#actually appreciate it so much thank you though!!!!

[kkentobox]

you’re an amazing writer!

sfw abc’s?

feel free to delete, no pressure!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀SFW ABC LIST! W/ JSCHLATT.

author’s note: thank you so much, my love! i hope i did you proud with this one <3 we got a gender neutral reader here! we also have a ted nivison nsfw and sfw abc list coming soon 😼 reblogs & likes are always appreciated! remember, do not steal or plagiarize any work belonging to kkentobox !

A + AFFECTION —- how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt’s love languages are acts of service and quality time, i said what i said !! his affection always seems to revolve around those two, with the sprinkle of physical touch. he’ll tie your shoe laces when they come undone without a word. he’ll surprise you with a food and binge watch your favorite shows. he’ll take candid photos of you with the cameras he always carries. he’ll carry you with ease if you’re tired after walking too long. he’ll give you his phone without a worry as to why you want it. his actions say a lot more than he could ever express with words.

B + BEST FRIEND —- what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?

⠀⠀⠀⠀the friendship definitely forms through social media and from the beginning he’d be a pain in the ass. from spamming your phone at late hours with videos or teasing you about literally anything you do, especially if you’re a content creator. he’s definitely someone you can rely on during tough times and someone you can immediately go to when things don’t work out; he’ll be nice enough to offer solutions before comforting you.

C + CUDDLE —- do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt is a huge cuddler! though it took him a while to actually admit and accept it, he physically melts when he’s in your arms. he feels very natural spooning you, but he would never put up a fight to be cuddled by you. whether he’s lying on top of you with his head in your neck or chest or being a little spoon, he’ll have a goofy look on his face.

D + DOMESTIC —- they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt being the classic american he is, does see himself settling down at some point. he doesn’t cook five star meals and has hired people to clean before, but he will step up his game for you if he sees a future with you. you’ll see him put more effort in grocery shopping with you, cleaning up the dishes if you cooked, accidentally getting on cleantok because he searched up helpful tips on cleaning.

E + ENDING —- if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s a very serious man about stuff like this, but he’d be blunt about it. he wouldn’t drag things on or sugarcoat anything, he’d cut straight to the point and just say what he’s already decided. it would be in the bedroom or living room where he can sit and properly look at you. he’d talk about how he came to the decision, what he’s feeling and apologize for doing it, but not feeling very sorry about it because ultimately it’s how he feels.

F + FIANCE(E) —- how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt is definitely someone who wants to take a relationship slow, he won’t put a ring on your finger in a year of being together. no longer than five years, but no earlier than two years for sure! something about him just gives off a very natural vibe, one where he kinda just lets everything fall into place on their own.

G + GENTLE —- how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

⠀⠀⠀⠀naturally with you, he’s very gentle with his physical touch. brushing your hair? he’s doing his best to not tug too harshly on the strands, kissing and whispering against your head if he accidentally hurt you. helping you with chores? he’ll roll up your sleeves or help you put your hair back. he’ll smooth over your clothes with soft hands in public without saying a word. often placing both of his palms against your cheeks to pucker up your lips, ready to place a lingering kiss.

⠀⠀⠀⠀emotionally, he tries his best to help you understand him. he knows how he is with communication and emotional intelligence, something he’s gotten better at since meeting you. though most of his emotions when it comes to you are always positive, there are moments where they aren’t; during those times, he still won’t take it out on you because he values your own wellbeing.

H + HUGS —- do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?

⠀⠀⠀⠀i KNOW his hugs are the best thing in the world. with how big and broad he is, his body would wrap around yours just perfectly, like it was meant to be held by him. i can actually see him holding you very often in the privacy of your home, his arms lazily wrapped around your waist all the time like they’re glued there. when he’s talking to you, nine times out of ten, he’s all up in your space with a hug.

I + I LOVE YOU —- how fast do they say the L-word?

⠀⠀⠀⠀seeing as how it takes him a while to process and fully understand his emotions, he would definitely take his time with saying the l-word. he would feel it early in the relationship, but would overthink how you actually feel so he’d hold off on saying it for months. he might actually wait until he feels like you guys have reached a serious point in the relationship, but would still end up saying it in a very comfortable environment. maybe snuggled up on the couch watching a movie or getting ready to go out.

J + JEALOUSY —- how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?

⠀⠀⠀⠀with feelings like his, he doesn’t always get jealous because normally you’re very quick to never let anything get to a point where it would make him jealous. but! let’s say he does get jealous for whatever reason, he doesn’t blame you ever. he’ll get a very strong urge to be possessive, give you a big kiss and grope you no matter if you’re in public. there are times where he just kind of wallows and gets quiet, feeling this ugly weight on his chest that doesn’t go away until you’ve given him enough kisses to get his mind off it.

K + KISSES —- what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt’s kisses are always very sweet but firm, just like his love for you! his favorite place to kiss you is your forehead, the habit coming natural to him because of his cats. he seemingly enjoys whenever you press a kiss against his cheek, especially near his chops. there are times in public or for filming purposes when he tends to get a little vulgar with his kisses just to fluster you. on plenty occasions, he’ll open mouth kiss you and hold you tight against him so you won’t move.. those would be my favorite idk about you guys.

L + LITTLE ONES —- how are they around children?

⠀⠀⠀⠀we have all seen how he acts around children, the man is a complete natural when it comes to kids. he’s very gentle, knows how to keep them entertained & is more than capable of keeping up with their attention span. i can definitely see him getting baby fever really bad, but it being cut short if he sees their boogers or something </3

M + MORNINGS —- how are mornings spent with them?

⠀⠀⠀⠀i am a firm believer that he likes to hit the snooze button as many times as he can, always trying to get those last few minutes of sleep in. he’ll hold on tight to you if you like to get up earlier than him, he refuses to let you go so you really have to beg him. his rosy cheeks and sleepy eyes never fail to lure you back in to the cozy bed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀once he’s gotten in those few minutes, he still won’t actually leave the bed until his tired mind realizes you’ve actually left, then he’s quick to get up to find you. mornings are usually when he’s the most clingy, having the tendency of rest his entire body on you even when you’re busy doing something. cooking breakfast? he’s got his arms around you, back flush against his chest as he mumbles into your hair that you should come back to bed. doing work? he’s sitting on the floor beside you so he’s at perfect height to rest his head on your lap.

N + NIGHTS —- how are nights spent with them?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt likes to unwind before bed, what he prefers? watching you from bed as you prepare yourself for the night. attentive eyes memorizing your skincare routine, resting against the headboard as you walk around the room. sometimes when he’s missed you throughout the day, he’ll stand right behind you in the mirror and help you apply everything. holding your hair back rather than letting you tie it up, cleaning up your arms when the water dribbles down them, etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀when you guys finally end up in bed, there’s quiet mumbles against each other’s skin in the darkness. the final whispers of the other’s day and how it went, what the plans are for tomorrow. i don’t see him taking up too much space on the bed in terms of moving, he prefers to keep himself wrapped around your body and just stays there throughout the night; shifting to your body movement in his slumber.

O + OPEN —- how would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

⠀⠀⠀⠀privacy is something he values greatly, though he makes connections with people quickly, it takes him a while to reveal personal information. he doesn’t say anything until he truly believes he can trust you, then he’ll become more vulnerable. you’ll take note that he begins to share childhood stories, how he’s feeling mentally, his plans for the future, etc.

P + PATIENCE —- how easily angered are they?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt’s online persona makes it seem like he would be quick to be angry, but i can see him being very patient. depending on the situation, how you guys got here & what the topic is about — he’ll be more calm on trying to have an adult conversation to work past things. however, during the rare moments where he’s more upset, he still wouldn’t dare yell at you, he’ll shut down instead after a couple minutes of arguing. he’s more firm than anything, trying to understand your feelings and thoughts, but if the conversation is leading you guys nowhere; he offers to take a walk with him in silence to gather your thoughts.

Q + QUIZZES —- how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?

⠀⠀⠀⠀you would never guess he actually captures everything you tell him, but he has a very good memory! he’s always bringing up things that you had completely forgot you mentioned to him, like the one shampoo you told him you wanted to try months ago or the new restaurant you wanted to check out once it opened. looking through his notes on his phone, he has quick texts to himself of things you’ve recently mentioned or things he has on his to-do list like buy your cart on the website you’ve had opened for weeks.

R + REMEMBER —- what is their favorite moment in your relationship?

⠀⠀⠀⠀meeting his family is the first memory that comes to mind, being such an important milestone in your relationship that went flawlessly. his parents having loved you the second they opened the door, it warms his heart knowing how quickly you made such a special connection with his parents. he’ll be on the phone with his mother when she suddenly interrupts him asking if you’ve eaten for the day.

S + SECURITY —- how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt can actually be very protective over you, especially if you guys are at an event or around other content creators. of course, he lets you go off on your own to socialize, but he’ll always remain in eyesight to keep a close eye on your surroundings. in public, he likes to keep things minimal by keeping an arm around your shoulder, your arm wrapped around his or his hand on your lower back.

⠀⠀⠀⠀though physical violence would never be his first choice, he can definitely get rowdy if someone is taking things too far. if someone came up to you, being very persistent on taking you home with them, he’s intervene by giving them a “what the fuck are you doing?” look followed by a “they’re not interested, bro.” but if they continued to follow after you is when he’ll lightly shove them away. he does not play about your safety.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he, however, can take care of himself, but wouldn’t mind too much if you defended him. he’d be next to you with a smug look on his face as you spoke, almost proud that you have the courage to speak up for him.

T + TRY —- how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

⠀⠀⠀⠀he likes to make everything very sentimental rather than go big for everything. he knows you like the back of his hand, so his gifts are always something he knows you’ve love & use every day. the effort he puts into special occasions like anniversaries, birthdays, etc usually means a romantic meal at a fancy jazz restaurant/bar followed by a breathtaking view at an expensive hotel where the gifts are given. he tries his best to always put in sentimental value into everything he does, i am a acts of service schlatt truther!!!

U + UGLY —- what would be some bad habits of theirs?

⠀⠀⠀⠀there are times when he shuts down, whether it be from overworking himself, feeling overwhelmed with his work or feeling like he’s not doing enough. he won’t talk to anyone and just kind of brushes off your questions, a habit only he can take himself out of until he’s ready to talk. he can also get very defensive about his feelings, he sometimes can’t properly explain how he feels because he lacks the words to express himself, which leads him to feeling frustrated.

V + VANITY —- how concerned are they with their looks?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt has said time and time again he doesn’t really do anything to himself. no cologne, no skincare, nothing to actually maintain an appearance aside from haircuts. he genuinely doesn’t care about any of that, which ultimately makes him more attractive that he just wakes up like that. you will always whine to him about how soft his hair or skin is without any effort on his side, just for him to laugh in your face.

W + WHOLE —- would they feel incomplete without you?

⠀⠀⠀⠀incomplete is a very strong word for someone as independent as him. he finds value in himself, knows who he is as a person and has been more than content with being by himself, but if he lost you? he’d miss you immensely, always being in a state of reminiscing what you usually did around the house, yearning for your presence. of course it would take him some time to get over it, to return how he was before, but there will always be a part of him that believes you took a piece of him he will never get back.

X + XTRA —- a random headcanon for them.

⠀⠀⠀⠀the man often carries something of yours. hair ties on his wrist or in his car, your favorite chapstick in his pockets, a polaroid in his wallet, a comfy pair of shoes and one of his old sweaters for you to change into in his trunk, your playlist ready to play on aux, a trinket (sonny angel, calico critter, etc) you’ve gifted him that he carries on his keys. you’re everywhere and he likes it that way.

Y + YUCK —- what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt wouldn’t want to be with someone who has to share their business with everyone. he’s a very private person, so i can imagine him being upset if he had a partner that was constantly telling the world about their arguments or personal information he himself would never put out there. it’s fine if someone is talkative and loves to share, just as long as it’s not going to affect him or the relationship personally. telling your best friend about your recent argument is one thing, telling an entire audience or his closest friends about it is another thing.

Z + ZZZ —- what is a sleep habits of theirs?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt’s body will always find yours. he physically cannot sleep if you’re not snuggled up beside him. if he can’t feel you in his sleep, he’s immediately waking up. if you turn in your sleep, so is he, somehow finding comfortable positions with you while you’re both in mimi land.

[shin-kenooubu]

Confession Headcanons!

featuring: Ranpo Edogawa

(sfw, fluff, gn!reader, no content warnings)

• author's note: more ranpo because i love him.

Ranpo isn't used to being uncertain about things, in fact, there is nothing in the world that he is less accustomed to. He always has things figured, it's always taken him seconds and it somehow takes him Even Less Time to blabber out the answer.

But that certainty comes from cold hard facts. Feelings are far, far, faaaar trickier.

So obviously. Instead of figuring out a way to put his feelings into proper words and going through the grueling feeling of vulnerability and heat rushing into his face and down his neck.

He makes you do it.

Eventually, you won't be able to keep quiet about your feelings and he knows this. But at the rate you're going, it's going to take ages. So he's going to help speed up the process! Because someone needs to confess.

And its certainly not going to be him. For obvious reasons.

So heres now it goes:

- All up in your space. He knows you get flustered when he's near. Filing some paperwork? He's sitting on your desk. Taking a break on the couch? He's sitting down and draping his legs over your lap. You're taking your lunch break? He's hungry too!!! Buy him a treat!!!

- Makes you accompany him whenever he gets sent out. It doesn't matter if you can drive or not, he'll tell you everything he's already figured out about the case on the way there regardless! He's basically figured it all out already anyways. Isn't that impressive? Isn't he the best? Praise him, please and thank you.

- Compliments you. Indirectly. All the other members of the ADA always mention how highly Ranpo seems to think of you. It's clear that he values your input, he finds you incredibly dependable as well, y'know, he's even mentioned that you're pretty easy on the eyes. Don't tell him they told you that, though. (It's all part of his master plan.)

- Shares. His supply is dwindling even faster because of you! You should feel honored. Or maybe not. He doesn't actually mind, don't feel bad for taking anything. Hurry up and eat the damn thing already.

- Listens to you. Actively. He makes sure to show that he's paying attention to you because he knows that you appreciate it. He doesn't really get it, he's always listening even if it looks like he's busy playing around. But feelings are weird and fragile. He'll be a little extra careful with yours.

- Makes an effort to not insult your intelligence. Not that he ever actually means to, his wording is just off. Which is why recently you've found him growing quiet in conversations for a few seconds. A small pout on his lips as he considers his words before snapping right back into place and continuing whatever tirade he was going on. All without throwing out an indirect jab. It's cute, and also very thoughtful.

- Minimizes the opportunities you have to get hurt in his plans. Obviously some things don't come together as neatly as one might hope but damnit if he isn't finding a way to keep you safe. You can be useful And out of harms way.

He's obvious, he doesn't trust you to not brush off his vaguer advances as him simply being friendly. He wants you to get the hint. Needs you to, really, because he's sick of pining just as much as you are.

When you do eventually ask to speak to him privately, invite him into your space and sit him down, his heart pounds.

Ranpo knows the outcome of this, he's set it in motion for weeks, maybe even months, but theres still Doubt.

He can't see the future.

He can infer it, maybe. Can imagine a future where you and him are happy, where everyday, the two of you lay in bed together, and you smile at him as you run your fingers through his black hair and his mind grows muddy.

But this isn't like any simple murder case. He knows some facts, yeah, but none of it will ever, ever be enough to be Certain. Certain of you and him. Together. It scares him.

But when you take his hands in yours, a little clammy from nerves, and whisper your feelings to him, he can't help but surge forward and press his lips to yours.

A wide smile. A simple, "I know."

You can feel his quiet laughter on your face.

He's lucky he didn't wheeze it out, with how tight his chest feels from pure giddiness.

[pukefactory]

I'm not sure if you take twisted!reader requests, but if you do. Then could I request platonic Twisted!user who is surprisingly chill and non-violent with RnD?

Hehe, of course! This is such an adorable concept, and I had a lot of fun writing it. I ended up making it a headcanon post instead of a short story because I had too many ideas for just one scenario—I hope that’s alright!

────༺ LIFEJAM ༻────

ᗢ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring RnD with a Twisted reader

ᗢ Character(s): Razzle and Dazzle (Dandy’s World)

ᗢ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

ᗢ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

⟢ When they first encounter you, RnD are terrified, just as they would be with any other Twisted. However, when they realize you mean no harm, they lower their defenses and attempt to communicate. Razzle does his best to speak with you, while Dazzle remains hesitant, voicing his concerns—though Razzle quickly dismisses them, albeit with some uncertainty of his own. Yet, due to your unexpectedly calm nature, they both gradually relax the more Razzle interacts with you.

⟢ Eventually, you wander off, leaving RnD to fill the ichor machines alone. As they work, they catch a glimpse of you chasing another toon around the area. They immediately stop and rush to their friend’s aid, but the moment you spot them, you halt, simply staring at RnD before turning around and walking away once more—leaving them, and everyone else, even more confused than before.

⟢ After finishing with their respective machines, RnD begins searching the area for items for themselves and their teammates. During their venture, they are intercepted by you, who nonchalantly hands them a box of bandages without a word. Before they can thank you, you walk off, only to return moments later with a first aid kit just for them. Finally, they get the chance to express their gratitude. Though you simply nod in response before scurrying away again, the pair remain very thankful for your help—even if they find you a bit perplexing.

⟢ Actually, you may go a bit overboard when giving RnD items. While you do hand them useful supplies, you also give them anything you come across—chocolate bars, candy, sodas—just whatever happens to be lying around. You provide so much in such a short time that they eventually have to start stacking everything in a corner. The rest of the toons are frustrated that you’ve left them with nothing, not even a single item. However, at least they can rely on RnD for whatever they need, and your constant gift-giving keeps you distracted, allowing them to work on their machines in peace.

⟢ Once the floor is nearly cleared of items, RnD decides to keep you occupied and away from the other toons by showing you what you’ve given them. They attempt to explain what each item is, which ones they prefer, and which they don’t. Though this was originally meant as a distraction, the pair soon become engrossed in their one-sided conversation while you calmly listen, occasionally responding with muffled groans. It’s nice to have someone who listens.

⟢ Just because you get along with RnD doesn’t mean the other Twisteds do. If another Twisted tries to attack them, you immediately become hostile, chasing them off and, in some cases, even attacking them. You take on the role of RnD’s personal protector, driving away any threats that come their way. They appreciate your vigilance—at least until you start turning your attention toward the toons. At that point, RnD has to quickly find a way to distract you before you can harm their friends.

⟢ When it’s time to leave, RnD feels conflicted about abandoning you but ultimately knows they have no choice. As they depart, guilt lingers, and they briefly consider finding a way to bring you along—until they realize you would be a danger to the other toons. That’s okay, though, because they can always visit, and they do! You may not be much for conversation, but you’re kind, protective, and always ready to help when needed. Even if you’re not who you once were, RnD still cares about you deeply—and that means something.

[midnight-mourning]

(Mostly) Happy Accidents

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 3💘💘

Silly little fluffy thing for you all, as someone allergic to red dye (to a point, it's a 50/50 chance whether i'll break out in hives or not so I usually just avoid it to be safe) it resonated when it came to valentine's candy/sweets, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: The boys know about the tradition of Valentine's candy and get some for Y/N, not knowing they were allergic to one of the ingredients in the candy. Apologies and appreciation for attempting to get Y/N a gift obviously follow

Word Count: 1425

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Sun seems almost too excited when the last child exits the Daycare for the day. Practically buzzing beside you as you wave goodbye and shut the door. 

Maybe it was just for clean up, considering you had so much to do today in particular. It was Valentine's after all. And as with every holiday, the attendant simply had to go all out for it. Which, while pretty, would be a laborious process to tidy up. 

So when you turn around to discuss it with him, and see his hands filled with a giant heart-shaped box, you were quite surprised. 

"Happy Valentine's day, Sunbeam! We got this just for you!" Sun tilts his head, rays spinning quickly. 

Your eyes widen, starting to smile. "Oh! You didn't guys didn't have to do that. But I appreciate it! Thank you, really." 

You take the box and open it up. Inside, they're all sorts of different sweets, all different shapes and with different patterns. You don't even know where to begin. You pick one at random and pop it into your mouth, chewing as you listen to Sun speak again. 

"Of course we did! How else are we supposed to show how much we care about you? On the most important day to do it, no less." He chuckles. 

Your face starts to warm up, and you swallow. "Y-yeah? You um, mean that?"

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't, Sweetheart." Sun boops your nose, giggling. 

It just serves to fluster you further, so to stop yourself from saying anything by downing another chocolate. 

Sun continues chatting, his excitement truly coming to light now. "We were really nervous about finding something you'd like, we spent ages trying to make sure we found something that had all your favorite flavors, to show you how much we care, because we do, a lot..."

As he talks, you realize the burning on your face isn't getting any better, but now notice that it's not from being embarrassed. The warmth is also traveling down your neck and chest, accompanied by an all too familiar itching sensation. You feel that same to desire to scratch at your currently covered arms.Your throat is tight, but not horrible, thankfully.

When you think to look at the half-bite you've taken out of the chocolate in your hand, and see the hot pink-colored filling, it basically confirms what you thought had happened. 

You keep your calm though, still trying to listen as the playtime attendant keeps going. "—And then came the matter of actually getting it! We couldn't ask for help because that would ruin the surprise, and we were also afraid someone would tell us we couldn't get you something, and that wouldn't do! So imagine our delight when Officer Ryan left his wallet in the break room. We just quickly borrowed the card and put it right back, don't worry! He didn't even notice—" He stops all of the sudden, tone falling. "Is everything okay, Starshine?"

You jump, realizing you're scratching at your neck now. "Um, sort of? Do you happen to know if any of these have red dye in them?"

"Red dye? Of course they don't, Sunbeam, it says right here in your file that you're allergic we would never—forget... something, like, that..." Sun freezes in that moment, staring out into space as realization seems to kick him straight in the gut. 

You put your hands up. "It's okay, it's okay. I just need a benadryl and I'll be fine-Woah!"

Sun scoops you up, hurriedly rushing over to the desk with you in his arms. With his free hand he starts frantically looking for something. 

"Not good, not good, not good! Oh, I'm so so so sorry Star! We should have paid more attention, we just got so caught up in finding you something perfect and now—" He shakes his head, growing more panicked. 

You try to diffuse the situation before he short circuits or something. "Sunny, it's fine, I promise. It's just a mild allergy. I'll be okay, really." You don't tell him how desperately you want him to set you down so you can scratch your arms off, as you think that'll only worsen the situation. 

Your words don't register, he can't seem to hear you as he searches through the medical bag, suddenly ripping his hand from inside to pull out an epi pen. And before you can protest, he's setting you on the desk and jabbing it into your thigh. 

You yelp, and he immediately relaxes. For the most part. As his posture sags, face downturned, he speaks again, dejected. "Please forgive us. We're so sorry. Had we been paying attention this never would have happened."

"Sunny, it's okay. It was a mistake." You set a hand on his shoulder, he flinches at your touch. 

Suddenly he looks up, anger in his tone, though not at you, you quickly realize. "But we hurt you! How can you be so calm about this!?"

"Because it's a minor allergy, silly bot." You cup his face with both hands as his rays flit about. "Do you have any idea how many things have red dye in them? Especially Valentine's candy? I've probably had to take an antihistamine like four times this week already."

You ignore his wide-eyed stare at your statement in favor of pressing your lips to his smile for a moment. "It's my fault for not checking beforehand, not yours. You were just trying to be nice and do something sweet for me. And I appreciate that more than anything. Really, I do. I'm… flattered, honestly." You mumble the last bit, looking away as you comprehend what you just did. 

A hand on your cheek makes you glance back to him, eyes now lidded and tone syrupy. "We're glad..." He shakes his head. "But, still. It won't happen again! Now come on, what you need is proper rest and relaxation!"

Again you're picked up, carried away to be sat in the attendant's lap in a bean bag, blanket suddenly covering you both and a couple of coloring books and crayons appearing out of nowhere. 

"Don't you worry, we'll think up an even better gift to give you before the day is over! I promise!" Sun says as he gets to work on coloring. 

You pause to register everything that just happened, then chuckle, shaking your head. "Okay, but really, it's alright. This is just as thoughtful, you know. But we'll have to clean at some point, don't forget."

Sun hums, and he's so focused you think he only half hears you. You laugh again, and snuggle back into him to get started yourself. As his free hand slings round your waist you feel yourself start to burn up all over again. 

The rest of the afternoon is filled with similar activities, neither attendant letting up at all about 'making it up to you' despite your insistence that you were okay. 

You didn't mind in the slightest though, now snuggled in Moon's arms as you both sit reading. 

"As horrible as it sounds I'm kinda glad you bought those chocolates." You glance up to him, small smile on your face. "I don't think things would've ended up this way if you hadn't."

Moon tsks, though his eyes hold a certain cheekiness. "Maybe not, but that doesn't mean we'll ever be letting it happen again. There are much better ways to end up with you in my arms." He flicks your forehead and you huff. Only to be silenced by a brief peck to your lips. 

He holds something up for you then, and taking a moment to focus you see it's a bundle of paper roses. Looking closer you see some are made from coloring pages, and others from Moon's book. 

"We have plenty of more books of all kinds before you worry. And it was the least we could do considering what happened earlier."

You take the bundle, admiring the detail in each folded piece of paper. "They're lovely. Truly. Thank you both." You twist again to kiss his cheek, then go back to fawning over your present, warm smile on your lips. 

"Once we get ahold of Officer Ryan's credit card again we'll be sure to get you something better, I promise." Moon presses a kiss to the top of your head, and picks up his book once more. 

You pause then. "I, let's not do that—you didn't think to save it?"

"We did. But just inputting it directly isn't nearly as thrilling." He snickers. 

"Moon!" 

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the request @dangerva! I enjoyed writing the sillies panicking (just a little bit) hehe

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist

[darlingdaisyfarm]

You know I've been meaning to ask.. is everything okay? I mean your pfp is blank. I understand you're uploading, but I also want to make sure you're okay

idk if i have some mental connection with you, anon, because how else i can explain that you sent this ask right when i felt so bad??? but yeah i should really put a pfp, i just can’t choose the right pic and at same time im lazy….

honestly i promised myself i wouldn’t vent online and irl because i don’t wanna be annoying or be the kind of person people get tired of. but i guess i just feel emotional rn sorry again

well 2025 kinda kicked me in the face already LMAO, it already reminded me that some people will always pick someone else and some things are just not meant to be yours. i just got reminded once again that i’m super replaceable to person i really loved and cared about. so now im realising that i was just there to pass the time until they found smth better, someone better. and they did, they did and that’s just unfair for me, i literally loved this person for 10 years and that's how i ended up

not exactly the fresh start i was hoping for lol

been feeling like a ghost in my own life lately so i guess i made this blog to just be somewhere, to talk to people, to share things i love, to feel like i exist in some small way. to find friends? idk. sometimes i wonder if i’m just taking up space here, but deleting this blog feels dramatic so whatever. although i thought bout this a lot and still think about it, but i guess im just being... yeah, dramatic, i mean i am, ive been told. so, i don't know, deleting feels rude ? and i don’t wanna be rude, i hate being rude :( i still hesitate every time i post though. and i don’t want to be that person who craves reassurance but damn, it gets lonely and im embarrassed to even say that rn

+ last year drained me so much that i couldn’t even start anything for a whole month. its about my work, i just felt stuck, exhausted before i even tried. things are getting better now with my work, though. it’s actually tied to people and honestly, i love that?? i mean, i love people very much. in general. so whenever i meet someone kind or understanding in my work, it lifts my mood

but when it comes to writing or fics, i feel like i’m always fighting myself. actually i enjoy writing, ive been writing since… 14? 13? so i try, i push through, but nothing ever feels right lately. i don’t know if it’s just a phase or if this is how it’s always going to be. why i always feel like i could’ve done better or that maybe i shouldn’t have posted at all

anyways….. i don’t usually post stuff like this. i really don’t want to be like this, i hate sounding so negative, i really do. i promised myself i wouldn’t. i usually just keep things to myself, but you seemed like you genuinely cared, sweetheart and i figured i might as well be honest, i appreciate your worry! thank u sm angel! ♡

[cosmowgyral]

"The Vicious Wildcat is Clumsily Affectionate"

▪︎ Kagari's 1st Birthday

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

This is my very first time reading and translating a Kagari event and since he's not yet out in the EN servers, there might be terms that will be used differently when he's finally released.

Chapter 1

A while after coming to Kogyoku with the bookstore owner, I noticed that on a certain day, the town was bustling with more people than usual.

Emma: It’s Prince Kagari’s birthday?

Town woman: Yes, it has become a tradition for the whole town to celebrate.

Emma: That’s why it’s so lively.

(I didn’t know it was Prince Kagari’s birthday.)

The town’s residents seem to be in high spirits, and the aroma of dorayaki fills the air.

Town woman: You should wish Prince Kagari as well.

Town woman: I’m sure he’ll be delighted if his favourite lady celebrates with him.

A woman I had become acquainted with since coming to Kogyoku, gives me a shove with an innocent smile.

Town woman: Now if you say you’re having trouble deciding on a present, I’ll help you with it.

Emma: Thank you so much. But, I’d like to think of something to give on my own.

(I wonder what it is. I sense an odd pressure…or maybe it’s just my imagination.)

The woman left in a good mood with words of encouragement, suggesting she was satisfied with my response.

(Whether I’m his favourite or not….I’ve been helped by Prince Kagari many times since coming to Kogyoku.)

(Now that I know it’s his birthday, I have no other choice but to celebrate.)

(Alright…)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

(….Wha-what’s with this huge line?!)

When I packed my bag with the present and headed to the castle, the square was crowded with people who had come to celebrate the yasha [1].

(From swordsmen to nobles…and even commoners, there really is an incredible number of people.)

At the end of the line, I catch a glimpse of a person with striking red hair.

Prince Kagari, standing at a distance, remained expressionless as he received a constant barrage of wishes and gifts.

(He is acting like it’s none of his business. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying this at all.)

As I stood on my toes to have a better look, a pair of emerald eyes greeted mine.

(….Prince Kagari is sensitive to gazes, so I wonder if he noticed.)

(I might have been a nuisance by watching too much.)

I turned away and took shelter under a nearby cherry tree.

(I wonder what I should do. With so many people waiting in the queue, it really is difficult to go and wish him.)

( I wanted to celebrate on his actual birthday, but I guess I’ll have to come back later----huh?)

When I casually looked back, I saw that Prince Kagari had disappeared.

Instead, an aide is standing in his place..and despite not being the yasha, people continue to offer him wishes and presents.

It was a strange sight.

???: You’re wide open, princess.

(!?)

As I turned to face the unexpected voice close to my ear, a hand closed across my mouth.

My back made contact with a tree trunk as I was pulled into the shade of trees.

Emma: Nnnn…!!

(Before I knew it, Prince Kagari had caught me from behind.)

He easily pushed me against the trunk even though I was struggling, and then he brought his face close to mine.

Kagari: Do you promise to behave?

I nodded vigorously and he finally took his hand off my mouth.

However, the distance between us remained the same, and Prince Kagari, with his hands on the trunk behind me, seized me.

 (I need to calm down…)

(Maybe he’s sticking close to me so the others won’t find him.)

I instinctively lower my voice so that my breath doesn't touch him.

Emma: Why are you here, Prince Kagari?

Kagari: I saw you.

Emma: So you came to see me?

Kagari: I came because I thought you called.

(Maybe that’s how it looked to Prince Kagari.)

Even though I feel guilty, my heart was ticklish.

Kagari: If you plan to stand in the line, don’t.

Kagari: It will continue till midnight.

Emma: That long…

Kagari: At night, there's a party. It goes on through the entire night till the wee hours of the morning.

(It’s amazing that they celebrate whole day long. I don’t expect anything less for Kogyoku’s yasha.)

While I was impressed, Prince Kagari remained expressionless.

He looks at the long line like it has nothing to do with him, and his expression is so bleak that it’s hard to believe he is the one being celebrated.

Maybe Prince Kagari isn’t interested in celebrating his birthday.

(…What if he thinks of me as a bother as well?)

Kagari: So, why are you here?

I turned my face away from him.

Emma: Well….there was a huge crowd, so I…was just curious.

(I can’t admit I came to celebrate too.)

I hid the bag with his present behind me.

Prince Kagari paused for a moment.

Amidst the awkward silence, the noises of the crowd felt distant.

(I tried my best to hide it, but it might seem too obvious.)

However, Prince Kagari didn’t say anything and just grabbed my arm.

Kagari: Will you come with me, princess?

Emma: Eh…I..Prince Kagari?

Contrary to his request, I was almost forcefully taken inside the castle in secret….

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Prince Kagari threw me into a room and brought out a large basket from somewhere.

Kagari: Put this on first.

Emma: H..hakama [2]?

Kagari: Next, wrap this around your face.

Emma: A scarf?

Kagari: And finally, put this on your waist.

Emma: A sword..?!

Kagari: Now tie your hair in a ponytail.

Emma: Um…

(Why is he asking to change all of a sudden?)

I tilted my head as I received the things handed to me one after another, and then Prince Kagari picks up the hakama and reaches for my clothes.

Kagari: If you don’t know how to put on hakama I’ll teach you.

Emma: N-no, I’ll try to do as much as I can myself!

(I’m not sure what’s going on but I think it isn’t anything bad---.)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

(----But, why did it come to this?)

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

➽──────────────❥

I think I've found a new favourite in IkePri, guys.

(1) Yasha or yaksha refers to guardian deities in Buddhism. In ancient Japan, these terms were given to demonlike warriors.

(2) Hakama are a type of Japanese trousers.

[thehollowwriter]

RAAAH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS AHSJDJD. I did actually make a post a while back discussing how mysgony and favouritism towards men is especially blatant when it comes to parents. Mr and Mrs Rosehearts, Amity's parents (thank you for that btw I'm tired of Mr Blight being so babied), and even Vi and Silco from Arcane (Vi is not a mom and she and Silco aren't together obviously, but Vi is parentified and demonised as an abusive monster while Silco is regarded as the "best father in animated history")

Mrs Rosehearts is terrible of course, but it's very telling when fans take it and run and suddenly not only is she controlling, now she's homophobic and transphobic and racist even though there is 0 indication of that. Even I fell into this trap in the past, and looking back on it it's nothing but mysgony.

If Mr and Mrs Rosehearts were to trade places, it's very likely that, even though the fandom would still hate him, he would be given mountains of backstory and characterisation that would make him more sympathetic and human. In reality he, like you said, is either ignored or automatically assumed to be a victim too even though his silence and lack of action is also abuse (And, at least in my experience, that makes him almost worse than Mrs Rosehearts)

We barely know anything about Azul's bio dad, and though some people imagine him to be abusive, there's a lot of grace given to his character. If we were to make him Azul's bio mom instead, well, there would be a lot of character bashing and hatred and probably "I think Azul's bio mom is the reason he hates himself actually!" type of shit

Like op says, that it's fairly common to find some creators writing/drawing/etc mainly Mrs Rosehearts getting what she "deserves" by depicting her being hit by car, attacked, mutilated, murdered, having her life ruined, etc. This isn't necessarily bad on it's own, but it's the intense pleasure people get from it feels less like "justice" and more of a reminder of how much people subconsciously love watching female characters suffer even if it's for the most minor of things. It's uncomfortable. It's scary.

I know for a fact if she was a man it would just be "Oh silly Mister Rosehearts you need to go to therapy so you can stop traumatising your son lol" maybe "You need to be bonked on the head/beat up a bit and sent to therapy" at worst. (I'm an avid Rollo defender but even though people are fairly terrible to him, he still gets the "poor guy needs therapy" treatment and is not treated with anywhere near as much vitriol as Mrs Rosehearts)

Lilia, as much as I love him, isn't the best most perfect father in the whole wide world. He loves children deeply of course but he is also unintentionally neglectful and sometimes blind to their struggles (*gestures to book 7*) This is however simply brushed over and ignored (in fact it's treated more like "just silly fae family things") and it's a shame because it really does feel like something that's important to acknowledge.

There's also the problem of side characters who appear in events or in important story moments. Skully? Neige? Baul? Knight of Dawn? Tons of fanart, fanfic, theories, analysis, etc. So much appreciation for their designs, how they're written/their story overall, and so on, even if their appearances are brief. (*cough there's also the fact that Baul's wife gets tossed aside to ship him with Lilia and I've read too many fics where he's just cheating on her and it's just "Eh I didn't love her that much anyway" like come on :/)

But then we get to Najma (though she's a poc girl so she's ignored most of the time)... and Meleanor... and Dilla... hell, even Epel's grandmother, and it's "mommy" and art of them in skimpy clothes that barely hide anything (and in Najma's case from some art I've seen... incredibly racist "hot bellydancer" art) and "Milf! Milf! Milf!" "Ohhh her booobs..." which sure the other side characters got too... but the difference is that isn't *all* they got. People literally fell in love with a MOB STUDENT (Scarabia Student B iirc) and gave him all kinds of lore and characterisation, but these ladies barely get anything.

Yes there is some analysis mainly with Meleanor (but c'mon she's the most popular male twst characters' mom so :/) but there still isn't... much. Nobody cares unless it's turned into something hot and alluring. Nobody has much to say apart from lustful comments about their bodies.

Anyways yeah that's my rant for the day ansnsnsnddndnfn

It really is quite noticeable that when the male characters in TWST (even the one-off ones) do somethings fucked up that there's at least 10 people writing essays on how their pookie is So Much More Complex than that vs a woman being even mentioned negatively by a male character and therefore we get treated to people drawing her "getting what she deserves" and calling her a bitch.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Not As Planned | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

THANK YOU FOR OVER 300 FOLLOWERS?

I am shocked and humbled and just… wow. At a loss. I’ve been working on this XL one-shot for awhile since I've been writing a lot of super cute love confessions and fluff lately. I felt inspired to change it up a little bit, so this is heavier than my usual stuff... (maybe this qualifies as whump?? Idk lmk ahaha)

But consider this my humble thank you for your continued support. I am just… I can’t believe so many people have been compelled to follow me because of my silly little writing hobby.

With that said I’m sorry for the pain this might cause (but at the same time in a much more real sense I’m not sorry at all bahaha)

And don’t worry, still a (mostly) happy ending.

Words: ~14,500

Tags/TW: SA, Violence, Trauma, Modern AU, Reader Insert, Female MC, Plus Size MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Muggle Born MC, Post Hogwarts, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Drama, Romance, Jealousy and Longing, Confessions

The low hum of the bar buzzed like a low-grade static in Sebastian’s ears. A smooth jazz ensemble played in the corner, their music rich and sultry, threading through the room like smoke. Golden light bathed the space, casting everything in soft amber hues that made the whole place feel a little unreal. Along the curved bar, bottles of rare liquors glittered like jewels, and the faint scent of citrus and something floral—lavender, maybe—lingered in the air.

It was a far cry from their usual haunts.

Sebastian ran his fingers around the rim of his glass, trailing condensation down to the base. The whiskey in front of him wasn’t his first, and it wouldn’t be his last. Across from him, Ominis sat with the casual poise that came so easily to him, his chin balanced on one hand while his other traced absent patterns along the bar's polished surface. He looked relaxed, though Sebastian knew better. If the subtle flush on his pale cheeks wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the way his lips twitched faintly every time Poppy’s name came up certainly was.

Beside him, Garreth Weasley was anything but subtle. Loud as ever, he laughed and gestured animatedly, mid-story about some disastrous experiment he’d tried at the pub last weekend.

“…and then, right as I’m about to take a sip, she snatches it out of my hand, takes one look at it, and says—and I quote—‘You have a death wish, don’t you?’ Can you imagine? The nerve!” Garreth threw his hands up in mock indignation. “It wasn’t even that bad. Just rum, peach schnapps, absinthe—”

“One day,” Ominis cut in smoothly, tilting his head toward Garreth with the faintest smirk. “You will be tried for your alcoholic war crimes, Weasley.”

Sebastian snorted into his drink, unable to help himself. He'd need both hands to count the number of times Garreth had walked into a bar and pestered the bartender to mix him something absolutely disastrous.

It was a wonder they still got served anywhere.

Garreth scoffed, taking an exaggerated sip of his neon-colored monstrosity. “You just don’t appreciate true genius.”

Ominis arched a brow. “If by ‘genius,’ you mean ‘reckless disregard for the structural integrity of your liver,’ then yes, I'm terribly ungrateful.”

Sebastian smirked, but his attention flickered toward the entrance—again. The girls weren’t even late, not technically, but every passing minute stretched unbearably. He should have been used to this feeling by now, this sharp-edged anticipation curling low in his chest.

He wasn’t. He never was. It was always like this, wasn’t it?

The waiting. The wanting.

Sebastian had spent over a decade orbiting around you, trapped in some endless, torturous loop of almosts—of lingering touches, stolen glances, conversations that danced too close to the edge of something he didn’t dare name. The worst part? It was his own doing. He’d had every opportunity to cross that invisible line, to tell you what he felt, what he ached for, but he never did.

Because once he did, there would be no undoing it.

Meanwhile, everyone else in their group was paired off now. Garreth and Natty had been inseparable since a Ministry event a few years back, and Poppy and Ominis had been as good as married the moment Hogwarts spat them out. Imelda had ended up with Nerida, to the surprise of no one, the two of them making up a formidable duo—one sharp-tongued and reckless, the other quietly cutting.

Sebastian was happy for them. Truly, he was. It was almost sickening how well it had worked out for everyone. They’d all somehow ended up with their Hogwarts sweethearts, riding off into the sunset with picture-perfect endings that looked like something out of a fairy tale.

And then there was him.

The idiot who’d spent 11 years hopelessly in love with his best friend and done absolutely nothing about it.

At first, it had been easier to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. You were best friends. You had always been best friends. Of course you were close. Of course you knew each other better than anyone. So what if you had a habit of leaning against him whenever you were tired, or if you always reached for him first when something made you laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe? So what if you touched him more than anyone else, if you let your fingers brush his wrist when you passed him a drink or hooked your ankle around his under the table without thinking about it?

It had always been like that. Until one day, it wasn’t. Until one day, when he was 15, he’d looked at you, and his stomach had flipped, and suddenly, every innocent touch, every laugh, every glance, felt different. Felt like something else entirely.

And now? Now he was fucking trapped.

Ominis’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You’ll get wrinkles early if you keep scowling like that.”

Sebastian glanced up, narrowing his eyes at the smirk tugging on Ominis’s mouth. The bastard didn’t even need to see him to read him like an open book.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” Sebastian muttered, taking a long sip of his drink.

Ominis didn’t respond, just tipped his head slightly, his expression bordering on smug. He didn’t need to say anything. The unspoken truth hung between them like smoke—Sebastian’s feelings for you were obvious to everyone but you.

Garreth leaned in suddenly, jarring him. “Relax, mate. They’ll show up. Natty wouldn’t miss this for the world, and she’d drag the others along if she had to.” He paused to sip his drink, a mischievous grin spreading over his face. “Although, Poppy’s probably the one making them late. You know how she loves to test Ominis’s patience.”

“More like Natty’s,” Ominis muttered, though there was no heat in it.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and turned toward the door again, restless. The moment stretched, his fingers tapping absently against the side of his glass. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t waiting for you—not like that. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t counting down the seconds until you walked through the door, wasn’t anticipating the sound of your voice, wasn’t wondering what you’d look like tonight, what you’d—

And then the door opened.

And everything else stopped.

Because there you were.

You moved through the room with easy confidence, utterly unaware of the way you were undoing him. That dress—fuck, that dress—it wasn’t something outrageous, wasn’t scandalous or overtly suggestive, but it didn’t need to be. It followed the soft curves of your body, hugged your waist, your plush thighs, the full flare of your hips in a way that made his pulse hammer violently against his ribs. Every step you took made it shift, just enough to tease, just enough to remind him that he should not be thinking about this.

And yet, his mind was already lost to darker places, caught in the dangerous, helpless imagining of how it might feel beneath his fingers. The silky fabric sliding beneath his hands, the warmth of your skin under it. How it would be if he were close enough to touch, to trace the shape of you properly, to press his hands into the softness of your waist and feel the weight of you against him.

His fingers tightened around his glass so hard he swore it might crack.

Garreth chuckled under his breath, clearly entertained, “Good luck tonight, Sallow."

Ominis said nothing, but Sebastian didn’t need to see him smirking to know exactly what was going through his mind.

It was humiliating, really, how easy it was for them to see right through him. And you? You just kept moving, oblivious to the chaos you were leaving in your wake.

Sebastian watched as you approached, your laugh bright and sweet as Natsai caught your hand, spinning you once in an exaggerated flourish as if to show you off. You humored her, swaying playfully, rolling your eyes when Imelda cat-called in approval.

Then, before he could steel himself, before he could brace for the inevitable destruction you always left in your wake, your eyes landed on him again.

And fuck, that smile.

It was warm, unguarded, laced with something soft. The kind of smile that was effortless, unconscious, the kind that made his stomach drop because it meant you were happy to see him. Because you looked at him like he was something good, something familiar and safe, and it tore him to shreds inside.

He forced himself to exhale. To not look like some love-struck fool drowning in you.

“About time,” he said as you sidled up beside him, leaning back against the bar in a way he hoped looked casual.

You rolled your eyes, slipping onto a stool, your shoulder brushing his. “I had to make sure you suffered a little first.”

“You’re a cruel woman.”

“I’m a patient woman,” you corrected, lifting a brow. “I got us on the guest list here weeks ago, so if I have to hear you complain about the wait, I will take my very expensive cocktail and pour it directly into your lap.”

Sebastian huffed, feigning offense. “You wouldn’t.”

You turned, propping your chin on your hand as you looked at him, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Try me.”

His stomach twisted violently. He didn’t know how you did this—how you made him feel like you could see right through him, like you knew exactly how wrecked he was and were enjoying every moment of it.

He forced himself to focus, to shift his attention somewhere safe.

Unfortunately, there was nowhere safe.

Because now, he was looking at your lips, parted just slightly in a teasing smirk, glossed and inviting and fuck—

He needed another drink. Immediately.

Before he could even flag the bartender down, Garreth leaned into your space with a dramatic sigh his arm wrapped around Natsai's waist. “Seriously though, what took you so long? Sebastian’s been brooding all night.”

You shot him a knowing look. “Has he now?”

Garreth smirked, tipping his glass toward Ominis. “Oh, yeah. Gaunt here tried to warn him about wrinkles.”

You chuckled, leaning slightly into Sebastian’s shoulder in a way that sent a full-body shudder down his spine. “I told you, Seb. Stress is bad for you.”

He tried to smirk, to give you some smart remark, but he knew it wouldn’t come out right. His brain was still lagging on the fact that your body was pressing against his.

Garreth, oblivious as ever, continued rambling. “Honestly, it was embarrassing. I think he almost—”

Sebastian elbowed him sharply, causing Garreth to spill his drink.

Natty, taking pity, pulled him back. “Come on, Garreth. Leave the poor man alone.”

“Fine, fine.” Garreth grinned, clearly not remotely deterred, but let himself be steered away.

Sebastian sighed, dragging a hand through his hair before turning back to you. “So? Was it worth the wait?”

You hummed, taking in the warm, intimate atmosphere, the soft glow of the speakeasy lights. The way the gold hues caught in your eyes nearly killed him.

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied with a smile. "It looks so authentic, like just look at the bar, Seb. The design is almost spot on to the real ones from the Prohibition era—mahogany, brass accents, those exact kind of light fixtures..."

Sebastian tried to focus on your words, really he did.

You were onto talking about speakeasy history now, eyes gleaming with excitement as you gestured toward the dim lighting, the low, rich hum of the jazz band. You’d clearly done your research, and you were rattling off facts with that same enthusiasm you always had for things you loved. It was so endearing. You could make anything sound interesting.

“Well, technically, speakeasies originated during the Prohibition era in America,” you were saying, leaning forward slightly, the low L ight catching in your hair. “They were hidden bars—illegal drinking spots since alcohol was banned. They had secret passwords, hidden entrances, all that. Some were even run by gangsters—people like Al Capone—because bootlegging was so lucrative.”

Sebastian nodded, trying to pay attention, but it was impossible. Because, as much as he loved hearing you nerd out, his brain had zero capacity for historical facts when every single one of your friends had immediately paired off around him.

At the bar, Natty was leaned into Garreth’s side, her hand resting lightly on his chest as he ordered her a drink, his voice dipping into something low and teasing that made her smile. A few feet away, Poppy had sidled up to Ominis, fingers barely brushing against his wrist in that quiet, intimate way they always did. Meanwhile, Imelda and Nerida had wasted no time making themselves comfortable, tucked into a plush booth, heads close together, already lost in each other.

And then there was you. With him. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you belonged here, beside him. Like you were his.

Except—you weren’t.

Sebastian swallowed hard, fingers curling around his glass.

It was a cruel fucking thing, this closeness you gave him so easily. Because it wasn’t real, was it? Not really. You were just you. His best friend. Close enough to touch, to tease, to wreck him without even realizing it. But never his.

Never really his.

“…they even had hidden tunnels sometimes,” you continued. “The really fancy ones had hidden rooms, secret staircases, all kinds of tricks. Some of them were in basements, some behind fake storefronts. People had to whisper the password when they got in, which is where the term ‘speakeasy’ comes from.”

Sebastian barely registered what you were saying and you sighed, finally noticing the way he was watching you.

“You’re not listening, are you?”

Sebastian blinked.

“No,” he admitted, because what was the point in lying?

You rolled your eyes, exasperated, but there was no real bite to it.

“Well, at least you’re honest.”

Sebastian smirked. “Always.”

You huffed, clearly unimpressed. “So, what were you thinking about?”

He should have said something teasing, something to deflect, but then you leaned in, just slightly, your head tilting, and Sebastian was drowning.

There was too much warmth in your eyes, too much softness in the way you looked at him, and for one reckless second, he thought maybe. Maybe this wasn’t one-sided. Maybe you knew. Maybe you felt it too.

Sebastian cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away, to wave down the bartender like they might save him.

“Nothing important,” he lied.

You studied him for a beat longer, and then, before you could say another word—

“What can I get for you?”

Mercifully, the bartender appeared, their voice smooth, professional.

Sebastian exhaled and leaned against the bar, grateful for something else to focus on. “Whiskey and Coke.”

The bartender nodded, about to turn away when Sebastian jerked his chin toward you. “And whatever she wants.”

You huffed then rolled your eyes. “I can pay for myself, you know.”

“I know,” Sebastian said, smirking as he propped his elbow against the bar, resting his chin in his hand. “But since I’m clearly suffering through your history lesson, consider it payment.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, suffering, are you?”

“Excruciatingly.”

“Fine,” you sighed, faux exasperation in your tone, turning back to the bartender. “I’ll take the signature cocktail then, since it’s on his dime.”

Sebastian smirked, shaking his head. “Figures.”

The bartender chuckled and disappeared to prepare the drinks, leaving the two of you to settle back into the warmth of the speakeasy’s golden glow.

Sebastian let himself relax, narrowing his eyes slightly. “So? This drink of yours—what’s in it?”

You lifted a brow, amusement flickering across your expression. “Trying to impress me with your knowledge of mixology?”

“Absolutely not.” He snorted. “Just trying to gauge how badly I’m about to regret funding your expensive taste.”

You laughed, the sound warm, easy. “You’ll live. It’s gin with elderflower liqueur, citrus, a little honey, some kind of infused vermouth—oh, and a sprig of rosemary for flair. They call it The Whisper.”

Sebastian snorted. “That’s a lot of effort for a single drink.”

“That’s the whole point of a speakeasy, you loser,” you teased, nudging your shoulder against his. “It’s all about the craft.”

He rolled his eyes but grinned. “And here I thought we were just here to drink.”

“Well, that too.”

Your drinks arrived, and you lifted your cocktail, inspecting it with a satisfied little nod before taking a sip. The moment your lips met the rim of the glass, Sebastian had to fight back another surge of inconvenient thoughts—the gloss on your mouth leaving the faintest sheen against the glass, the way your lashes fluttered slightly as you tasted it, considering the balance of flavors.

“It’s so good,” you told him, swirling the liquid lightly in your glass. “Floral, a little sweet, but not too much.”

Sebastian hummed, sipping his drink as he watched you. “Glad to know my money’s going to a worthy cause.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “You know, you never did answer my question.”

Sebastian blinked. “What question?”

You gave him a look—one that told him you knew he was dodging. “What you were thinking about earlier while you ignored my history lesson.”

His grip on his glass tightened for half a second, but before he could come up with a clever retort to get out of this, a new voice cut in—bright, excited.

“Hey you!”

Poppy.

She appeared out of nowhere, seizing your wrist before you could protest. “Come dance with us!”

Your eyes widened. “Poppy—wait—”

But Poppy was relentless, already tugging you toward the dance floor with surprising strength. “Nope, no arguments! Come on!”

Sebastian watched, amused and relieved, as you shot him a look over your shoulder—half entertained, half exasperated—before you disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by the glow of the dance floor, and just like that, you were gone.

A slow, knowing voice hummed beside him.

“She got away from you rather quickly.”

Ominis.

Sebastian scowled. “Don’t start."

The blonde sipped his drink, the picture of smug amusement. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Sebastian shot him a flat look. “You were absolutely going to say something.”

Ominis smirked. “Well, if you insist—”

Sebastian groaned, tossing back a sip of his whiskey and coke before slamming the glass down with a bit more force than necessary. “I don’t. I really, really don’t.”

“You’re in rare form tonight,” Ominis continued, swirling the last of his drink lazily in his glass. “I think I might even pity you.”

Sebastian shot him a glare. “I don’t need your pity.”

“No, but you do need a strategy,” Ominis mused, setting his empty glass down with a soft clink. “Because, at this rate, I fear I’ll be married before you confess to her.”

Sebastian scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from you. Took you 8 years to say anything to Poppy.”

Ominis simply smirked. “And yet, here I am, in a committed relationship, while you’re still over here brooding into your drink like a lovesick schoolboy.”

Sebastian groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin’s sake, Ominis.”

“What?” Ominis asked, feigning innocence. “It’s painful watching you, you know. I can hear the longing.”

Sebastian scowled. “I do not long.”

Ominis turned his head toward him, lips curling ever so slightly. “Sebastian. Poppy said you stared at her mouth for a full ten seconds while she was talking about her drink.”

Sebastian flushed, gripping his glass a little too hard. “It wasn’t ten seconds.”

Ominis hummed. “It was.”

Sebastian wanted to slam his forehead into the bar.

This was his own personal hell.

Garreth sauntered over before he could wallow too deeply, plopping onto the stool beside him with a lazy grin. He slung an arm over the bar, casting a glance toward the dance floor.

“Mate, you are so obvious,” Garreth said, sipping his drink. “It’s honestly impressive.”

Sebastian gave him a flat look. “Did you come over just to harass me?”

“Pretty much,” Garreth said cheerfully.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to throw back the rest of his drink.

Garreth followed his gaze toward the dance floor, where you were now laughing at something Natty had said, your body swaying to the rhythm of the music. The warm amber lighting bathed your skin, the movement of the crowd shifting around you in slow, rhythmic waves.

And fuck, you looked good. Too good. Sebastian took another sip of his whiskey, trying to ignore the ache curling in his chest.

“So,” Garreth said, propping his chin in his hand. “What’s the plan?”

Sebastian glanced at him. “What?”

“The plan,” Garreth repeated. “You know—the one where you finally do something about your massive, crushing, soul-consuming love for her?”

Sebastian groaned. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Mate, we have to do this right now,” Garreth said, motioning toward the dance floor. “Because if you don’t do something soon, some other guy will.”

Sebastian stiffened. Because this? This was the one thing he never let himself think about for too long.

For years, he had convinced himself there was time. That things would work out naturally, that you’d both just… fall into place.

It wasn’t as if you had never been with anyone. You had, a few times during school, in the careless, fleeting way that teenagers fell in and out of things. But nothing had ever stuck. Nothing had ever felt like it mattered. And when they ended, Sebastian had always been there.

Your constant.

The one person you always came back to.

It had reassured him, in some selfish, pathetic way. Let him believe that you weren’t really going anywhere. That whatever was between you—whatever was building between you—would always be there, waiting, until you both figured it out.

But then you’d fallen for him.

Your first real, serious boyfriend. The one who had made Sebastian’s life hell for over a year.

He had hated every goddamn second of it. Hated watching you be with someone else, hated the way you had looked at him—like that—like he was yours. Hated seeing another man have what should have been his.

And what had he done? Nothing. Because he hadn’t been brave enough.

He had let it happen. He had let himself smile and nod and pretend to be happy for you. He had let himself sit on the sidelines and watch.

And then, when it was over—when it had all fallen apart—he had been there. Of course, he had. But you never told him what happened, and Sebastian never asked for details. Never pressed, never pried. All he knew was that one day, it was over, and you didn’t talk about it.

And if Sebastian had felt relieved? If some ugly, selfish part of him had thrived in the knowledge that you were single again?

Well. That was between him and the whiskey.

But that was over a year ago now, and Garreth was right.

You were moving forward, and Sebastian no longer had the luxury of time. You weren’t seventeen anymore. You weren’t in school, fumbling through fleeting relationships just for the sake of them. You were a grown woman—beautiful, incredible, desirable—and when you chose someone now, it would be for something real.

Something long-term. Something permanent.

And the idea of someone else—some faceless stranger—walking up to you on the dance floor, flashing you a grin, letting their hands wander over your waist, pulling you close like they had any right—fuck. That alone was bad enough. But the thought of someone keeping you, of some other man being the one you turned to at the end of the day, the one who got to wake up beside you, touch you freely, know you in ways Sebastian never had the chance to—

It made something inside his chest splinter, burn so hot and fierce he swore it might ruin him.

Across from him, Garreth was watching, expression infuriatingly smug.

“So,” he said, lazily swirling the ice in his drink. “How’s that plan coming along?”

Sebastian dragged a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to groan.

“Garreth.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Garreth grinned. “See, I would, but you’re being so fun to watch right now.”

Sebastian scowled, about to say something sharp and unhelpful, but his tongue turned to lead the moment he caught sight of you again.

You had slowed, your dancing shifting into something softer, something more. Natty had turned away, distracted by Poppy tugging her toward another group, and now you were swaying on your own, hands drifting absently down your sides as if lost in the rhythm. Your body moved without thought, your dress hugging the curves of your hips in ways that sent something dark curling in Sebastian’s stomach.

He watched as your eyes fluttered closed, lost in the music, the soft golden glow of the lights painting your skin in honeyed warmth.

And then, like clockwork, it happened.

Some man—some fucking man—noticed you.

Sebastian saw it before it even began, could feel the exact moment the stranger’s gaze landed on you, lingering.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of polished that came with old money, and he was looking at you like he wanted you.

And you—unaware, oblivious—were still dancing. Still open. Still approachable.

Sebastian’s blood ran hot.

Garreth, always a shit-disturber, let out a low whistle. “Ohhh, this is gonna be good.”

Sebastian didn’t even register him, because the stranger was already moving, crossing the floor toward you with intent, cutting through the slow sway of bodies, an easy grin sliding into place.

Sebastian barely heard Garreth mutter, yep, there it is, before he was already moving.

Not thinking—just moving, standing, glass forgotten, feet carrying him across the floor with single-minded purpose.

The stranger reached you first, but Sebastian wasn’t far behind, and he saw the exact moment the man’s hand started to lift—reaching for you, moving into your space.

And he saw the way you instinctively leaned back, a subtle but unmistakable recoil, your easy smile dimming as you shook your head, declining whatever offer the guy had just made.

And before the bastard could press further—before he could try again—Sebastian was there.

His body cut smoothly between you, stepping into your space so fast and close that you had to tilt your head up in surprise, your eyes widening at him.

The stranger hesitated, thrown off by his sudden arrival, but Sebastian didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t even fucking blink in his direction.

Because you? You were looking at him. And only him.

Your lips parted slightly, something caught between confusion and surprise, but Sebastian didn’t give you a chance to question it.

Sebastian held out a hand.

“Dance with me.”

Not a request. Not a suggestion. A command.

Your brows lifted slightly at the shift in his voice, but you didn’t hesitate. Because of course you didn’t. You trusted him.

Your fingers slid into his, warm and soft, and Sebastian nearly exhaled in relief.

Because just like that, the moment was over.

The stranger lingered for only a second longer before turning away, disappearing into the crowd.

Gone. Good.

Then you sighed—a small, quiet thing, barely noticeable over the music—and glanced up at him, a flicker of something unreadable in your expression.

“Thanks for that,” you murmured, voice lower now, more serious than it had been all night.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed slightly. “For what?”

Your lips pressed together for a second, as if debating whether to say anything. Then, finally:

“That guy was talking to our group earlier, too.”

Sebastian’s grip on your waist tightened, his mood immediately souring. Because how had he not noticed? How had he been sitting at that bar this whole damn time, so hyper-focused on you, so obsessed, and not seen some asshole lurking around you and the other girls? A slow, simmering anger curled in his gut.

“Did he say anything to you?” His voice was sharper than he meant it to be.

You shook your head. “Just… you know.” You made a vague gesture, rolling your eyes slightly. “The usual.”

Sebastian’s jaw flexed. No, he didn’t know. Because he wasn’t you.

He didn’t know what it was like to be someone like you—gorgeous, open, effortlessly magnetic—constantly dealing with men who thought that just because you were kind, just because you smiled, just because you laughed and danced, it meant they had a chance.

It made something dark coil inside him, something ugly. Something possessive.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, trying—failing—to push it down.

“Did he touch you?” he asked, voice quieter now, lower, but hard.

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the edge in his tone.

“No,” you said after a beat, shaking your head.

Sebastian didn’t realize how much tension he had been holding until the word left your mouth. Didn’t realize how furious he had been, how much his hands had itched to grab that bastard by the collar and drag him outside just for thinking he had the right to put his hands on you.

“You don’t have to look like that,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly.

Sebastian raised a brow, his smirk automatic but strained. “Like what?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Like you’re about to storm out of here and commit a felony.”

Sebastian didn’t deny it.

"You should let me fight someone for you at least once," he muttered, only half-joking.

You grinned. "Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?"

"More than you know."

"Violence isn’t the answer, Sallow," you sing-songed.

He smirked. "It’s a good answer, though."

You shook your head, still laughing, still entirely too light while Sebastian was over here barely holding himself together. And then, just to kill him, you leaned in, pressing your forehead lightly against his chest.

"I’m okay, Seb," you murmured.

Just like that, the anger drained from his body. Because if you weren’t upset, if you weren’t shaken, if you were still smiling up at him like this—like he was something good, something safe—then how was he supposed to hold onto his fury?

The song slowed, the deep bass fading into the last lingering notes of the melody. The hum of conversation filled the space again, bodies shifting, moving apart, laughter rising over the murmur of the next song beginning.

Sebastian barely noticed because you were still close—your forehead resting against his chest, your breath warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. And just as easily as you had leaned into him, you pulled back and reached for his hand, fingers sliding against his.

“I need another drink.”

And Sebastian—who would have followed you anywhere, who always had—went without question.

He let you lead him through the crowd, past shifting bodies and hushed conversation, back toward the bar where your friends had gathered, voices raised in lively debate.

Garreth was the first to notice your return, his grin downright wicked as he clocked your joined hands.

“Look who decided to grace us with their presence,” he drawled, handing Sebastian a pint of beer. “Have a nice dance?”

Sebastian ignored him, but you just rolled your eyes, releasing his hand as you slid onto a stool. “I did, actually. What’s all this?”

Nerida, perched beside Imelda, snorted. “They’re making bets on what Poppy has gotten Ominis into this time.”

You blinked. “Where've they gone?”

“She dragged him off about twenty minutes ago,” Imelda said, smirking over the rim of her glass. “Into one of the side rooms.”

Sebastian felt your laughter before he heard it—the way your shoulders shook, the way you leaned slightly into his side, your warmth pressing into him once again.

“Oh no,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Poor Ominis.”

Garreth grinned. “Poor Ominis?” He gestured wildly with his glass. "That man's probably having the time of his bloody life right now! In fact, Natty, I'd be more than happy to—"

Natty cut him off with a sharp look, arching a brow. “Don’t finish that sentence, Weasley.”

Nerida, still nursing her drink, smirked. “So, what are the odds? Did she lure him in with something harmless, or is Ominis about to lose all dignity?”

“Fifteen galleons says he’s getting head at this very second," Imelda said with a grin, tapping her fingers against the bar.

Garreth howled with laughter, nearly spilling his drink. “Oh, Merlin, I wish I had that kind of faith in Poppy, but in public?! I don't know, Mel.”

Natty groaned, covering her face with her hands. “For the love of God—”

Nerida just smirked, tilting her glass toward Imelda. “Bold bet. You really think Poppy’s got it in her?”

Imelda snorted. “Look, I’m just saying—quiet ones are always the freakiest.”

Sebastian choked on his beer.

Garreth, still grinning, wiped at his eyes. “Ten galleons says she is at least getting handsy.”

“Five says he’s just standing there awkwardly while she tells him fun facts about kneazles,” Natty countered, shaking her head.

Sebastian smirked, shaking his head. “I’d put twenty on him hexing us all into oblivion if he knew what was going on right now.”

Garreth cackled. “A safe bet.”

The conversation was rapidly descending into chaos when, right on cue, Ominis’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and unimpressed.

“I hate all of you.”

The group collectively turned to see Ominis standing there, looking thoroughly unimpressed, Poppy at his side looking suspiciously pleased with herself.

Garreth, delighted, clapped his hands together. “There he is! So… how’d it go, lover boy?”

Ominis’s expression darkened. “I will hex you.”

You grinned, still trying to contain your laughter. “Tell us what happened, Omins.”

Ominis’s face went red. Not just a faint flush—fully red, the kind of embarrassment that spelled immediate entertainment for everyone involved. And Poppy, the absolute menace, lifted a hand to her mouth, failing miserably at stifling her laughter.

The group lost it, and Ominis looked like he wanted to die.

Garreth cackled, nearly spilling his drink as he clutched his stomach.

Nerida slammed a hand on the bar, wheezing. “Oh my God."

Imelda, grinning like the devil herself, leaned forward. “Right, then. Who’s paying up the fifteen galleons?”

Ominis exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “I swear to Merlin, if one more person so much as suggests—”

Garreth clapped him on the back, grinning wildly. “So, that’s a no on the getting head, then?”

Ominis’s expression darkened so fast it was almost impressive, but before he could truly commit to murder, Nerida—ever the peacemaker—tilted her head toward the back corner of the bar.

“Alright, alright—before Ominis does something irreversible, who’s up for a round of pool?”

This was met with general agreement—mostly because the alcohol was settling in enough that no one felt like sitting still anymore.

Sebastian, still thoroughly amused, tipped back the rest of his drink before pushing away from the bar, waiting for you to follow.

And you did. Of course you did.

In fact, Sebastian was pleased—very pleased—when you stuck by his side for the rest of the evening.

You could have easily wandered off, flitted between groups, danced again. But instead, you leaned against the table, sipping your drink, laughing at Garreth’s terrible pool skills, rolling your eyes at Imelda’s trash talk, nudging Sebastian with your hip whenever he made a particularly cocky shot.

It was good.

The night stretched on in a golden haze, full of too much laughter, too many drinks, and the kind of warm, buzzing atmosphere that made it far too easy to forget that the outside world existed at all.

Except.

Sebastian noticed—drunkenly, hazily, slowly noticed—that something was off.

It wasn’t obvious, but it was there nonetheless. The girls were still laughing, still drinking, still teasing them mercilessly over every terrible shot at pool. But they weren’t leaving. And that was weird.

Because usually—after enough drinks, after enough games—the girls always migrated. They’d get bored of pool, tired of darts, and drift off to dance, or find a quieter table to sit at and gossip.

But not tonight. Tonight, they were sticking close.

Poppy, usually the first to suggest another round on the dance floor, was still here, sitting comfortably at Ominis's side, chatting animatedly with Natty while Garreth ordered them drinks.

Nerida and Imelda, who normally found excuses to disappear for a bit, were locked in an intense conversation while still staying within view of everyone else.

And you were still beside him.

And maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the way the room had tilted slightly when he stood up earlier. But Sebastian’s brain, slow and sluggish, finally caught up to the creeping thought that had been lurking in the background since you'd danced with him.

Was it because of him? That man from earlier?

Sebastian turned his head slightly, scanning the bar. He hadn’t thought about him in hours, but now that he was... where the hell did he go?

Sebastian’s fingers tightened around his drink, a slow, simmering anger curling back into his gut. Because if you—and the others—had been sticking close all night, had been keeping within reach of them instead of doing what you usually did…

Then what did that mean? Had that bastard scared you?

But then—

“Seb?”

Your voice cut through the haze, your fingers curling around his wrist, tugging lightly. He turned, and whatever dark, brooding thoughts had been creeping into his mind vanished.

Because fuck, you were drunk. Not messy, not too far gone, but just enough. Your eyes were hazy with warmth, your grin lopsided, and when you pulled him slightly closer, there was the faintest slur in your words.

You swayed slightly. “D’you wanna sit? M’legs feel all… floaty.”

And just like that, Sebastian forgot about everything else. The man. The unease. The lingering feeling that something was wrong. Because now? Now he was only looking at you.

You, standing just a little too close, your body warm with alcohol, your hair a little mussed, your expression soft.

You, blinking up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted like you were trying to work through whatever lazy, meandering thought had just slipped into your mind.

Sebastian smirked, setting his drink down. “Those cocktails stronger than you thought?”

You huffed, swaying slightly as you nudged his arm. “So much stronger.”

Sebastian barely bit back a laugh. “Lightweight.”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “How dare—”

Sebastian grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders before you could wobble too much.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, guiding you toward one of the plush loveseats behind the pool table. “Let’s get you off those floaty legs.”

You hummed, leaning into him a little too easily, like it was natural, like this was where you belonged. And fuck, if that wasn’t a dangerous thought.

Sebastian exhaled slowly, guiding you down before sitting beside you, letting his arm rest along the back of the chair, leaving just enough room for you to lean into him if you wanted to.

You let out a small hum, tilting your head back slightly to look at him, eyes half-lidded, hazy with alcohol. Then—out of nowhere—you reached for his hand.

Sebastian blinked, watching, completely dumbfounded, as you grabbed his wrist, pulling his palm toward yours. You pressed your hand flat against his, comparing sizes, your fingers barely reaching the first knuckle of his own.

And you beamed.

“Merlin,” you murmured, like you were discovering something truly profound, flexing your fingers against his. “Why are your hands so big?”

Sebastian swallowed hard, staring at the sight of your palm against his, at the way your much smaller fingers curled slightly around his own.

He barely found his voice. “Dunno. Why are yours so small?”

You giggled, tilting your head at him. “D’you think if I had big hands, I’d be better at pool?”

Sebastian huffed a laugh, his chest tight. “You’re already better than Garreth. No changes necessary.”

You gasped dramatically. “Poor Garreth.”

“He deserves it.”

You snorted, then curled your fingers between his, lacing them loosely together. Just resting there. Just holding. Sebastian nearly blacked out.

You didn’t even seem to realize what you were doing, just looked down at your intertwined hands with an easy, alcohol-softened smile before shifting again, tucking yourself even closer into his side.

“You always smell nice, too."

Always. That meant you’d noticed before. You noticed him.

Sebastian forced himself to clear his throat, trying for something casual—something to keep from absolutely combusting.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “What do I smell like?”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Like…” Your brows scrunched slightly, like you were trying to pinpoint it exactly. “Something warm. Like... like… cinnamon. And cloves. And something kind of… smoky? But not in a bad way. Just… cozy.”

Sebastian was about to die. Right here. Right fucking here, in this speakeasy, drunk with you pressed against him, completely unaware that you were absolutely wrecking him. And then, because you weren’t done ruining his life, you sighed. All content and pleased and nestled against his side like you belonged there, like this was normal, like you weren’t setting his entire fucking world on fire.

“And you’re always so warm,” you murmured.

Sebastian’s throat bobbed as he forced something out.

“You cold?” he asked, trying to sound unaffected.

You hummed, nuzzling slightly into his shoulder. “Not anymore.”

Sebastian was dangerously close to losing his mind, and he needed a distraction. Immediately.

“So,” he said, shifting slightly, trying to ignore how easily your body moved with his, “since I did such a terrible job listening last time, how about another speakeasy lesson?”

You perked up instantly, blinking at him in adorable surprise, then huffed, amused. “Oh, so now you’re interested?”

Sebastian smirked. “Figured I should at least pretend to be an attentive student.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting slightly in your seat to face him better—though, in your drunken state, that mostly meant you leaned even more into his side.

“Well,” you began, slipping into a more thoughtful tone, “like I was saying before you zoned out completely, speakeasies got their name because people had to speak easy—keep their voices down so they wouldn’t get caught.”

Sebastian nodded like this was brand new information, even though he vaguely remembered you mentioning it earlier. Meanwhile, you draped your arms over your lap, tilting your head against the back of the loveseat as you spoke, your words a little slower, your thoughts a little more meandering.

“But what’s funny,” you continued, your finger tracing absentminded circles against the fabric of your dress, “is that even though the entire point was secrecy, some speakeasies were huge. Like, big bands, huge dance floors, completely over-the-top. They wanted the allure, the glamour, y’know?”

Sebastian did not know.

Because he was too busy watching the way your lips moved around your words, the way your lashes fluttered when you got lost in a thought, the way your entire body seemed to sway slightly with the rhythm of your own storytelling.

This was not helping his situation.

At all.

“So some of them weren’t hidden?” he asked, if only to remind himself to keep his brain functional.

You shook your head, a little slower than usual. “Not really. Like, technically, you still had to know someone to get in. They had passwords, secret entrances… but everyone knew where they were.”

Sebastian hummed, watching the way you twirled a loose strand of hair around your finger. “So what you’re saying,” he mused, smirking, “is that criminals are just show-offs?”

You snorted, rolling your head to the side to look at him. “That’s what you took from that?”

He grinned. “Am I wrong?”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “No, you’re not wrong, but historically speaking—”

Sebastian could have stayed here forever. You, curled into his side, talking about some random bit of history you’d read in a book. Your voice laced with alcohol, your words a little softer, a little slower, but still so full of excitement. It was so easy. So perfect.

His fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your dress, twirling the soft material between his fingertips, completely absorbed in the warmth of the moment, in the way you looked at him, in the way—

Then you let out a heavy sigh, shifting against him.

“I need to break the seal,” you muttered, groaning dramatically.

Sebastian blinked, momentarily thrown from his thoughts.

You pouted, stretching slightly as you tilted your head toward him. “I have to pee,” you clarified. “And I don’t wanna move.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “That is a tragedy.”

You groaned, snuggling further into the cushions, making no move to actually get up. “Ugh, this sucks. I'm so comfy.”

He nudged you lightly. “Go on, love, I'll be right here when you get back.”

You whined, literally whined, before finally, reluctantly pushing yourself up. You stretched as you stood—your dress shifting dangerously as you straightened yourself—and Sebastian was definitely not looking. Not at the way your dress shifted up the curve of your thighs, not at the way your arms lifted over your head, making every inch of you somehow even more tempting.

Nope.

He was absolutely looking straight ahead, nowhere near you.

But as you turned away—taking slow, slightly unsteady steps—something in his chest twisted. Not the usual ache, the fuck-I’m-in-love-with-her feeling he’d been drowning in all night.

Something else. Something wrong.

He tried to shake it, tried to tell himself it was just the drinks, just his dumb possessive instincts making him hyperaware of you.

But still.

His smirk faltered slightly as he watched you make your way toward the washrooms.

It wasn’t far. Just across the lounge, past a few tables, through a hallway.

But still.

Sebastian shifted in his seat, his foot tapping idly against the floor. You’d be back in a few minutes. Everything was fine.

Except it wasn’t.

Sebastian knew it the second too much time passed.

At first, he kept himself distracted, letting Garreth and Imelda pull him into their bickering over pool shots, letting Ominis make dry, unimpressed comments about their collective lack of skill. Sebastian nursed his drink, felt the warmth of the alcohol hum through his veins, tried to tell himself you were just taking your time.

But then a song ended. And another. And you still weren’t back.

Sebastian’s fingers tapped against the rim of his glass, his brows pinching slightly.

Then he checked the time. And the wrongness that had been sitting, low and uneasy, in his chest all night curled tighter.

He straightened in his seat, setting his drink down, his entire body suddenly too alert.

It was fine. You were fine.

Maybe you’d just gotten distracted. Maybe you were reapplying your lipstick, or fixing your hair, or—

No. No, something was wrong. And suddenly, Sebastian wasn’t drunk anymore.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Just moved, ignoring the way the others glanced at him in mild confusion.

“Be right back,” he muttered, already walking away.

His heart picked up speed as he cut across the bar, past the lounge, weaving through groups of people, gaze sharp as he scanned the room.

The hallway to the washrooms was dimly lit, tucked just slightly away from the main bar, just enough that it made something uncomfortable roll through his stomach.

He stepped into the corridor, his footfalls suddenly too loud in the muffled quiet. The wrongness in his gut went from unease to something razor-sharp.

Where were you?

Sebastian glanced toward the entrance to the women’s washroom, waiting—listening—for any sign of you. Nothing.

His jaw clenched. His fingers twitched at his sides. He turned his head—

And froze.

Just past the corner of the hallway, tucked slightly out of view, a sound. A muffled whimper. Quiet. Shaky. Then a voice. Low. Murmuring. Unfamiliar.

Sebastian’s fingers curled into fists, he rounded the corner so fast he nearly slammed into the wall, and there you were.

Pressed against a door, your shoulders curled inward, hands shaking as you tried to push him away. Your dress, torn at the strap. That man—his hands on you, gripping your waist, his body too close, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured something low, coaxing, like he was trying to convince you, like you weren’t already crying.

Sebastian’s mind went blank. One second, the bastard was pressed up against you, gripping you like he had any fucking right, and the next—

Crack.

The man hit the opposite wall, hard, eyes blown wide as he let out a stunned, choked gasp, lip split and bleeding.

Sebastian was already on him.

His fist caught the bastard’s shirt, dragging him forward, shoving him so hard the walls rattled.

Sebastian was breathing too fast, seeing too much, his pulse roaring in his ears. The man let out a pained groan, hands grabbing at Sebastian’s wrist.

“Hey—”

Sebastian slammed him back again.

“You think you can touch her?” His voice was low, deadly, his face so close that the bastard flinched.

“She was asking for it,” the man spat, mouth bloody, words slurred. “Didn’t say no, just got shy—”

Sebastian snapped. His fist came down hard—one, two—again—

“How fucking dare you?”

The man gasped, wheezing, hands scrambling to stop him.

Sebastian was going to kill him. Was going to beat him into the fucking floor.

And then a hand. Light. Shaking. Fingers curling around his arm.

“Sebastian?”

Soft. Trembling.

Sebastian’s lungs seized. He turned his head, still breathing hard, still shaking. And fuck—

Tears streaked down your cheeks, your lip trembling, your eyes too wide, too stunned, too afraid.

Sebastian’s stomach dropped. His grip tightened for a breath, then, with a sharp, ragged exhale, he let go.

The man hit the floor hard, scrambling back on his hands, panting, nose crooked.

Sebastian didn’t even look at him. Because you—

You were still standing there, your hands clutching your torn dress, fingers shaking, chest rising too fast, breath uneven.

Sebastian felt sick.

And then voices. Footsteps. A sudden surge of noise as the dim corridor flooded with people.

Sebastian barely turned in time to see Ominis, Garreth, Natty, Imelda, Nerida, Poppy—the whole group—rounding the corner at full speed.

Garreth’s face twisted into something Sebastian had never seen before, his usual easy demeanor vanishing as he took one look at you, then the man on the floor, then Sebastian—still fuming, still shaking, still breathing too fast—and understood immediately.

Natty sucked in a sharp breath.

Nerida froze.

Poppy clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and horrified.

Imelda’s knuckles cracked from how hard she clenched her fists.

And Ominis—

Ominis, usually the calmest among them, took one step forward, and his voice came out cold. “What the fuck happened?”

Sebastian didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His throat was too tight. You hadn’t moved.

Then another voice, unfamiliar, but undeniably authoritative.

“Out. Now.”

Sebastian turned his head to see the bouncers push through the group.

One of them grabbed the man by the collar, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt. The bastard let out a choked noise.

“You’re done,” the bouncer growled, dragging him toward the exit. “Get the fuck out of here.”

The man spluttered, voice slurred from his split lip. “I—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Sebastian watched. Watched as the man who had his hands on you got ripped away, thrown out like trash, shoved into the night where he fucking belonged.

And yet Sebastian still wasn’t breathing right. Still wasn’t calm. Because you were still shaking, still—

“We’re leaving.”

Ominis.

His voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. Sebastian nodded automatically. They all did.

The group moved quickly, no hesitation, no time for words as they all started toward the door, the bouncers giving them a wide path through the crowd.

Sebastian barely noticed the murmured whispers around them. All he noticed was you. Still silent, still staring down, still breathing too fast.

The cold air outside hit like a shock, cutting through the drunken haze that had lingered over the night.

Sebastian barely felt it, but the moment the chill hit, you shivered violently. Ominis moved instinctively, shrugging off his jacket in one smooth motion.

“Here.” His voice was still tight, still controlled, but softer than before.

But when he stepped forward, offering it—

You flinched. Sharp. Instinctive.

And Sebastian—watching it all unfold—felt something deep inside him break.

Because it wasn’t just anyone you flinched from. It was Ominis. One of your closest friends. The gentlest, kindest, least-threatening person you knew. And if you recoiled from him—

Sebastian swallowed hard, his throat tight as the entire group went silent, the weight of it suffocating.

Ominis stilled, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around the fabric of his jacket before he pulled back, his face unreadable, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t try again. Just exhaled slowly, fingers twitching once before he let his arms drop to his sides.

Poppy, who had always been the most gentle of them, shifted half a step toward you, lips parted like she wanted to say something—but stopped herself. Because she saw it, too.

You weren’t just shaking. You were wrapped up inside yourself, arms clutched around your middle, shoulders drawn in tight, like you wanted to disappear.

Sebastian’s chest ached. He didn’t know what the fuck to do. Didn’t know how to fix this. Didn’t know how to make the world feel safe for you again.

He wanted to grab you, hold you, whisper that he would never let anyone touch you again—but he couldn’t. Because what if you flinched from him, too?

Ominis—always steady, always rational—was the first to move.

"Let's go, we need to get off the main street," he said, voice measured, composed—but there was something else beneath it. Something tightly wound.

No one argued. The group moved as one, huddled close, protective.

Imelda and Nerida flanked either side of you like an unspoken shield, while Natty and Poppy stuck close behind.

Garreth, for once, was silent, his face set in a rare, grim seriousness as he cast sharp glances at every single person still lingering outside the club, as if daring someone to look at you wrong.

And Sebastian stayed right in front of you, hands curled into fists, jaw aching from how tight he had clenched it.

Together, they moved toward the nearest side street, somewhere quieter, somewhere out of the open. Only once they were tucked into the dimly lit alleyway, far from the club and the weight of watching eyes, did Ominis finally speak again.

"Who’s flat is closest?"

"Mine," Sebastian said instantly.

That wasn't technically true.

Natty and Garreth’s place was closer—objectively the better option. If this had been any other night, any other situation, logic would have dictated the choice. But logic didn’t mean shit right now.

Not that anyone protested. Because of course it was going to be Sebastian. Of course he was the one taking you home.

Garreth let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "Right. Let’s get you a cab, then."

"Fuck that," Sebastian muttered. "I’ll Apparate."

That stopped everyone in their tracks.

Ominis immediately frowned. "Sebastian, we’re in Muggle London—"

"I don’t give a shit." His voice came out sharp, barely restrained. "I’m not making her sit in some goddamn cab, not after—" He cut himself off, exhaling hard, trying to shove down the fresh wave of anger clawing at his throat.

It was the last thing you needed right now.

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

Apparition was dangerous under the best circumstances—let alone when he was like this, let alone when you were like this. Not to mention, doing magic in a heavily populated Muggle area was risky as hell.

But fuck that. He wasn’t going to make you wait. Wasn’t going to let you sit through some excruciatingly long cab ride, squirming in silence, trapped in a moving metal box.

No. He was getting you out of here. Now.

Natty stepped forward, voice level. "Sebastian."

He clenched his jaw. "Natty, I swear to—"

"Sebastian."

She was stepping in front of you now, her dark eyes steady, sharp, cutting through the thick, suffocating tension like a blade.

Sebastian knew that look.

Natty had always been practical—calm, calculated, always thinking a step ahead. And right now, she was looking at him like she was measuring him, like she was assessing him.

"You're not going anywhere with her," she said, her voice even, "unless she wants to go with you."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. His gut reaction was to be offended. To snap that of course you wanted to go with him, because who else would it be?

But Natty’s expression didn’t change. Didn’t waver. Because this wasn’t about him. This wasn’t about what he thought, what he wanted, what he was sure of. This was about you, and whether you still felt safe with him.

Sebastian swallowed hard. The thought that you might not be wrecked him, made his stomach twist, made his ribs feel like they were caving in.

The idea that you—his everything—might not want to be anywhere near him right now. Might not trust him. Might not even be able to look at him after what had just happened. But if that was what you needed then he wouldn’t fight it. Wouldn’t blame you. Wouldn’t say a damn word.

Sebastian nodded, and Natsai turned to you slowly, her movements deliberate, careful. Her voice softened, but still held its steady, grounding weight.

"Do you want to go with him?"

A moment passed. Sebastian held his breath.

Then you nodded. It was small, barely more than a twitch of your chin, but it was everything.

Sebastian exhaled, something sharp and unbearable unwinding in his chest. He stepped forward, slowly, his movements deliberate, careful.

Held out his hand and waited.

Your fingers trembled, but you reached for him, sliding your palm into loosely into his.

"Ring us when... when you have a minute," Ominis said, his voice level, steady—but heavy. There was something unspoken in it, something Sebastian understood immediately.

Sebastian nodded once. No words. No drawn-out goodbyes. He didn’t have it in him.

Then, without another thought—he turned on the spot, pulling you with him.

The world twisted. The sharp pull of Apparition coiled around his ribs, wrenching them through the dark, until—

Home.

Sebastian’s flat was silent. Dark. The shift from the crowded club to the emptiness of his space was jarring.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was your breathing. Uneven. Shallow. Sebastian’s stomach twisted.

His hand was still wrapped around yours, and he didn’t want to let go, but after a second, he forced himself to loosen his grip. A silent offering. A choice. And after a beat, you pulled away.

Sebastian felt it like a wound. The warmth of your skin slipped from his grasp, and the absence of it left something hollow in his chest.

But he didn’t react. Didn’t move. Didn’t let it show. Because this wasn’t about him.

He unsure of what to do now, though. How to talk to you, what he was even supposed to say. He felt like he was balancing on the edge of something sharp, a thin, precarious line between giving you space and giving you what you needed—except he didn’t know what you needed.

So, he did the only thing he could think to do.

“Come on,” he murmured, voice hoarse, heavy. “Let's sit you down. Get you comfortable.”

He turned toward the living room, motioning toward the couch as he moved. “I’ll—” He cleared his throat, swallowing hard. “I’ll get you something else to wear.”

But before he could take more than two steps, you shook your head.

Sebastian hesitated. “You don’t—”

“I’ll go with you,” you murmured.

Your voice was quiet. Unsteady. But certain.

Sebastian blinked, thrown off. He didn’t understand. You had to be exhausted, had to be drained, and the couch was right there, waiting.

But you weren’t moving toward it. You were waiting for him. And something in your expression—something small, something subtle—made the words click in his mind.

You didn’t want to be alone.

He swallowed hard then nodded. "Okay, come on.”

When he turned toward his bedroom, you followed.

The door creaked as he pushed it open, stepping inside first, letting you follow at your own pace.

Sebastian’s room was… messy. Books stacked haphazardly on his nightstand, a half-open wardrobe in the corner, a few stray clothes abandoned on the chair near the window.

He ignored it all. Went straight for the dresser.

He rifled through the drawers, trying to find something soft, something comfortable. Something that wouldn’t remind you of tonight, that wouldn’t feel like a weight pressing against your skin.

A worn sweater. Sweatpants. That would work.

He turned, holding them out for you. “Here.”

You hesitated. You weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was down, locked on the clothes in his hands like you weren’t sure what to do with them.

He softened his voice. "If you want something else, just say the word.”

Then, quietly, almost too soft to hear.

“Can you... will you help me?”

Sebastian stilled. For a second, he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

Help you?

His first instinct was confusion. You’d flinched from Ominis outside. You hadn’t wanted him near you. Hadn’t wanted to be touched. After what happened, Sebastian had assumed you’d want privacy, that you wouldn’t want to be seen at all.

But then he looked at you, really looked at you, and he understood.

Maybe, right now, this wasn’t about not wanting to be touched. Maybe it was that you didn't want to touch it. Didn’t want to unfasten the dress yourself, didn’t want to peel the fabric from your skin, didn’t want to register the places it had been touched, gripped, pulled by someone who had no fucking right.

Sebastian exhaled, slow and careful, schooling his expression into something even.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Turn around for me?”

You hesitated for a moment, fingers trembling where you clutched the hem of the sweater he’d handed you. But then you did, shifting slightly, your back to him.

Sebastian took a slow step closer, hands hovering just behind your shoulders, giving you the chance to change your mind.

But you didn’t move away.

So he gently, carefully, reached for the zipper at your back.

And fuck, he’d imagined this before. Ten thousand times, maybe more. Peeling the layers off you slowly, seeing what was underneath, watching the fabric slip down the curves of your body. His hands, his, mapping the warmth of your skin as he uncovered inch after inch, drinking in the sight of you like he’d been starving for it.

But this—this wasn’t like that.

This was the first time he had ever done this, maybe the only time he ever would if he didn't get his shit together, and the circumstances were so utterly, sickeningly wrong that it made his chest feel hollow.

He wasn’t looking at you with desire. He wasn’t seeing the expanse of your skin the way he would have if things had been different.

Seeing you like this just hurt.

The fabric was still warm from your body, but that wasn’t what made his stomach twist. It was the broken strap, the torn seam, the evidence of what had happened—of what he hadn’t been able to stop sooner.

Slowly, he dragged the zipper down.

The dress loosened, slipping slightly off your shoulders, the weight of it threatening to pull away completely—and for a second, he panicked, his brain scrambling to make sure he wasn’t making this worse for you, that he wasn’t exposing more than you were comfortable with—but you stayed still.

So, with a deep breath and slow, careful movements, he tugged the dress down, guiding it past your arms, your waist, your hips. The fabric slipped easily, pooling at your feet.

His stomach twisted. Seeing it like this—abandoned, discarded—it felt like something sick and wrong. Because that dress had looked so fucking beautiful on you. Had clung to you like a dream, had made him ache. Had made him stare.

And now... now, it was nothing but a reminder of what happened.

“Step out of it, love,” he murmured, voice low and gentle despite the ache in his chest.

You obeyed, lifting one foot, then the other.

Sebastian grabbed the discarded fabric from the floor and tossed it far away—out of sight, across the room, like it didn’t deserve to be near you.

Then he picked up the sweatpants from the bed.

"Step in," he murmured.

You did. The sweater came next.

"Arms up for me."

You obeyed again, and he tugged the sweater over your head, guiding it gently over your arms, down your torso, covering you, shielding you from whatever still lingered on your skin.

The moment it was on, Sebastian exhaled deeply.

"All done."

You let out a breath. A slow, shaky thing. Then, for the first time since entering his flat, you met his gaze.

And Sebastian felt his chest cave in. Because you still looked so shaken. Still looked wrecked. But the difference was, you were here now. Fully.

"Thank you."

Your voice was small. Quiet. But present.

He swallowed hard, forcing down the unbearable ache in his chest. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Of course.”

You shifted slightly, like you wanted to say something else, but the words didn’t come. Instead, your arms wrapped around yourself, small, like you were still trying to make yourself disappear.

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to touch you. Wanted to reach out, wanted to pull you into his chest and hold you there until the shaking stopped.

But he didn’t. Not yet.

So, instead, he exhaled carefully, ran a hand through his hair, and nodded toward the doorway. “Come on,” he said, voice softer now. “Let me make you some tea.”

You blinked at him, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to you. But after a second, you nodded.

So, he turned, leading you back into the dimly lit apartment, moving toward the kitchen. And you followed. Because you still trusted him.

Sebastian pulled open the cabinet and reached for your mug—the oversized one printed with tiny blue flowers, the one you always used when you visited. It had been a birthday gift from him last year, and after unwrapping it, you’d immediately set it in his cupboard and said, This one stays here.

He set it down on the counter and filled the kettle, flipping the switch with the practiced ease of routine. Something about the motion, the normalcy of it, settled the restless tension in his chest.

His hands worked on autopilot—pulling down the tin of loose tea, measuring out just the right amount, stirring in the fixings the way you liked. Far too much sugar and milk for his taste, but he didn’t hesitate, mixing it the exact way you always did.

By the time he turned around and pressed the mug into your hands, steam curling between you, he finally caught the way your fingers trembled as you curled them around the ceramic.

And then—soft, broken, barely above a whisper—

“I’m sorry.”

Sebastian went completely still, something sharp, something furious, coiling in his chest.

“What?”

Your gaze dropped, staring into the depths of your tea. “I—I don’t know. Just for all of this. For ruining your night. For—”

“Don’t.”

He took the mug from your hands, just for a moment, long enough to force you to look at him. His brows furrowed, his mouth tight, like the words physically hurt to say aloud.

“You don’t apologize. Not for this. Not to anyone.”

You swallowed, hard, but you didn’t look away.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, voice quieter now, but no less fierce, his grip tightening briefly around the handle of your mug before handing it back. “Not one single fucking bit of it. Do you understand?”

You hesitated, like you weren’t sure you could understand. And fuck, that made something ugly rise in his throat.

Sebastian had never felt anger like this—like something helpless and raging, burning at the back of his skull, at the hollow space in his chest where you had been hurt and he hadn’t been there to stop it.

You sniffled, swiping your sleeve across your eyes, shaking your head like you were mad at yourself. “I should’ve—” Your voice was thick, strained. “I should’ve pushed him away harder. Been more assertive. Asked one of the other girls to come to the bathroom with me, or—or been more aware, or not drank so much, or—”

“Stop.”

You shook your head again, watery, miserable. “I just—”

“No.” His voice was hard, unyielding. “This wasn't your fault, there's no magic combination of things you could have done differently to make someone else not be a fucking piece of shit. It wouldn’t have mattered, because he's still a monster. And you—” His voice softened, just a fraction, his chest aching. “You did nothing wrong.”

You swallowed, throat bobbing.

“It wasn’t even that bad.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened.

You let out a wet, unsteady laugh, shaking your head. “It could’ve been worse. I just— I just froze because of Tyler.”

The second the words were out of your mouth, Sebastian saw it—the way your face froze, the way your lips parted slightly, like you hadn’t meant to say that. Like you wished you could take it back.

But it was too late.

Sebastian’s brain snapped back to a year ago.

The breakup.

How you had shown up at his door, quiet and withdrawn, a forced little smile on your lips as you told him your relationship was over. No details. No explanation. Just done.

How he had asked if you were okay, and you had nodded, too quickly, and said you didn’t want to talk about it.

And he’d let it go. Because you always told him things when you were ready. But now—now he was seeing it, the way your shoulders curled inward, the way you were smaller, like you wanted to disappear.

And something inside him snapped.

What the fuck had happened back then?

He exhaled through his nose, sharp and controlled. “Tell me,” he said, voice low, but steady.

You blinked. “What?”

“Tell me what happened. Please.”

You hesitated, curling your hands around the mug like it was the only thing keeping you tethered. “It’s not—” You swallowed, eyes darting away. “It’s not important.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Minimize it.” His voice came out rougher than he meant, but he couldn’t help it. “I need to know, love.”

At the nickname, your fingers tightened around the mug, just slightly. You opened your mouth, then closed it. Sebastian waited.

He’d wait all fucking night if he had to.

And then, finally, you exhaled a slow, shuddering breath. “It was at a party,” you murmured, not looking at him. “I—I don’t know why I froze tonight. It wasn’t even the same. Not really. I just… the moment he grabbed me, I was back there.”

Sebastian hated how softly, how passively you said it. Like it wasn’t something that had haunted you. Like it wasn’t something that still had its fucking claws in you.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t push, because you were still talking, and if you stopped, he didn’t know when you’d let yourself say these words again.

“I told him no,” you whispered. “Tyler. I told him I didn’t want to go upstairs with him, that I was tired. But he kept—” You broke off, shaking your head. “He just kept talking, kept trying to get me to change my mind. And I just—I shut down. I just let him. I didn’t fight, I didn’t—”

Sebastian couldn’t take it anymore.

“I swear to God,” he said, voice hoarse, pained, “if you say you should’ve done something differently, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

Your throat bobbed, eyes flicking up to his.

“He was supposed to stop," Sebastian insisted. "That’s it. That’s the only thing that was supposed to happen.”

You just stared at him, wide-eyed, like you weren’t sure you’d heard him right. Like no one had ever said it to you so plainly before. And then, finally, you spoke—so softly, so small.

“But I let him.”

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists. “No,” he said, voice firm, unwavering. “You didn’t.”

He exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, trying to say the right thing, because fuck, he couldn’t mess this up.

“If someone keeps pushing, keeps coaxing, keeps pulling you in when you’ve already said no—you didn’t let them. They took advantage of you.”

The words sat heavy between you, and Sebastian saw the way they hit you. Your grip on the mug went white-knuckled, a sharp inhale cutting through the air, and then you were crying.

Silent at first—just the shake of your shoulders, just the quiver in your lips. But then your breath shuddered, and your face crumpled, and the first broken sob escaped.

Sebastian stood there, feeling useless. Helpless.

Should he reach for you? Should he give you space? Did you want to be touched, or would it only make things worse? His hands hovered, twitching at his sides, unsure. And fuck, he hated it. Hated not knowing what to do, hated feeling like he was just standing here while you broke apart in front of him.

But then—

You set the mug down too quickly, tea sloshing over the rim, spilling onto the counter, and Sebastian barely had time to react before you collapsed into him.

His breath hitched, his arms automatically wrapping around you as you buried yourself against his chest, shaking, small.

And then he wasn’t thinking anymore. He just held you. Tightly. Protectively.

One arm wrapped firm around your back, the other cradling your head, fingers threading gently into your hair, like maybe if he held you close enough, it would put you back together.

Your fingers fisted into his shirt, and Sebastian closed his eyes, exhaling shakily against the crown of your head.

What the fuck do I say?

What words could he possibly put together that would make any of this better? He quickly realized there were none.

So he didn’t speak.

Didn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless reassurances, didn’t tell you to calm down, didn’t tell you it would be okay. Instead, he just held you, strong and steady, like a wall—one you could press into, lean against, fall apart against.

Your breathing was uneven, shaky against his chest. Each sharp inhale like it was trying to hold back the flood.

Sebastian pressed his cheek to your hair, gentle, careful. “I got you,” he murmured, voice raw. “I got you.”

You let out a sound, a soft, aching thing, half a sob, half relief, as the tension in your shoulders cracked, your weight fully sinking into him, like you’d been trying to hold yourself up all this time and just couldn’t anymore.

“I got you,” he whispered again, like maybe, if he said it enough times, you’d believe him.

You stood there for a long time. You didn’t pull away, and Sebastian didn't let go. He would have stood there all night if you needed him to.

The tea sat abandoned on the counter, growing cold, the soft hum of the refrigerator filling the air while the kitchen clock ticked away the minutes.

Your breathing—ragged at first, gasping, uneven— slowly, so slowly, steadied, fading into quiet sniffles. And that was when Sebastian finally moved. Carefully.

He slid one arm under your legs, the other holding you steady against him. “Up we go, love.”

You let out a soft noise of surprise as he scooped you up, pressing your face instinctively against his shoulder.

“You don’t—”

“Shush” he murmured gently, affectionately, and you didn’t fight him as he carried you across the room, lowering you onto the couch.

But the moment he tried to pull back, your fingers tightened in his shirt again.

Sebastian obeyed, sitting down and letting you tuck yourself against him, curling into his chest. His arms wound around you again, warm and solid. His hand moved instinctively to your hair, fingers slipping through the strands, slow, soothing strokes.

It had always been this easy, hadn’t it?

Sebastian wasn’t sure how long you both stayed like that. Long enough that your breathing evened out. Long enough that his own heart stopped pounding with anger and ache.

And then, after a long silence—your voice, quiet, hesitant:

“I’ve been stupid.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed. “Don’t—”

Your hand shot up, pressing lightly against his mouth, and whatever Sebastian had been about to say died instantly.

His breath caught. His lips parted slightly against your palm, startled, thrown completely off balance. But it wasn’t the touch that had him frozen.

It was your eyes.

Raw. Red-rimmed from crying, but so fucking clear. Like you had figured something out—like whatever had been sitting between you for so long, uncertain and unspoken, was now suddenly blindingly obvious.

“...You know I love you, don't you?”

Sebastian froze.

He did know. At least, sort of.

He’d always known you loved him as your best friend, as your constant, as the one person you always turned to. He had felt it in the way you sought him out first in a crowded room, in the way you always made one too many cups of tea just in case he wanted one. He had seen it in the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, in the way your hand lingered when you touched him.

But he didn't know if you loved him as more.

Of course, he'd imagined your confession the late hours of the night, when exhaustion blurred the edges of his thoughts. In the quiet spaces between glances, in the way his chest always felt too full when you laughed. In the way he always waited for you to arrive at his door.

But he always imagined hearing those words for the first time in a moment of joy, in the golden hush of a summer afternoon, in the warmth of a stolen moment where nothing hurt, nothing felt too heavy.

His throat bobbed. “You—are you saying—”

But the words felt too big, too heavy.

You huffed a laugh, sniffling softly as a stray tear rolled down your cheek. “I was so stupid. Maybe if I had just told you how I felt, if I had just—”

Sebastian cupped your cheek before you could finish your sentence, his palm warm and steady against your tear-streaked skin.

His mind was racing, his chest too full, his breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something so fierce, so all-consuming, so fucking relieved that it almost hurt.

Because you meant it. You loved him. Not just as his best friend. Not just as his constant. But as something more.

He searched your face, memorizing everything—the way your lashes were still damp, the way your lips parted slightly, the way your breath trembled under his touch.

And fuck, he didn’t know what to say.

He hadn’t been ready for you this moment to happen like this. Not when your voice was still raw from crying. Not when your hands still shook in your lap. Not when he had spent the last hour trying to piece you back together after something that should have never happened. Not when you deserved so much better than this moment.

He couldn't stop his mind from imagining what this would have been like if things had been different.

If tonight had just been another night.

If you had just come over, curled up with him like you always did, nudged your socked feet against his under a blanket, laughed at something stupid on TV. If he had turned to you and just fucking said it, just let it be easy.

But it wasn’t easy.

And yet, his the words left his mouth in a breath, like they had been waiting there, like they had been sitting at the back of his throat for years, clawing at his ribs, aching to be spoken. Because they had.

"Fuck, I love you too."

And the second they were out—

Relief.

Like something had cracked open inside him, something tight and suffocating finally letting go, leaving his chest too light and too full all at once. Because it was the truest thing he had ever said.

But right behind that relief came the guilt, because he should have said it sooner.

He should have said it a thousand times before now—should have said it when you were laughing, when you were happy, when you were light and warm and untouched by pain.

He should have said it last week, when you had fallen asleep on his couch, curled up with his sweater wrapped around you, mumbling something incoherent before sighing in contentment.

He should have said it months ago, when you had grabbed his hand without thinking at the crowded market, weaving through people like you had never once considered not holding onto him.

He should have said it years ago, when you kicked his ass in that very first duel.

Sebastian huffed a humorless laugh, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. "God, I wish I’d just told you sooner. Over a bowl of popcorn, some dumb movie playing in the background.” The corners of his mouth twitched, a rueful little smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I imagined it a thousand times—telling you. Watching your eyes light up, seeing you smile like you do when you think I’m being stupid.”

Your lips quivered, the hint of a smile breaking through the tears.

“I wish it had been easy," he said. "Because you deserve easy. You deserve soft and gentle and everything good.”

You leaned into his touch, your hands reaching up to cover his. Your eyes searched his—gentle, knowing, certain.

“Easy’s never really been on brand for us, has it?”

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard for half a second. And then a breathless, broken sound left him, something between a scoff and a laugh, something small and raw and achingly fond.

Because you were right.

Since the very beginning, since the moment you had first collided into his life, it had never been simple. Never straightforward. There had always been something else—a complication, an obstacle, an unsaid feeling caught between glances and lingering touches that neither of you were ever brave enough to name.

You sniffled, wiping at your face with the sleeve of his sweater—the one you were drowning in, and fuck, you were so beautiful even now, despite the weight of the night still lingering in your shoulders.

“Do I wish none of this had happened?” Your voice was quiet, raw. “Of course I do. But fuck, Sebastian, you were there. You're always there." You gave a watery laugh, the smallest, softest thing. "When I'm at my best, when I'm at my worst. It's always been you. And I—"

You exhaled shakily, voice thick with too much. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there tonight,” your voice dropped to a whisper, eyes locked onto his. “There's no one else I would have gone to. No one else I would have let see me like this. No one else I trust the way I trust you.”

Sebastian’s throat felt tight, his breath coming uneven, chest aching under the weight of realization.

This wasn’t just about tonight. Or last night. Or last week.

It was about every night. Every stolen glance, every quiet moment, every time you had reached for him first. It was in the way you always found him before anyone else, in the way you always chose him, in the way you always trusted him—with the good, with the bad, with everything.

When things went well, when they didn’t, when you needed comfort, when you needed a co-conspirator, when you needed someone to just be there—it had always been him.

It settled into him all at once—the weight of years pressing against his ribs, filling every empty space inside him that had ever questioned what he meant to you.

Because it had always been this. Not a revelation. Not a shift. Not something new.

It had simply always been.

And you must have seen something in his face—the way he looked at you like he wanted to fall apart, because you gave him a small, wobbly smile, something barely there, something hopeful, something real.

“Say something, Sallow," you teased.

Sebastian let out a breathless, unsteady laugh, shaking his head. His eyes burned, his own tears threatening to fall. He let his hands move—one tangling in the fabric at your chest, the other sliding to the nape of your neck.

He leaned in, slow, deliberate, like he was giving you the chance to pull away, like he was making absolutely sure—but your hands curled into his shirt, pulling him in the rest of the way, and then—

Then you kissed him.

It was soft. Hesitant. Testing. Like neither of you could quite believe this was finally happening.

But then Sebastian felt you melt into him, felt the warmth of you, the way your grip on him tightened, the way your lips parted—

And suddenly, it wasn’t hesitant at all.

A soft sound rumbled in Sebastian's throat, something relieved, something grateful, something aching with all the things he had never let himself say, and he kissed you like his life depended on it, because maybe it did. Like he had been waiting for this for years, because he had. Like you were the only fucking thing in the world that mattered, because you were.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, foreheads pressed together, hearts pounding in sync.

Sebastian huffed a soft laugh, his lips brushing yours. "…'bout time, huh?"

You let out a wobbly, teary laugh, nuzzling closer. "About time."

And Sebastian held you—tightly, unshakably, like letting go wasn’t even a possibility, like something fundamental in him wouldn’t allow it.

Because maybe this wasn’t how he had ever imagined this moment. Maybe it wasn’t wrapped in golden light, in laughter, in the warmth of an easy, stolen moment where everything was simple and good.

Maybe he hadn’t gotten to plan for it, hadn’t had the chance to say it first, hadn’t gotten to look at you when you were smiling, when you were happy, and tell you what had been the truth for so damn long.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to be saying I love you in the aftermath of something that had hurt you.

But this was still you. And this was still him. And that was all that mattered.

Because love wasn’t just about the easy moments. It wasn’t just about the days when the sun was shining, when your laughter came freely, when things felt light.

Love was this too—love was holding on, love was being there, love was standing in the wreckage of something awful and saying I’ve got you. I’m here. And I’m not leaving.

Sebastian pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, his grip tight, his fingers curled against the fabric of his own sweater on your frame, holding you close, keeping you safe.

And he knew, with every piece of himself, that he wasn’t letting go.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

[turtledork02]

oh ... the angst of ratchet ... horrific (beautiful)

i really love learning about your au! it's really good! and your art style is so yummyy!! like fresh crepes

will your au be told through art and story? or just art? or just story?

and what does team prime do on a daily basis? like looking at energon mines and sniping any decepticons that get too close, i understand that, but anything other than that?

oh! and are there going to be any different kind of bots beside autobots and decepticons? any predacons or insecticons?

also, thank you for all the art with some of the asks! i think it's so cool when creators make art for asks, even tho they don't have to. it's super sweet. you're a pretty rad guy!

I unfortunately have a habit of torturing my favorite characters lol-

Also thank you for the compliment on my art!! Have a Miko sketch!! *kiss kiss platonically*

I plan on telling the AU through both art and story!! Although I probably will not write the start of canon plot until I get all the character sheets out, just so that I have time to flesh out the characters and ideas more fully.

As for what Team Prime does on a daily basis! Before they met the humans, they were pretty bored actually lol. They took a lot of time to learn earth culture since they had little else to do. Ratchet and First Aid learned human medicine, and are very skilled at it now! Bumblebee learned about street racing and does that for fun. Sometimes he brings Arcee and/or Wheeljack! Optimus and the others know about it but let him do it so he can have some fun. Wheeljack makes new bombs, inventions, and such on when he’s bored and not working on his studies. Arcee has a training room with holograms that she uses a LOT. She punches things a lot. Optimus does a lot of reading. Like a lot. He has read so much earth literature now and he loves it. His favorites are Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and several of Stephen King’s works.

By the time Jack, Miko, and Sari join the Autobots, the plot starts picking up speed. From there they will be interacting with Decepticons a lot more and trying to protect earth.

And yes, Insecticons and other Cybertronian species will exist! I’m still figuring out who and where. Predacons will probably remain a memory from the past. They are not really that relative to my AU plot, as much as I love predacons. As for Dinobots, though.👀

Thank you so much for all the asks!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying these!! They have been giving me a lot of motivation to draw, which helps me flesh out my characters more! I really appreciate everyone taking interest.

[bluiela]

Proof that the last part of BC shows romantic foreshadowing and not luring LS:

What is luring?

what do Lightsinger do canonically?

"Cassian went on as she scanned the bog, “There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost. Only when you’re in their arms will you see their true faces, and they aren’t fair at all. The horror of it is the last thing you see before they drown you in the bog. But they kill for sport, not food.”

Takeaway: They lure and kill fae for sport by appearing as friendly faces.

Also, Important point to note:

Luring does not include making feel emotions.

If someone is eliciting any sort of emotion out of another person, then it is emotional manipulation (obviously referring to the ones that are not consented or forceful) and not luring. (kind of self-explanatory but this fandom or a certain side has shown again and again how basic things need to be spelled out)

Lightsingers canonically cannot make people feel calm or settled or happy. They can only persuade people to come to them by ALTERING THEMSELVES as friendly faces. They DO NOT alter others behavior or anything to lure.

So, Gwyn making feel Azriel:

"Clotho's pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her.

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty."

IS NOT LURING. Gwyn wasn't even present there so how was she manipulating centuries old spymaster and shadowsingers emotions?

And there is no consistency to what emotions Nesta and Az feel (two most used examples to show she "lures" people)

Nesta only wanted to spend time with her and appreciate her friend. Nesta who hasn't had a friend in YEARS makes her first friend and then her doing the above-mentioned things is obvious. And is consistent with the story and narrative of Nesta making her first friend in years.

Azriel doesn't feel the same emotions. He doesn't want to crow about her or actively seek her now. Rather his emotions seem like how much he appreciates her and admires her. How she surprised him, calms and settles him. How his shadows love her. How she makes him feel actual emotional feelings, how he buries her deep in his heart where she glows quietly. How she makes his chest spark (something which other mates feel commonly)

It is written as foreshadowing for a future romance after a previous romance has ended.

All this? isn't rocket science. It is right in front of us spelled out. This? is obvious. People who aren't heavily biased from book 2 clearly saw it for what it is. And what the next book will prove. That gwynriel is endgame.

[mizzyislost]

Your art is STUNNING!!!! genuinely some of these made my jaw drop like :OOOO they're so good!!!

wauigh thank you so so much!!!!! hold on. we have. like an image for this.

me for real right now thank you again!!!!!!!!

[runawaycatwalker]

Part 31. Perfect Dichotomy (Midnight Rendezvous, Part A)

< First | < Previous | Next >

Description below the cut

Chat Noir attempts to sit on the rolling chair by Marinette’s computer, but Ladybug pulls his tail and points at the chaise lounge instead.

Ladybug: Over here.  We can sit on the chaise lounge together.

Chat Noir: Oh?  You want me to be closer?

Chat exaggeratedly sprawls out onto Ladybug’s lap, arching his back and flinging his arms above his head.  Ladybug looks down at him with a teasing grin.

Chat Noir: How about this close?

Ladybug: A cat lying on my lap, huh?  That sounds...

Ladybug scratches the top of Chat’s head as he grins with deep pleasure.

Ladybug: Purr-fect.

Chat turns over and hugs Ladybug’s shin while she gives Chat more head scritches and rubs his back.

Ladybug: So… wanna tell me what's got you so spooked about Mayura?

Chat Noir: She and Catwalker… talked.  About me.  She mentioned some things that not many people would know.

Flashback to “Glaciator”: Marinette and Chat Noir rest on the railing of the balcony and look at each other as the moon shines over the city.

Ladybug (voiceover): But Marinette knows?  I suppose you have visited her a fair bit.  It's not all that surprising that you've shared some personal things with her...

Chat looks up at Ladybug and holds his finger and thumb an inch apart.

Chat Noir: It’s a bit more complicated than that.  Though I suppose I am missing some key details...

Ladybug puts her fist on her chin in contemplation (Her other hand continues giving Chat scritches).

Ladybug: So Catwalker’s been hiding things from you too...?

Chat Noir: More like Mayura was being extra cryptic—or lying.  All I really know for sure is that she’s looking for me.

Ladybug: I still don't understand why she cares so much...

Chat holds his hands out in a self-satisfied ‘Oh well!’ gesture.  (Ladybug stops giving him scritches).

Chat Noir: I like getting on villains' nerves, what can I say? I'll just have to keep frustrating her in our little game of 'Cat and Mouse'.

Ladybug pulls out the pillow from under her leg and ‘bonks’ Chat Noir on the head with it as he tries to placate her with a large grin.

Ladybug: Why do you make it sound like you’ve been doing something really stupid?

Chat Noir: Just because my methods are ridiculous, it doesn’t mean they don’t work!

Ladybug: That is not reassuring.

Chat leans against the chaise lounge next to Ladybug, hands clasped.

Chat Noir: Don’t worry, LB.  I’ve got it handled. I think the bigger problem is what prompted you to bring me here.  Wanna tell me what's wrong?

Chat kneels a leg next to Ladybug and places one hand on her arm and the other on her back.

Ladybug: I'm not sure how to explain...

Chat Noir: Start anywhere.  I think I can keep up.

Ladybug closes her eyes and holds her head in her hands with an expression of longing.

Ladybug: It's... Catwalker.  He's too perfect.

Chat Noir: ...You lost me.

A series of flashbacks with events shown pretty much as they occurred:

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Catwalker peeks around the corner at Kuro Neko, while Ladybug leans forward, catching her breath.

Ladybug (voiceover): He notices things that I'm too blind to see.

Catwalker (flashback): If that was Chat Noir, don't you think he'd talk to you?

Flashback to Part 6: View of Catwalker and Ladybug from below as they travel across the sky.

Catwalker (flashback): I can’t rule that out, but… my gut says that’s not it.

Ladybug (voiceover): His instincts about akumas are much better than mine.

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Ladybug looks at Catwalker as they kneel on a rooftop.

Ladybug (voiceover): It's like he already knows the answer I need.

Catwalker (flashback): Cats sometimes eat grass, it helps them spit out their hairballs.

Flashback to Part 8: A close-up of Ladybug looking right next to a close-up of Catwalker looking left.

Catwalker (flashback): You still have a multitude of people who can help you.

Ladybug (voiceover): And he's just nudging me to think of it myself.

Flashback to Part 18: Ladybug, still falling, throws her yo-yo through one of the holes in the lower conical barrier.  In the cone above, Catwalker places his hand against its barrier.  Both barriers begin to disintegrate.

Ladybug (voiceover): He always finds the right moment to use his powers.

Catwalker (flashback): Cataclysm!

Flashback to Part 26: Ladybug uses her yo-yo to flee as Oni-Chan lunges towards her.  But behind Oni-Chan, Catwalker has backflipped into the room behind her, his finger touching the amok with his Cataclysm.

Ladybug (voiceover): But I just ruin the opportunities he gives me because I never expect him to live up to you.

Flashback to Part 15: Ladybug turns back to looking down at the city below.  Catwalker holds up a hand to offer a friendly suggestion.

Catwalker (flashback): If you’d like to talk about anything, I’d be happy to stay and listen.

Ladybug (voiceover): And even when I can't do anything, he still acts so unbelievably kind...

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Catwalker, illuminated by the moon, reaches his hand before him for Ladybug to hold.

Ladybug (voiceover): He's just so... perfect.

Catwalker (flashback): Now I want to take care of you.

Ladybug (voiceover): But then I learned the truth:

Another series of flashbacks, with events depicted slightly off from what actually happened and Catwalker showing more malice.

Flashback to Part 12: Catwalker almost pointedly looks towards Carapace, who looks away guiltily.

Ladybug (voiceover): He lies and bends the truth with ease.

Catwalker (flashback): We only assume Adrien wants to be found.

Flashback to Part 17: Catwalker looks down towards Ladybug, the hand in front of him leaning on one of the barriers between them.

Catwalker (flashback): If he was dead, no one would know.

Ladybug (voiceover): And his lies lead to people suffering.

Flashback to Part 19: Catwalker steps forward, his hands palm upward in front of him, trying to explain himself.

Ladybug (voiceover): He'll use his heroic duty as an excuse to hold back.

Catwalker (flashback): I can't be as lax as Chat Noir was.

Flashback to Part 14: Catwalker grabs the end of Rena’s flute and pulls up the phone screen. Embedded flashback bubble from Part 20: Alya looks away and rubs the back of her neck.

Alya (flashback): He stole my phone number from my flute.

Ladybug (voiceover): But he crosses boundaries he shouldn't with no excuse.

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Catwalker pauses as he leaves Ladybug to finish everything on her own.

Ladybug (voiceover): He pretends to do what I want.

Catwalker (flashback): I won't make another move.

Flashback to Part 28: Astrowalker, wrapped tightly in yo-yo string (even his wings have been folded in on themselves and bound), hangs upside-down as Cosmobug points angrily at his face.

Catwalker (flashback): I followed you in case I needed to stay in your way.

Ladybug (voiceover): But he goes rogue once I'm not watching.

Flashback to Part 8: Catwalker lays on his side next to Emilie, reaching away from her.  Embedded flashback bubble from Part 20: Marinette clenches her fists in front of her, looking haunted.

Ladybug (voiceover): I can only guess at what other awful things he's hidden beneath my nose.

Marinette (flashback): What if he used his powers on his mom?

Flashback to Part 4: Catwalker grins at Ladybug with perfect posture, his hands on his lap.

Ladybug (voiceover): His perfection is an illusion.

Catwalker (flashback): I considered what I needed in order to be your 'ideal' partner.

Ladybug (voiceover): And I don't know what prices were paid to uphold his illusion.

Flashbacks end. Chat Noir kneels next to Ladybug on the chaise lounge as they embrace.

Chat Noir: I'm sorry, m'Lady. It's unfair that you've had to go through all of this.  If Catwalker is so wrong... would it be better if I was your Chat Noir again?

Ladybug: I wish I could let you. But I can't let Mayura target you.  Even if you were careful, she'd probably go after your loved ones in retaliation.  I won't let that happen.

Chat Noir: Alright.  Then what's the best way for me to support you?

Ladybug: Tell me how to fix everything?  *sob* I'm sorry, I don't think there's anything you can do.

Chat Noir: You're underestimating me.  And I think that you're underestimating him.  You're right that he's not perfect.  But I do think he's trying to be good.

Ladybug: I wish I had your ability to believe in people.  But Catwalker is too good of a liar.  I can't really know if he cares about anyone.  But I have to keep him as my partner.  I just have no idea how.

Chat Noir stands and rubs his chin in thought as Ladybug looks on.

Chat Noir: What if... What if I showed you the truth about Catwalker?

Ladybug: The... 'truth'?  You don't mean his identity, do you?

Chat Noir: No, of course not.  But this could fundamentally change how you see him—you wouldn't even need his name to trust him again.

Chat smiles down and touches his chest with both hands.

Ladybug: I can't see how that's remotely possible.

Chat Noir: You trust me even though you don't know who I am, don’t you?

Ladybug: Because I know you.

Chat Noir: Because you got to know me.  And if you knew the truth, you could know him too.

Chat scratches his head sheepishly and holds up a finger.  Ladybug turns away with hands raised, exasperated.

Chat Noir: There's just one itty-bitty catch.

Ladybug: Of course there's a catch...

Chat looks away, rubbing his arm.

Chat Noir: If I share this with you...?  My identity would make it dangerously easy to figure out who he is.  And a part of me was kinda hoping that I could show you who I am tonight.

Ladybug’s eyes widen in astonishment.

Ladybug: You wanted to share identities?

Chat Noir: Just mine.  I know his identity, so I shouldn't risk learning yours too anytime soon.

Chat leans down to touch Ladybug’s shoulder and holds up his fist encouragingly.

Chat Noir: But if you want to be absolutely certain of Catwalker's loyalties?  To understand the person who is hiding behind the mask?  I'd need to keep my identity from you a little while longer.

Chat Noir raises both hands to offer two options.  Above his right hand is the image of Catwalker.  Above his left is the image of Adrien Agreste.

Chat Noir: But it’s your choice, Ladybug: Learn the underlying truth about your new partner?  Or learn the civilian identity of your old partner?

Below is the same image as above, only without text:

[amanitacurses]

Names

1 2 3

[windsson]

He doesn’t appreciate what Bruno saying that does to him. It shouldn’t! They aren’t even like that- Bruno was talking about touching his face, idiot. What made it more frustrating is Makani has no idea if blushing is visible on him; he knew from people saying it that blushing made you pink, but not only did he have no clue what pink even looked like any more, but he had no idea if blushing made him pink.

He knew he had to be blushing though, he could feel it in his face, remnants of a lightning bolt that went straight from his head down to his toes in an instant. He just prays it dissipates quickly- he was being weird, and he didn’t even mean to do that, anyway. He didn’t want his new friend getting the wrong idea- he was the only friend he had, after all, if he lost Bruno he’d be…alone again.

To try to brush it off, Makani laughs down at the ground, shrugging a shoulder.

“Well, you really can’t get as much information from doing that as you’d think- I mean, I have no idea what I look like, and I can touch my own face whenever I want. But yeah, actually, maybe just for a second, it couldn’t hurt.” He’s trying to play it off casually. Just two bros touching faces alone together, nothing weird about this.

He continues to talk through it as well as another way of making it feel less awkward, or at least that’s how it starts, but Makani’s sincerity don’t let him feel awkward for too long. He did genuinely want to do this, the last time he had was…gosh, maybe 13 years old? He didn’t get to connect with people like this. Makani was always distant from people, in his own world, the only touch he ever received usually being harsh grabs on the wrist from his father (the ring of bruises on his right arm being proof enough of that.) Makani wanted connection, he wanted physical contact, he wanted any kind of belonging that didn’t make him feel utterly left out. He had been in too many rooms crowded with people and felt utterly alone.

“I really am happy, by the way- I’m sorry if you were nervous to do all this,” he says, very tenderly and apprehensively putting his hands on the sides of Bruno’s face to start.

“I know this won’t happen in a day, but man, this is the first time in my life I haven’t been scared for the future. I know what’s coming and it’s- woah, you need to shave, dude,” he stops and laughs.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding! I wish I could grow facial hair- it never comes in right so I just gave up.” Bruno’s cheeks are more sallow than Makani envisioned- he was entirely smaller to hold than he imagined. His nose felt similar to his own, which Makani thought meant Bruno must have a big nose- his father had told Makani he had a big nose, anyway. He wouldn’t say anything since it sounded like a bad thing, not that it ever mattered to himself.

The yammering to break the tension, if there was any, gets slower and more sparse the longer he goes, concentrating harder and getting a little lost in the sensation, and trying to fit together a mental image of his friend. He stops completely, however, when the back of his hand brushes against Bruno’s hair.

“I’m sure we’ve got a lot to uh, to…talk about, though- with this. I don’t know what your…your family will say, this is weird news to get, and I- woah!…Gosh, your hair is soft! How do you DO this?” He excitedly gets two gentle handfuls of each, his excited-rambling voice coming back for just a second before he realizes how odd he’s being.

Makani let’s go and puts his hands in his lap, clearing his throat and smiling politely.

“I’m sorry- I just said a second and I uh…thank you, in any case-but no, um,” he tucks his hair behind one of his ear, definitely not as soft, continuing,

“This is…wild. I-I mean how is this even going to happen? D-Does anyone even want me here? Where would I be, how does…” he laughs a little, incredulously, “This is so incredible but I don’t know how I’m supposed to be feeling right now. Wh-What do we do now?”

“Dude. That was the greatest thing I’ve ever got to be a part of.”

In comparison to his nervous friend’s upright posture, Makani was catching his breath leaning back onto his elbows, and by the state of his hair, he had been through a tornado. It was wrapped around his face like a fishnet, Makani needing a moment to get some strands out of his mouth.

“I get to stay…I get to- Bruno, are you even hearing yourself? I get to stay!” He crawls over to where Bruno had shuffled off to, intending to reach out to (happily) shake some sense into Bruno, but his thoughts get interrupted when his hand collides with something.

“No matter what, this is good news, I just wish I knew h- ah- oh, what’s this…thing?”

He runs his hands over the glass, feeling the etches on its surface and tracing vague shapes with his fingertips.

“Where did you get this…metal? No, wait…” he taps his knuckle against it, “Glass. It’s like…an upside-down house, and an upside-down pers- wait!”

He grabs the glass plate off of Bruno’s lap and flips it right-side-up for himself, putting it down on his own lap and tracing his fingers as if he were reading in Braille.

“You said it was me, in front of your house, walking down a…yeah! Okay! This is the road, yeah? So this little thing in the middle is me!”

He was so small in the frame, his fingers couldn’t make out a ton of detail in the face, but Makani still eagerly swiped over the picture to try to intuit any kind of information about the drawing.

“Wow, my hair feels long. Do I just keep growing it out?” He laughs a little, chin still raised in concentration to try to turn the abstract feelings in his fingers into something more tangible.

“I know like, vaguely what I look like? The last time I saw myself I was 8 years old, so I’m always guessing- it’s not as important to me as it used to be, but I do still wonder, sometimes,” he chuckles. He does allow himself a few seconds to trace the mysterious hand, fading into a blob of just smooth, unmarked glass. Of course he was curious about that, and he’d ask questions and wonder in due time, but his excitement over this revelation meant the little questions could wait.

I get to stay. I’m safe.

He was going to sorry about the details later; including that it was kind of weird to learn he was about to start living with these people he’s known for a month, whose hand was he holding and why (and trying not to be disappointed with the reality that someone was probably guiding him somewhere, Occam meet razor,) no, right now he was going to allow himself to just be happy and excited for a moment.

He didn’t understand why Bruno was so nervous before, this couldn’t have gone any better.

“I know you probably have some important stuff to tell me about this, but give me just a second to do something stupid before any bad news,” he says with a smile, trying to subtly get across to Bruno that he wasn’t mad, he liked the fortune, no one was in trouble. “Do you wanna hear something stupid about me? Then it’s serious time, I promise.”

Makani puts his fingertips back on the rendering of his face, no way of really being certain if Bruno’s magic-fortune-telling-glass-wind-sand-thingy had actually rendered him accurately. He snickers down by his chest, clearly embarrassed about whatever he was going to say, but wanting to tell nonetheless.

“What I’ve been doing with this thing, trying to like, feel what I look like, I definitely did this to your door before you answered it,” he laughs at himself, “I didn’t know it was carved! And when I realized it was you, I was trying to gather all the I formation I could in…5 seconds. I was just trying to figure out what you looked like…from a door, so probably not super close, yeah?”

[lemongogo]

is this the part where i say i like jaymel . bc i do

[javierduffy]

DO IT. WRITE THE JOHN X KIERAN FIC AND I WILL READ IT TRUST

ALSO HAPPY NEW YEAR

happy new year to you as well :] !!! i hope it’s filled with fun and love and light !!!!!!!

WAUGH THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT 💔💔 now idk about a full fic but uuhhmmm i can offer you some silly doodles ? hopefully i’ll have the energy to draw/write them for real soon 😭

and of course the 3rd boyfriend