost makes her stagger on her feet. Her heart beats faster, inflated and full, adrenaline coursing through her veins all of a sudden. Chris swallows a little and nods. “What are you gonna do about it?”

There’s almost no charm in his tone, he looks borderline nervous, but there’s still some confidence in his velvety voice for him to flirt with her, the bastard and- she’s not imagining this, right? She’s not dreaming or anything? Chris actually enjoys this proximity, this closeness, he’s not pulling away. He just- he just sort of gave her consent to do something, anything. The ball is in her court, a challenge, proving she actually can do something about this.

With a shaky hand, she presses her palm flat on his chest.

A mental barrier is broken by that  touch and Chris seems to curl closer, if possible. His gloved hand goes to her waist, holding her near him, his head dipping lower, and she’s standing on her tiptoes. Noses brushing together, a challenge, emphasized in the teasing curl of his lips, sharing the same air. Beard tickling her top lip as she inches closer. A small hand on his face, and she licks her lips instinctively, parts them a little- and closes the gap between them.

It’s soft and wet and everything she’s ever dreamt of really, and holy shit , she’s dreamt of this. It’s actually happening, right now. He’s in his dumb Captain America uniform, pulling her close so now their chests are pressed together, moving his lips against hers slowly, and his hands are in leather gloves with buckles on them. The thought makes her smile a little, to the point where now the kiss is all teeth, and he pulls back for a second, as if sensing her amusement.

“What?” he asks. Her forehead leans on his chest, a sad attempt to hide her grin. His arms, one wrapping around her waist, his other hand on her back.

“I’m kissing Captain America,” and Chris lets out a single, incredulous breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head as if to say, you’re unbelievable. She grins up at him, a challenging eyebrow raised. Am I wrong though?

Teeth trap her bottom lip and she worries it for a moment as they quiet again, lost in thought and looking at him absently. She wants to kiss him again. She likes how his hands are warm on her back, how his chest is lean under her. Leaning on her tiptoes again, she smiles softly and brushes her nose on his cheek affectionately, because it’s suddenly okay to do so, the hairs of his beard scratchy against her skin. Chris is not having it though, and he turns his head to capture her lips again.

It feels so good, she thinks, as she instinctively places gentle fingers on his jawline to keep him tilted to her. It’s like the world is blooming. Like her heart is bursting through the seams, chest far too small for it. She kisses him, and he holds her just this much closer.

She’s kissing Captain America. And it’s a damn good fucking kiss.

Tags: @thegetawaywriter​ 

[pisceanofinterest]

Calanthe and Eist’s Birth Charts

okay so because I’m a fucking nerd I decided to spend upwards of 6 hours a couple of weeks ago making birth charts for Calanthe and Eist, and I figured that I’d share them here since I put so much fucking work into them. 

Good to note that all of these traits are heavily influenced by @marvellouslymadmim ‘s incredible fics....

I’ve also taken the liberty to give them birthdays bahaha, and I didn’t do houses because that would have taken me an extra 10 hours so this is just the planets. It’s long so read below cut :)

Calanthe, December 23, 1218 (Sun- Mars + Rising placements)

Sun in Capricorn: center of self, other traits mix with this

Meticulous, dead-pan, practical, they get shit DONE son, very self-assured, sarcastic, need structure or they will literally fall apart (and they often do.. Although secretly), resourceful, intelligent, blunt… need I say more

Moon in Aquarius: rules emotions, moods, feelings

Observant, oftentimes considered “loners,” powerful defense mechanisms, willful, wil deny “irrational” emotions (jealousy, possessiveness, fear) in order to seem “above” others, independent, thrive off of “shock-value,” proud, don’t like “messy” emotions, can seem incredibly distant to the people closest to them, hide sensitivities very well, unpredictable, stubborn, and incredibly seductive and charming

Ascendent in Leo: the “mask” you wear, public persona

GREAT hair, cares about appearance (not necessarily out of vanity but out of an understanding that appearance can be a weapon), aware of how they are perceived, very tender and gentle with loved ones, say exactly what they think, enjoy being the center of attention… but ONLY when they choose to be

Mercury in Scorpio: planet of communication

meticulous→ gets to the bottom of EVERYTHING, great observers, suspicious, tend to focus on the negative, passionate, prone to lecturing rather than listening, however they are excellent at giving advice, better communicators when it comes to subjects that are not close to home→ have a hard time communicating needs/feelings, excellent strategizers, constructive criticism = destructive criticism (they will rip you to shreds), want to WIN conversations (and often do), defensive of people they care about, love a challenge

Venus in Pisces: planet of love and relationships

In love they are dreamy and soft, can be a little moody and irregular, hard to read, like to “feel things out” (HATE decision making), can take YEARS to commit to something/someone, want partners to know that their love is unconditional, like to save people, tender and affectionate, oftentimes hard to reach, flippant, absolutely devoted (eventually)

Mars in Scorpio: planet of sex and aggression

Lovesssss a challenge→ like to set personal goals to see if they can meet them/ bend the rules, formidable opponents, hard to read, high sexual stamina, generally get what they want in bed (ahem), possessive of partners (but will never admit it), can have a hard time compromising, great survival instincts, very protective people, show love through physical touch and sex, extrememly passionate individuals

Eist, June 26, 1219 (Sun-Mars + Rising)

Sun in Cancer: center of self

Protective, caring, nurturing, moody, led by emotions, good at hiding vulnerability but are VERY VULNERABLE, soft, self-sacrificing

Moon in Taurus: rules emotions, moods, feelings

Cherish familiarity, strong-willed, sensory, materialistic, persevering (sometimes to a fault), crave stability and often ARE that stability for others, very romantic, affectionate, sentimental, warm, enduring, hold on tight to their loved ones, loyal, serene, stubborn af, crave routine, need clear lines and boundaries

Ascendant in Pisces: “mask,” public persona, physical appearance 

Very very dreamy (and often have dreamy eyes), idealistic, go with the flow, gentle, peacemakers and peace lovers, chameleon- like persona (often can change easily to blend in with their environments socially and emotionally), can be shy or quiet but that’s because they are taking time to observe everything around them, however they loveeee to talk when the time is right, restless and searching, “feel their way through life,” rely heavily on emotions, irresistible charm, soft aura, very likeable

Mercury in Cancer: planet of communication

Communicate through feelings, sensitive, deep thinkers, can take time to respond to situations, excellent listeners, meditative and reflective, incredible memories (especially good at remembering emotional context), has a hard time letting emotions go, gentle, intuitive, sentimental, protective, soothing, nurturing, can get “lost” in another person’s way of thinking/feeling, very good with words (especially along the lines of letter writing and poetry)

Venus in Cancer: planet of love and relationships

Need commitment and predictability, sensitive, need security and care, pay more attention to their partner’s feelings than their words, excellent listeners, can be incredibly moody (especially if they don’t have an outlet for their stronger emotions), hate indifference (like indifference could literally kill them… so don’t do that), not afraid of confronting emotions, a bit anxious in love→ need reassurance, can be possessive, sentimental, tender, attached, cuddly, soft

Mars in Taurus: planet of sex and aggression

Calm and easy going, can have powerful tempers when pushed over the edge (but it doesn’t happen often), value strength and stability, need security, will spend years trying to achieve a goal, will not change their mind (like ever… well almost), immovable, extremely sensory when it comes to sex, long lasting and steady sexual stamina, not necessarily spontaneous but they stick to what they’re good at, very emotionally connected to sex (it’s never just physical)

Shared Placements (Jupiter-Pluto)

Jupiter in Scorpio: Jupiter represents the traits that bring us fortune

Incredibly emotional (but secretive about it), decisive, intense, have great will power, intuitive, creative, in control

Cal and Eist are both emotionally intelligent. They are seekers of truths and are determined in their efforts. Both like to be in control, both are led by emotions and passions rather than logic. When fully tapped into their emotions, they are unstoppable. When cultivated correctly, emotions become their most powerful tools and weapons. 

Saturn in Pisces: reveals limitations of the self

Saturn in Pisces people are incredibly helpful and are excellent caregivers; however they are not so good at directing that care towards themselves. In fact, they often shut down when someone directs pity (or what these Piscean placements deem as pity) at them. They like to be in control, so when they aren’t they become paranoid and anxious. Saturn in Pisces individuals have to work extra hard to take care of themselves-- this is one of their greatest faults.

Cal and Eist are both care-givers; they fiercely protect the people they love most. However, they have a hard time taking care of themselves, and letting others take care of them. They believe that they have the ability to protect themselves if they hold onto that self-control, but they often do not have self control as they are led primarily by emotion. Each of them needs coaxing from their loved ones to truly take care of themselves. They rely heavily on their close circles. 

Uranus in Gemini: rules friends, relationships, community, transformation, change, ideas

Uranus in Gemini people are super energetic and are incredible innovators. They are quick witted and quick tempered, often moving between emotions and ideas in moments. They are great transformers of thought, and often break traditions and taboos (rather gleefully). They hate authority, and will question it relentlessly.

Cal and Eist are both witty and intelligent people. They’re excellent strategists and politicians. Although they both perform their roles as diplomats and political leaders, they often go out of their way to subvert norms and question authority. They create new rules, they bend tradition. They hide in plain sight. 

Neptune in Virgo: to refine, planet of inspiration

Neptune in Virgo people are idealistic and detail oriented. They love to serve others, especially those in need. They value work and health and safety. They are versatile and adaptable. They are motivated by a sense of duty and helpfulness. 

Cal and Eist are excellent leaders and they truly value their positions as respective rulers of their nations. They are compassionate, though stern, and are ready to make hard decisions when it comes to issues of diplomacy. They are also quite stubborn, and oftentimes their opinions are conflated with fact. It’s important to note that the two generations following are Neptune in Libra (full of individuals who value harmony and diplomacy and justice-- ahem Pavetta), and Neptune in Scorpio (full of individuals who are secretive, profound, and enjoy solitude; people who also enjoy the search for truth and justice-- ahem Cirilla).

Pluto in Taurus: symbolizes rebirth, change, secrets

Pluto in Taurus individuals are incredibly stubborn and persistent. They value materials and will never be satisfied with the amount of resources they have. They hate change and love their way. 

Cal and Eist (and Mousesack and other characters around their age group) were born and grew up in a generation which sought, conquered, and maintained resources effectively. Cal, especially, used her strengths and her resourcefulness to protect and improve her kingdom; and for a majority of her rule maintained diplomacy without surrendering any of her power. However, the generation following Taurus is Gemini. This generation (including Cahir and Pavetta and potentially Ciri) are inquisitive and thirsty for ideas and knowledge. They are the breakers of tradition. Where Cal and Eist’s generation built and maintained some version of stability, Pavatta and Cahir’s generation destroy borders and bring about great change and innovation.