#let's hope this hyperfixation stays long enough for me to get an idea about this stuff

[we-are-ashes]

still struggling to understand some finer details: the mechanics of how viktor found jayce in the past and future and in that form? what does mel mean when she says she sees the black rose's face? what does the canon existence of multiple universes existing in tandem mean for lore? also how does the 'anomaly' transport you to a universe where it doesn't exist? jinx... it's just a whole lot of "what's up with that" for act 3

[grandlinedreams]

Your blog is the highlight of my day, I'm really impressed <3

Could you maybe write something more about what happened after that oneshot where the reader wants to stay up with law but falls asleep while doing it and then law laying in bed with them?

I love the slow burn that is happening there

Aah, thank-you!! I do my best and I'm just glad my hyperfixation has an audience that enjoys it ehe 💖 but absolutely!! I hope that this is to your liking!! I also couldn't help myself w adding the 'it's rotten work' 'not to me. Not if it's you'

[In reference to this]

[Heads up!: mutual pining, some angst, hurt/comfort]

There are three reasons you know that you're not in your own bed when you wake up. One, you're warmer than you ever are, blanket usually kicked off of you in some way or another. The second that there are no sounds of the bunkhouse ㅡ no soft snores or sleepy murmurs, the creak of someone moving in their sleep. And the third?

That Law is asleep right next to you.

It takes a minute to register, your cheeks warming. You'd fallen asleep despite trying your best not to, you know that much ㅡ and that for whatever reason, Law had seen fit to simply let you sleep in his bed.

It's inappropriate, you know. A severe breach of what should be between captain and crewmate ㅡ but staring at him, all you can think of is what could be.

You let yourself admire him for a little longer before you turn your attention to getting up, knowing that your other crewmates will be moving around soon and the last thing you need is them assuming things if you wait too long to come out of Law's room.

You're not sure how you manage to get free without disturbing Law but you do, glancing towards the mugs you'd brought in with you and move to collect them.

"Thanks for the tea last night." Law's voice makes you jolt, barely avoiding dropping one of the mugs as you turn to find him sitting up and watching you.

"Oh," you say, "right, no problem." Curse your wretched heart for doing gymnastics at how cute he is, hair sleep-mussed and expression drowsy. It sharpens, however, as his gaze flicks over you and then to the door.

"About this," he begins, "we won't be making a habit of this. It's for the best if this never happens again."

Your heart sinks. You know that it's for the best, that the idea of entertaining anything but is only going to hurt ㅡ and hurt it does, twisting a proverbial knife into your chest.

There's the rising want to cry, one that you shove down as deep as you can, shoving down your feelings.

"Yes," you say, now heading for the door with the tray and things in hand. "You're absolutely right. It's for the best."

ㅡ

You take to avoiding him. You make it an art ㅡ not so much so as to make it obvious that it's him that you're avoiding in particular, but enough to make it plausible as to why you're never around him.

And it's driving Law crazy. The Polar Tang is only so big, there are only so many places you can duck into before he notices, so many people you can so conveniently manage to be deep in conversation with when he passes, indifferent to his presence ㅡ but you still manage it.

It's frustrating, too. He knows that he hurt you with what he said, a proverbial slap to the face of your kindness, your efforts to put him at ease. He also isn't dumb, he's noticed your lingering looks, the previous excuses to be around him.

Were he someone else, he'd let you know that he reciprocates your feelings. Even as he is, he knows he does ㅡ but he can't act on it. He won't drag you down with him when it all inevitably blows up in his face, won't force you to suffer the same fate as him. You deserve more, and you deserve better.

But your behavior still hurts. The things that you do are made the clearer in the absence them, and he misses them. He misses you.

There's only so much that Law can take of this new routine that you've slipped into ㅡ which is why he comes up with a plan.

ㅡ

Avoiding Law is getting exhausting. Quite literally, as you've gotten into the routine of waiting until almost everyone has retired for the night, him included. It's childish yes, but you're determined to do it until your feelings for him ebb enough that you can go back to the way you were ㅡ as unlikely as that is.

Stifling a yawn, you trudge towards the bunkhouse, intent on getting as good of sleep as you can, only to have a hand curl around your upper arm and yank you away before you can react. You're dragged into a different room and when the door shuts, you wheel on your pseudo-kidnapper.

"What is your problem?"

Unbothered by your tone, Law simply stares at you, expression unreadable. "I need to talk to you."

You frown. "So talk to me like a normal person, not kidnap me."

"I didn't kidnap you," Law counters, "and it's hard to talk to someone when they're avoiding you."

You want to lie and say that you haven't been, but the look Law gives you makes you quiet before you realizes where you are.

His room. Again.

"Look. I realize that how I said things the other day wasn't the best way to put it." Law rubs his neck, trying to find the best way to articulate his words.

Figuring that it'll be easier to sever whatever you have with him all together now rather than continue to suffer, you look up and speak with a steadiness that surprises you. "I love you."

Law's eyes snap to yours, elation and dread clashing. "You can't." Before you can protest, he continues. "Not only am I your captain, but we're pirates. We don't have time for things like this, and I don't have time to entertain how you think you feelㅡ"

"How I think I feel?" Your tone is calm. "Last time I checked, I'm the one who should know best how I feel, Law." He opens his mouth, and you hold a hand up to silence him. "I'm not going to deign the rest of that with a response, because we both know that's bullshit." You pause. "Well, besides the part about you being my captain. You are, and I love you. I'm not expecting you to love me back."

A muscle in his jaw jumps. "You shouldn't."

"I know."

He steps towards you, reaching to tug you to him. "That's dangerous."

You press into him. "I know that too. We're pirates, remember? Danger is our middle name."

His arms wind around you, hand cradling the back of your head. "It's rotten work," he whispers, thinking of Corazon and his parents, his sister. "Loving me."

"Not to me," comes your response, muffled into his chest, the steady thump that your own echoes. You pretend not to notice that it's beating as hard as yours is. "Not if it's you."

Law feels something in him crack, splintering into glittering spiderweb fissures. "You're staying here tonight," he says, feels the shudder of your laughter against him.

"Is that an order, captain?"

"Yes."

ㅡ

Blankets over you both, Law still allows himself to reach for you, let your legs tangle with his, lose the dark tattoos of his knuckles in your hair. "Say it again."

You don't need to ask what he means, kissing the front of his shoulder. "I love you."

His lips brush the top of your head. "Again."

"I love you."

He kisses your forehead. "Again."

"I love you."

By the time Law kisses you properly, he thinks you'll get tired of saying it, because he can't say it back. Not yet. But the way you kiss him back says that you do, and that you don't mind.

You're patient, and you can wait.

[stay-mon-army]

Anything For You, Darling

Word Count: 3,410 words

Warnings: depression, anxiety

Pairing: OPLA!Sanji x reader

Note: This is completely self-indulgent but I hope that other people will enjoy this like I enjoyed making it. Also, I am OBSESSED with OPLA so please please interact, give me ideas/requests, suggest me fics, anything. I've found a new hyperfixation with this (specifically Sanji and Zoro) so this might be something I write a lot rn!

Living life on the Going Merry was a content existence to say the least. You didn’t often have to worry about being bored; something was always happening to keep you entertained. You rarely had to worry about food; Sanji was never far away with a new dish he wanted someone to try (you just had to get there before Luffy). You didn’t have to worry about if you were even going in the right direction; somehow Nami knew exactly where to go based on those very confusing scraps of paper she calls maps.

Life was arguably great. You couldn’t ask for more. But no matter how good life was, how many times your stomach hurt from laughing along with the crew, how many times you smiled at the happy family you had collected for yourself, something always felt a little off. You weren’t unhappy, you just felt… disquieted in your bones? Sometimes you felt as pessimistic as Usopp when you thought about your feelings. You couldn’t ever just feel good without something in your brain interrupting and whispering sad thoughts into your mind.

That’s why you liked spending so much time with Sanji – he doesn’t let you stay in your mind for very long. He isn’t quite as chatty as Luffy, who never seems to stop talking if someone is within earshot, but he keeps a good conversation and you can’t lie, the compliments and the food are pretty hard to beat.

You often spent your free hours curled up on a bar stool in the kitchen, watching Sanji chop up vegetables and prepare whatever the next meal is while you talk about everything and nothing at the same time. Even when the conversation lulls and you settle into silence with the chef, you never get that disquieting feeling like you do when you’re alone. Just listening to the bubbling of a boiling pot of water or the soft whish of the knife against the cutting board is enough to sooth your rushing thoughts into a calm river that passes you by.

You enjoyed the playful bantering and flirting with Sanji, the way he sometimes lets you sneak a taste of whatever he’s cooking before it’s completely done, the way you can just enjoy the swaying of the ship and the scents permeating the air.

However, unbeknownst to you, some of the straw hats noticed your connection with the blond chef. One morning, as you stepped from your room and stretched under the beating sun shining onto the deck, Nami slides over, standing beside you with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Good morning, Nami! How did you sleep?” You smile, stretching out the tiredness from your arms. She smiles back at you, beginning to wander slowly to the railing away from the others milling about on the deck.

“Good, thank you. I wanted to talk to you for a minute, if you don’t mind.” She nods her head towards the rail and you follow along, intrigued by the lilt in her tone.

“Of course, what’s up?” You sidle over beside her, leaning against the rail and closing your eyes against the spray that tickles the skin on your nose and cheeks.

She rests her elbows beside yours and looks over at you, her orange hair blowing behind her with the wind.

“I’ve noticed you spend a lot of time with Sanji. What’s going on there?” You furrow your brows, not sure you’re understanding what she’s insinuating.

“We’re really good friends. I like spending time with him. It’s better than being alone, or dealing with Luffy’s rants.” You joke, chuckling to yourself. You love your captain but sometimes he really was a chatter box.

Nami doesn’t seem to accept your dismissal of her question, turning to face you, one arm leaning against the rail while her other hand comes to lay against her jean-clad hip. “Come on, the way you two are always flirting with each other? You know, he’s stopped flirting with me since you’ve started spending so much time in the kitchen. Don’t get me wrong, the pet names never stop, but he hasn’t been so… forward. Not that I’m complaining, it’s about time he got the hint.” She smirks at you as she says this, as though you’re supposed to know what that all means.

“I’m not sure what that has to do with me. I like to joke around with him too; that’s all it is. Jokes. I mean, no way there’s anything actually there, he flirts with everyone. I mean, he still flirts with the women in towns when we dock. That’s just how he is.” Nami doesn’t look convinced but you shrug her off. “Listen, Nami, I just like spending time with him. If something were to happen, that would be between Sanji and I. For now, I would appreciate you taking me for my word. We’re friends, he makes me feel safe, there doesn’t have to be anything else out of it.”

She puts her hands up, smiling at you sadly. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I would just make sure he was aware of that, if I were you. You wouldn’t want to lead him on and hurt his feelings.”

With that, she waved and wandered off towards the map room. You sink against the railing, closing your eyes against the sinking feeling filling your gut again. Were you being too nice to Sanji? Nami said he wasn’t flirting with her as often; was it really because of you? You didn’t think that you were giving him the wrong idea; you never crossed any lines, as far as you could tell. Sure, Sanji was clingy – he liked hugs and touching your hands and arms, he would sometimes feed you little scraps of food like fruit as he’s working, you both often flirted with each other, you both called each other pet names, and you always sit next to him at dinner.

But were those necessarily bad things? Was Sanji thinking it meant something more? You thought you both understood you were friends.

Did you want more?

The thought stopped you in your tracks, your eyes snapping open as you stared into the ocean.

No, of course not. You were just friends, that’s all it was. He was nice to you, you got along so well and you didn’t want the relationship to change in any way – you had no intention of turning this into anything more. At least for now…

You run a hand over your face, groaning softly to yourself. You shouldn’t let what Nami said bother you so much. You shake your body out one last time, hoping to rid yourself of both the tightness from your rest and the stress of what Nami mentioned.

You continue with your morning routine, going to the bathroom to relieve yourself and freshen up a little before heading towards the kitchen. Nothing was going to stop you from seeing your favorite blond.

You step through the door and are instantly met with the sweet scent of maple and berries. Sanji turns towards the door when he hears its resounding squeak, a smile instantly lighting up his face as he spots you.

“Good morning, darling! I hope you slept well. I made pancakes for breakfast today, with an assortment of fruit.” He gently pushes forwards a plate, decorated beautifully with an array of colors from the fruits topping the cakes.

“Thank you, Ji. You always know exactly what to cook to make the day a little better.” You smile, sliding into your respective seat. You pull the plate closer to you, lifting the fork and knife he has set out before you. Just as you raise the fork to begin eating, you notice that Sanji is staring at you.

You pause, looking up at the man with a raised eyebrow. He always liked hearing whether you enjoyed the newest dish (he really really loved praise) but he had never been so brazen about watching you eat before. “Can I help you, sweetie?” You ask, smiling at the way his face seems to melt at the pet name, nearly turning him to jelly before your very eyes. He really was just a big softie, at the end of the day.

“You just seem off this morning, my love. I wanted to make sure you were alright. I apologize if I’ve caused any offense.” He says, wiping his hands on a towel before tossing it over his shoulder.

“I seem off?” You chuckle awkwardly, hoping that you don’t radiate the problems running through your head. You didn’t want to worry him – he was always so kind and good to you, the last thing you wanted was to mar him with the darkness in your brain that you spent so much time around him to avoid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I simply mean that you seem a little more subdued is all. Again, I meant no offense. I just hope your meal will cheer you up from whatever is dampening my sweet (y/n)’s demeanor this morning.” He turns away as he says this, as though it doesn’t really matter either way what happens with you, but you know that’s just how he “keeps his cool”.

Sanji’s entire existence wraps around his ability to put on an air of confidence and poise, as though nothing can truly touch him or hurt him, when you are well aware that he feels much more deeply than he lets on. You don’t think that any of the other straw hats noticed this about the chef, but after spending so much time with him, you knew that he simply wore his heart on his rolled up sleeve – there, but only if you have the attention and the compassion to look that close.

You don’t respond, simply beginning to dig into the food placed before you. Unsurprisingly, it’s everything you could have asked for, and more. Somehow, in record time, Sanji seemed to memorize your palate, knowing exactly what things you liked, what you disliked, what you couldn’t stomach to eat, what ratios of flavors brought you the most joy. You didn’t think he paid that much attention, since he was always working while you talked and he never watched you eat, but without a doubt, Sanji knew exactly what you needed at any moment to satisfy your cravings.

You hum as you eat, vocalizing your enjoyment so that Sanji knows he did well, despite the fact he hasn’t turned back to look at you. When you finally finish your meal, you rise from the bar, collecting your dishes and heading to the sink to wash. You had the unspoken job of cleaning the dishes after Sanji. He hated that you did it, claiming that he could totally clean up after himself. But you felt bad, spending all your time in the kitchen with him but watching him do all the work. So, you resolved to cleaning the dishes to help out.

You quickly wash your dishes, scrubbing away the sticky, sugary mess that the syrup and fruits made on the plate. As you turn to grab something to dry the plate off with, you nearly stumble into Sanji’s outstretched hand holding out a dish towel for you. You take it, smiling up at him gratefully. He winks at you before turning back to whatever he was doing at the stove.

You dry off the plate, put it back in its respective spot, and settle yourself back onto your bar stool. As you rest your arms against the counter, putting your chin against your palms, you watch the way that Sanji flits about the kitchen. He seems to be doing a million things at once, from cutting up food for prep to mixing up what looks like some kind of dipping sauce to stirring a boiling broth. You can’t imagine thinking about all of those things at once without burning or ruining something.

Your mind slowly drifts to the way he looks so calm and serene doing it all. His face stays in a gentle smile, as though there isn’t anywhere he would rather be than here. He practically dances around from place to place, light on his toes and seemingly high in spirits. His hands are graceful as he quickly slides the knife to slice whatever ingredient he needs next; his chest rising and falling so slowly, you wonder if he’s breathing. His effortlessness never seizes to amaze you.

“I know I’m fascinating, but I would love to know what has you so enthralled by my movements today, mon cherie. If there’s something wrong, please don’t let it fester. Spill your heart to me, my love.” He leans his arms against the counter, his head tilted to look at you with softened eyes, as though you might run away at any moment. As if you would ever run away from him.

“I don’t know.” You mumble, not wanting to get into it with him, but the way he looks at you, with those seemingly all-knowing eyes, you can’t help but crumble. “Fine, I just- I talked with Nami this morning, and she mentioned some things that got me thinking. Which isn’t always good for me, because sometimes my brain doesn’t like me and it says mean things to me. So I try not to think, which usually being here with you makes it easier, but because of the conversation today, it makes it worse, but I don’t want to not be with you, because I don’t want you to worry and I do like spending time with you, so I didn’t want to change our routine, but the routine is what’s making me think, so now I’m just in this spiral.”

You sigh at the end, flopping against the table so your head rests against your forearms and you don’t have to look at Sanji, who you know is probably looking at you like a lunatic. After a moment, you hear the sound of his shoes scuffing against the floor and you freeze, for fear that he was leaving, like so many other people you had scared away. Instead, the sound grows closer and you soon feel a gentle hand resting against your side, guiding you up from the counter and towards his body.

You turn yourself into the embrace, surprised at how gently he cradles your body against his, one hand resting against your back, the other coming to cup your head against his chest. He holds you as though he expects you to break, and you nearly rip yourself from his grasp at the thought that he must be pitying you. How horribly morbid and depressing you must have sounded, saying how “mean” your thoughts are, as though it wasn’t your own problem to deal with. Telling him was selfish and would surely make him see you completely differently from how he saw you before.

“You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. Whether that be a place to hide out from your thoughts, or a talking companion to wander through those feelings, or simply a nice meal, I’m always here to help you feel better.” He presses his lips against the top of your head and you pull away softly, not wanted to offend him, but needing to say something more.

“That’s another problem.” You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face as the Frenchman furrows his brows at you. “Nami made it seem like I’m leading you on by treating you like this. That spending time with you and flirting with you and all these things are going to make you think something else about me. And I don’t want that to happen. Too many times have I cared for someone, shared my time and joy with that person, felt that we couldn’t be closer or better friends, and then something goes wrong and somehow it’s always my fault. Sometimes, the person starts to like me more than I like them or more than I’m willing to admit and if I don’t continue to act a certain way or give them a certain experience with our relationship or act a certain way, they leave. Or sometimes, people begin to think I act weird or they begin to get annoyed by certain behaviors and then they distance themselves and they leave. Sometimes I’m mean to them because I hold them to a high standard because I love them so I want to have good times with them and that’s stressful and they leave. Sometimes I try to act how I think they want me to act and that makes them leave. Sometimes I’m too clingy and people become afraid I’m too attached and they leave. There’s always something, but in the end everyone leaves. But you…”

You take a deep breath, looking at the way Sanji is silently crying, tears falling from his eyes, but he doesn’t move or say a word, only watching you, waiting for you to spill your heart to him.

“You make me so damn happy. You are kind and gentle and you listen to me and you notice little things before I have to even mention them to you. You seem to know everything I’m thinking before I have to say it, you can read my body language and you’re willing to do anything for me if I ask or even just think it and I’m so so afraid I’ll mess everything up and I’ll lose you too. Because god damn it, if I lose one more person who means so much to me, I might just burst. I might not come back from it all and I really really need you to understand that the way you quiet my brain and make me feel so normal and calm is something I just can’t lose. You are the one person I think can truly understand me and I love you so much for that, but I’m so afraid that any little step will send you pushing me away.”

Sanji shakes his head, reaching his hands out for you again, and you can’t stop him from pulling you into his embrace. His tears fall against the top of your head and you quickly realize you were crying too because your tears soak into his shirt and stick it against your face. You just stay like that for a while, letting him hold you, his lips resting against your head to give small kisses to your scalp.

Finally he releases you enough to pull you back, looking down at you with sad, sweet eyes.

“I will never leave you. Until the ends of the earth, until the sun dies, until you push me away, I will never leave you. I see you, (y/n), I see what you go through, the pain your brain puts you through, the horrible memories I know plague your every waking movement. I can see through it all because I go through it every day. And I know that you see me, just as well. We are open books to each other, my love, and there’s nothing we can do except cherish each other and protect each other. I know what Nami said to you.”

You take a breath, about to explain everything to him, put he shushes you, placing his hand against your cheek.

“You have nothing to explain, sweetheart. I am here for you, however you need me. And I can only hope that I can get a sliver of the same in return. But until you tell me otherwise, I will be your partner through think and thin. I am at your disposal as friend, confidante, chef, anything, as long as you continue to smile and make me smile. Do you understand?”

You sob again, pulling the blond chef against you this time, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him flush against you. You thank him, repeatedly, over and over, like a mantra, until he pulls away to wipe your tears from your face.

“Anything for you, darling. Now, let me finish cooking lunch.” He steps back around to the other side of the counter, sliding you a small plate of crackers you hadn’t noticed before, winking at you, before turning back to the stove.

You nibble happily on one of the salty crackers, resting your elbows against the counter as you watched his back. He truly was the only one who understood you.

[katiefrog217]

Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~) 🌈 🌈

Sorry for not getting to this sooner! I had a long and busy week and I needed some time to scroll through my follower list and pick out the cool peeps to tag in this (because I don't want to go barging into everyone's DMs/askbox). Also hi! I recognize your username! Loved the little thing you wrote for Good Omens! :))

Anyway! To start! 5 things I like about myself:

I'm self-aware (weird flex but ok). Seriously though, I at least try to be aware of all my bad habits/quirks so I can try to work on them (or at least, keep them to a minimum). I fail at it sometimes, but that's alright.

I'm enthusiastic about everything I love, and don't let age stop me. I will ramble on about my OTPs fight me.

I enjoy my art, all of it, even if its not the best. Don't get me wrong, I'm frustrated with it a lot.

I try to enjoy/engage with everything, even if it isn't my genre or hobby. I think people should be allowed to enthusiastically ramble on about the things they love, even if they don't interest me personally.

I'm a realistic optimist. That is, I always consider the worst things that could happen, and plan for the worst, but always hope that things will turn out for the best regardless. Its important to stay grounded in reality, but that doesn't mean we can't wish for the otherwise. That's just how I feel, anyway!

Ok! Now onto the hard part, the tagging of people. I could do this in DMs or send them an ask, but I think this works just as well. I can also just make you go and check out their pages this way ;)

@lickthecowhappy - one of the first people I followed and generally interacted with after returning to Tumblr. A real cool person, always liking and reblogging real niche Good Omens stuff. They also write good poetry!

@knifeforkspooncup - for being a real cool person to allow me to ramble in their DMs about the things I'm working on (unprompted). They are also a good artist and write some fantastic stuff! Go read it!!

@thatskindarough - For similar reasons to Knife, for letting me ramble on in their DMS like a madwoman about Good Omens and the fic I'm working on, and for suppling me ideas. They do some great art and are really fun, do go check them out!!

@darcydoesfuckall - I see them in my reblogs a lot, and I think they are an enthusiastic person who deserves to have their stuff seen more (they draw and do cosplay!!). Go check out their patreon and their Good Omens project at Qe-Podfic!

@ineffable-hyperfixation - Again, I always see them in my reblogs, and they are always up for interaction. A fun person! :D

@examishbookwyrm, @devotea, and GoodOmensDuh (Sorry I can't seem to tag the last one :( ). I don't always interact with these 3 much, but they pop up on my activity enough and I appreciate them being here :))

I know I'm supposed to do 10 but I can't think of any more rn, 8 will have to do sdfhjhjfdg

-SLAMS HAND DOWN

I GOT IT @kurisutt and @irradiatedwarlock are my last two! Because like the last few, they are always, always in my activity and I appreciate that they like my stuff enough to be a constant in my notifications!!

[brandileigh2003]

Ok. But like?

I'm cool with remus not being traditionally beautiful. But Sirius still thinking he's the best thing ever. I think that he has certain attractive features, but he's def not some rockstar and most ppl don't take a second glance. But you need that to see the shade of his eyes, his crooked smile. Sirius loves him and finds beauty because of not despite of his scars. Bc they show strength and tell a story.

Mid level I think someone put it. Sure, I get why that can be a thing.

But. I think he can have sex appeal in other ways. His smile, his voice, a look in his eyes, muscles in certain places that defies him being otherwise skinny.

I'm fine with sirius being super intelligent and quick. Its canon after all. I love how him and James have this quality. But I don't think that means that remus liking to read or studying a lot takes that away from Sirius. I think that he likes academic validation, and he needs to read and study to stay caught up. He wants to prove he's worthy to be at school and has to work for it. I do think that he's smart though, and adds to group dynamics.

I don't think that he's just a downer and boring persay, otherwise why would they want to be with him. I think that he'll do the research maybe on the great idea that Sirius and James had and they will later carry it out flawlessly. Or sees some kind of gap in the plan and can think quick to help patch it up.

I do think he probably gets so hyperfixated on things which some people can't stand. but sirius loves to hear him talk about it. Just like remus is obsessed with everything sirius has to say. He's totally a nerd but I don't think he's just pathetic or a loser. Or maybe I just don't see those words the same as the recent posts have been using for him.

I think he's extraordinarily kind. he worships sirius, who in turn thinks remus is also the best. He's not rude to him even though I really do think they fight. But can't stay mad at each other long.

I do think that he can be angry, but I also think that a lot of times it's just at himself or crappy life circumstances. He's normally careful to keep any anger controlled bc he's worried about perception.

he's shy and and awkward and deals with a lot. He loves to help the younger students, and he uses above hard earned study methods to help them bc everything doesn't just come naturally or can share how he overcame it.

If everyone has a crush it's not bc he's completely hot or any of that. He's a soft boy with big comfy sweaters that gives good hugs. He's a good listener, a good teacher, shares anything he has, especially the chocolate that seems to be never ending in his bag. Bc he believes that it'll make you feel better. He has a kind word or compliment and can make you feel better.

I think he can be a momma's boy. And wants hope or poppy to hug him, and give him a space to cry and be weak. Otherwise I think that he likes to try to hide his pain bc he doesn't want to be a burden.

And ... That all said. I think that CR remus is different than a lot of this and hes absolutely perfect and I love him and I'd do insane things for this fictional man. It's one of my favorite ways to read about him. But something that carries over there from everything else I said is how enamored he is with Sirius Black. And how much he loves his inner circle. How he has this sacrificial love.

But anyways, I could go on about CR but that's totally not the point. Ive just seen a few things and wanted to say some things about how I see him a lot. And maybe the posts that have me feeling kind of sad talking about him are actually saying some of the same things I'm just negatively associating some words or ideas bc I know personally I can also interpret things completely the wrong way or not read into the subtext well enough

Let me know what you think. But if you think this is wrong; be kind.

And the people who like to come all up in my inbox about hating Sirius-- this isnt that. To be clear. I don't want remus to take over any traits of Sirius or whatever else you accuse me of. This has to do mostly with remus except me saying that sirius sees something in remus that a lot of people don't, that they're in love and adore each other.

I do in fact love Sirius Black and think he's wonderful. And you're missing the point if you think I hate that man. But I want to talk about remus rn and if you want something talking about Sirius, so many other wonderful people on here do that, so let's find that instead and let me hyperfixate and talk about remus.

Other random things I'll probably add to that really are prb just me.

-he is a horrible dancer. But he'll do it for sirius

-he'd do almost anything for Sirius.

-he's a music snob. But he'll read anything

-he is super annoying in class bc he shakes his leg or taps his quill. Sirius thinks it's adorable though.

-he needs a cane around the full. But he doesn't like to use it.

-the man loves weed. Him and hope smoke together.

-he has no idea how to take care of his hair

-to me he's associated with chronic illness, pain or disability in every universe. Or some mix or variation. (Ofc authors have free choice it's their story and I have no right for demands or anything) but I write him that way, hc him that way, get stupidly happy when I read it bc I feel so seen, search AO3 tags regularly for these portrayals.

-remus has no sense of style. But sirius doesn't care, he's so soft and cozy with his sweaters. The only thing about that is that I'm personally convinced hope bought remus a leather jacket, he shows up wearing it on the train, Sirius somehow gets his hands on it... Remus' eyes pop out of his head, maybe drools a bit- and it becomes Sirius' trademark

[spikedsoul]

maid's worst nightmare - ch 38

sorry y'all, i'm just realizing it's taking me a month between shortass chapters and i feel bad ;o; just been stupidly busy and hyperfixated on games i recently got. i'll try to post more often but as usual i can't promise, so thank y'all for sticking with me!

previous chapters

@sovereign-of-succ

"We can talk about it later, but not in front of the kids!" you whispered harshly to Bowser as he carried you toward the waiting boys. From your angle, you could see the corner of his mouth twitching like he was struggling to hold back a smirk - and you could also see Morton and Ludwig exchanging glances with each other as they stood waiting in the shadow of the stadium wall.

Junior was the one to speak up as the two of you drew closer.

“You’re late!” the little koopa huffed, pointing an accusing claw at you and Bowser. “What took you so long?!”

“You two get a little tangled up at lunchtime?” Ludwig snickered.

Fuck, they were gonna make you blush and give away that yes, that’s what happened, and you really didn’t want to admit that to the kids… or at least, you didn’t want to admit it with Junior there.

You did your best to roll your eyes convincingly; Ludwig probably wouldn’t buy it, but you were hoping Morton and Junior would. Before you could speak up, though, Bowser beat you to it: “Actually, we had to swing by sister’s room so she could measure this li’l maid for some new clothes. Peach said it could be a few more weeks ‘fore she can go home.”

Morton put his hands on his hips, his eyes squinted in suspicion even as he nodded. “Alright… then why are you carrying her? There’s no reason for that unless she can’t walk, so are you telling me she also hurt her leg or something to warrant this?”

Damn it, Morton was too smart for his own good! And Ludwig just looked smug as hell. He knew.

“Can’t a maid trip down the stairs without getting grilled about it?” you mumbled as you brought your hands to your face. “Also don’t I have a race to ref? Let’s get to that. Still haven’t seen the inside of this stadium track and I’m eager to.”

Ludwig snickered softly. “Alright, alright. We’ll get everything powered up; you two just go get settled.”

“Papa?” You glanced down at Junior at his voice - only to see him staring intently and thoughtfully at the pair of you. Bowser hummed softly to encourage the little koopa to continue; you could feel the vibrations in his chest. “Are you still gonna try to capture Peach?” Junior’s eyes were now solidly fixed on you.

Outwardly, Bowser didn’t seem to react, but you could feel him tense. It seemed even Junior was onto him.

“I dunno, kiddo. Maybe if she wants help gettin’ that short guy to chase her, but I think it’s time I let her go, huh?” the king said rather tactfully. You made a note to praise him for that - the other kids already didn’t like Peach, so you were oddly proud that he was openly telling them he was moving on.

Wait, why was Junior pointing at you with that grin on his snout?

“Mama,” he stated.

Your face flushed immediately and you hid behind your hands again. “I’m too young to be a mom!” you protested despite being perfectly old enough to be at least a young mother.

The boys all broke out into cackling and scurried off without another word, leaving you and Bowser standing there near the stairs that led up into the stadium. By now, you were pretty certain they had planned that, even if Ludwig had to probably explain what was happening to Junior and Morton. The two older boys had probably intentionally convinced Junior to call you Mama now instead of Peach, and if you were honest, you had no idea how you really felt about that.

All in all, it was probably inevitable given that you intended to stay by Bowser’s side much longer than a few more weeks, and so you probably wouldn’t have avoided the ‘Mama’ tag indefinitely - you just hadn’t expected Junior to so quickly turn around on who his mother figure would be.

Maybe he hadn't, actually. Maybe they got him to say it just to see how you'd react. Yeah, honestly that seemed more likely…

"So," Bowser grunted as he started up the stairs, "Now that you're officially Mama to my youngest… that makes me Daddy, right?" He grinned broadly, obviously proud of himself for circling back to that conversation.

"Maybe," you hummed, hoping it would humble him a little.

"Definitely," he chuffed. "Definitely yes."

He finally crested the stairs and started down the stone hallway that blocked your view of the stadium. You were definitely getting excited to see what all was in store for this race. So excited, in fact, that you were happy to drop the subject of what he wanted you to call him - you couldn't even help wiggling just slightly in his arms as some of the track began to come into the limited view of the hallway.

"Excited?" he rumbled, gently squeezing you to him; at least he had the decency to change topics, and you enjoyed the closeness.

You lightly rubbed your cheek on his chest as you replied, "Yeah, honestly. I don't think I've ever seen anything like a race track before."

"Wait until ya see it workin'."

Electricity suddenly thrummed through the air just a few steps away from the hallway exit, and you sucked in a breath as the ground itself briefly shuddered. Subconsciously, you reached up and curled your fingers around Bowser's spiked collar, your knuckles lightly pressing against his soft, warm scales. You felt him gently squeeze you again in an effort to help you keep calm.

Bowser rumbled softly as he finally stepped into the light of the buzzing stadium. Your eyes went wide in awe as you took in the grand sight in front of you.

There was a straight stretch of road that ran along the seats, the starting/finish line off to the right a little; a loud sound off to your left had your head whipping around, just to see a pair of thwomps slowly warming up, one of them just lifting from the ground. The road past them was swallowed up by a massive castle-like structure, no doubt with more hazards lying in wait. To the right, down a ways from the line, was a little block with balls of fire slowly popping out of it in a spinning obstacle. Your nose wrinkled as the smell of sulfur wafted over the seating area. On both sides, transparent boxes are slowly appearing with question marks on them.

"Well, my dear?" Bowser purred. He gave you a few minutes to take it in before turning to head up more stairs, straight to a spot that was obviously reserved for him: a tall throne-like chair with a cushy-looking cushion on the seat for his heavy body.

Sitting on top of the cushion was a blanket, no doubt for you just in case of a blizzard, and an envelope with Bowser's name in fancy script.

"It's incredible," you murmured. "I can't wait to see the race in action. But how will we keep track of the boys when they're on the rest of the track?"

He hummed softly, shifting you into one arm and carefully clearing his seat of the items. "A screen'll pop up showin' the boys when they get outta sight. Lakitus are gonna be positioned around the track to get us good angles."

You nodded a bit, settling in his lap carefully. That was interesting, but you didn't have time to comment before you could see the boys slowly driving their karts up to the starting line.

"Oh! Here they come!" You grinned, resisting the urge to wave at the boys. They didn't seem to be looking your way anyway.

You forgot to bring up the envelope and Bowser didn't care to remind you.

[batfam-big-bang]

Meet the Mods: Bri!

Pronouns: they/them

Introduce yourself!

hello, I'm Bri! I've been on the team for three years now, and I'm excited we're back for our 5th anniversary!

Your favorite meme from a previous bbb?

ohhhh it's probably also peach god, just like jess? it's just a classic

Your favorite part of big bangs?

i've said before how i love the beginning of the bang, when everyone stumbles in and looks for their friends... but i also love the middle of it, when we get to release the claiming document and everyone is all over it and ooh-ing and aww-ing over the ideas! it's such a lovely atmosphere and, as a writer myself, it also shows you the part you usually don't see - the excitement someone else gets out of your fic (idea)!

How long have you been into dc/batfam?

funnily enough, it will also be five years in summer! i really went down the rabbit hole and stayed there :D

Do you regret getting into batfam/dc?

i mean, sometimes??? like all good hyperfixations, this has consumed too much of my time and energy >:(

but I've met a ton of lovely people in the fandom! some of my best friends I've met here, and i wouldn't trade them for the world (not even when dc releases another sucky batman comic) <3

What's a storyline you would love to see adapted for a movie, tv show, or something else?

you know what. i ranted about it on the weekend to a friend, so i'm going to say it: literally any storyline with a batman villain that is not the joker. there, i said it.

Who is your favorite batfam member? Why?

this is maybe an out-there answer, but i love carrie kelley and i wish we had more of her... because she's so cool and I think she has a lot of unused potential :0

Which batfam member do you think you’d get along/be good friends with?

i think i could get along with dick well! he's smart, capable, likes to micro-manage, and would fucking love my kpop serotonin spotify playlist.

Do you have any favorite fanworks?

oh I've not been consuming much batfam fics lately (i have another hyperfixation burning at higher flame rn), but let me recommend the one i am reading:

@eventualtoast has an ongoing no lazarus pit au series that is absolutely fantastic! it's a canon rewrite that imagines jason coming back without being put in the lazarus pit.

toast pays so much attention to how the same thing can differently affect people and relationships, and i personally love the dual perspectives from bruce and jason on the same events throughout the series!

please heed the content warnings (graphic depictions of violence, permanent injuries/traumatic brain injury, discussions of ableism), but it's at 73k and i know for a fact they have more planned!!

Do you know what you want to do for this year's big bang, if you're participating as a writer/artist?

I might participate as a beta this year because my next semester in college looks like it will be somewhat busy! also, this way I can read some of the fics beforehand :D

Anything you’d like to add?

i hope to see many of you back for this year, and if you're new to the fandom/unsure if you want to participate, please do! we love new people and everyone is really sweet :D

[scattered-winter]

hey! hope you're doing good! if you don't mind me asking, what made you want to start the voltron rewrite?

I absolutely don't mind u asking!!!!!! will always ramble abt shit here on scattered winter dot com

its....kind of a long story. see I was caught up in the voltron hype a few years ago, and was obsessed with it from day one. I feel fairly confident in saying that it was my first fandom-related hyperfixation that lasted for quite a long period of time. I had mutuals and friends, and wrote fic and generally just participated in fandom and had a BLAST despite the source material being. less than stellar. but well the voltron fandom is notorious for being absolutely batshit (derogatory) and eventually the negativity from the fandom kind of drove me out (it was also just bitterness and anger on my part from the way the show ended because man.) but regardless the voltron hyperfixation went dormant for a really long time as I moved onto other things. but the concept kinda stayed with me (because let's be real its an AWESOME concept with sooo much cool worldbuilding potential that was never tapped into) and I played with the idea of an all-oc cast with my own story as the years went by, but never really went farther than daydreaming and making picrews lmao. but in the last few months the voltron hyperfixation has been flaring up as I've started rereading some of my fav fics and remembering why I liked this show in the first place, negativity and disappointment aside. and voltron is the perfect combination of worldbuilding potential, fascinating characters, and stupid fucking ass writing decisions that fuel me with enough spite to just write my own version. I've played with the idea of a voltron rewrite for a long time as I've thought about the characters more and what I would have done with them and the worldbuilding if I were in charge, but I didn't really actually start thinking about it seriously until I started rewatching the first season and remembered all the REALLY cool stuff it had. so long story short, now that most of the negative people have left the fandom, and now that I've had time to be in a better mindset abt the show, I'm doing this rewrite both because I'm frustrated by the dumb directions the source material went, and because I genuinely love the source material. at least, the core of it. AND as a bonus I'm genuinely having sooo much fun thinking about and planning the rewrite !!!! every single character got absolutely butchered after s2 and I want sooo badly to do them justice, because I love them all so much and they're all really close to my heart and I'm literally just having the time of my life out here <3 I don't even really mind that the fandom is practically dead nowadays and so my rewrite probably won't get that much attention because 1) I have soo many friends and bestiemutuals enabling me and cheering me on 2) I'm GENUINELY having so much fun. like it's been sooooo long since I've been this motivated and inspired and excited for a writing project and it's an amazing feeling to have

[powerfultenderness]

i was very deep in a new hyperfixation when you posted this, but i saved it to read later when i could think clearly again, and ohmygod! i might be a little upset at myself that it took me so long to get to this!

the catalyst is so funny! with reader thinking it's all about the gorilla (and john almost figuring that out lol!), but then she remains cool enough that team just accepts that she knows about butterflies! 😆

the love between them is everything! of course Vig was hesitant to reveal his identity, even though he clearly wanted a deeper relationship!

“Man, I am so good at this secret identity thing if I can keep it a secret from a PI.” - aaah, this whole scene is so cute! 🥰 really, the whole way she wants adrian to feel comfortable enough about his secret and to want to really commit to the relationship and then he doesn't!! ��

"“And I wish you had given me a reason to stay, V. I deserved someone who could trust me. And you… you deserved someone you could be yourself with. We couldn’t be that for each other.”- 😭

“You think I fund being Vigilante on a busboy salary? I get a lot of tips.”- lmaooo!!! omg yea if i saw a busyboy THAT cute, i'd tip extra super generously too!

"He tilts his head and you watch dimples form as the corners of his mouth turn into a mischievous smile. “That’s kind of the idea.”- listen, i know in the show we don't see him flirty like this, but this charm fits him sooo damn well! i love it!

“Let me find out if you’re a bad kisser. At least I can tell myself I’m not missing out on anything if you are.” “You’re gonna be so mad…” He cups your face and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m a really good kisser.” - ugh!!! got me meltinggggg!!!

the smut is hot, very hot! but also so freakin romantic!! so passionate and i love the way both of them clearly wanted and missed being together! but now they're together in a way that's even closer than before! him asking her to say his name again and the little chant/babble of his name coming from her! ugh!!

"You lunge forward and bite on his neck."- YES!!! highlight! yes!!!! NOM!!! Grrr!! AHHH!!!

Also! the m&ms!! what a fucking delight (lol)! the wya it opens with her munching on m&ms all nervously, the way she shares the m&ms with john as she's sharing the intel she gathered. the little bit of foreshadowing of blindly fumbling around candy packs while looking for a condom and then seeing he stocked up because

“I guess I always hoped you might change your mind and come back. So I bought them whenever I thought about you.” - ahhhhh!!! 😍😍😭😭

he is a fucking sweetheart and i love him and i love this soo much! it's so good! and so fun to read!! what an excellent fic!

Never Been Kissed (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: SMUT, Second chance romance, Canon typical descriptions of murder and violence, Oral (fem receiving), P in V, Safe sex (male condom), Multiple orgasms

Summary: You're a PI who joins the 11th Street Kids after a chance meeting with John Economos on the dark web. Unfortunately for you, your ex-friend-with-benefits Vigilante is here too. (Based on this ask by anon)

A/N: This took a hot minute. The M&Ms were originally cigarettes but these days I'm a healthy queen free of nicotine -purr.

Masterlist

Join my tag list: @likeficsinthewnd, @she-wolf09231982, @pretendfan, @lolitstiana, @countlambula, @chiaraanatra, @stainedpomegranatelips, @navs-bhat, @ohnoitsrosie, @daisydark, @angrydragon90, @intense-sneezing

Chapter text:

The dim fire exit sign outside the back of the abandoned video store flickers as you suck a peanut M&M between your tongue and the roof of your mouth anxiously. You hope your contact hurries the fuck up - if he makes you wait any longer you’ll finish an entire party bag from nervousness.

It was stupid, really, even reckless, to meet a stranger from the dark web. But when some guy called TechConomos_11 had responded to you in a chat room where you were discussing the intel you had on some sinister goings-on in Evergreen, you knew you had to meet him and his team.

Because you’ll be damned if anyone catches the escaped gorilla before you.

There’s a clink of a padlock and chain falling to the floor, the sound of a heavy emergency exit bar being pushed down and when the door opens you’re face to face with a large, bearded man wearing glasses. 

“Are you the PI?”

If you had to draw a sketch of what you thought a guy you met on the dark web would look like, he would be it. Not a neckbeard, exactly, just someone with the distinct aura of having too much time spent in front of a screen.

You nod. “TechConomos?”

“Call me John. Come inside - the team’s all here.”

You shove the half-empty pack of M&Ms into your bag and he leads you through to the back office. 

“This is Murn, Harcourt and Adebayo.” He gestures to his three associates sitting in the office who each acknowledge you in turn. “And these guys-”

“Fuck it! Fuck, fuck fuck!”

The yelling draws your attention to the window separating the office from the rest of the video store and it’s like a knife in your gut when you see him.

Vigilante.

“Ugh, fuck! It hurts to walk!” Vigilante whines as he limps around. He turns to pace some more but stops in his tracks in alarm when he sees you. He immediately dives to the floor, launching himself behind a desk in a futile attempt to hide.

Vigilante is the last person you expected to - or wanted to - see here. It’s not his usual MO - normally he’d be out hunting thugs and drug dealers. What was he doing caught up in this operation with some tech guy and a team who you suspected were either current or former soldiers?

There’s a roaring laugh and your eyes find Peacemaker, doubled over in his chair, laughing like an idiot at Vigilante sprawled on the ground. 

That explains Vigilante’s involvement. Looks like his idol, Peacemaker, is finally out of prison and the first thing he does is rope Vigilante into whatever this is. The whole thing stinks. Why is there an entire team with two capes looking for an escaped zoo animal? Any why did one of those capes have to be Vigilante? 

You close your eyes and groan. “You didn’t tell me you were working with them.”

“You know each other?” asks Harcourt.

“Just Vigilante.” You sigh and follow them into the video store.

“Hey, asshole,” you say, peering over the desk Vigilante is hidden behind. He looks up at you and props his masked head up on his arm casually as if you didn’t just see him throw himself there a second ago.

“Oh, hey!” he says, feigning pleasant surprise.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I hurt my pinky toe.”

“Yeah? Which one?” You walk around the desk and stand at his feet to get a better look.

“Nononono! Wait!”

You clock the way his visor-covered eyes dart down to his right foot in panic. 

“Woah, did you think I was gonna kick you or something?” Sure, you have beef but you’re kind of offended he’d think that you’d harm him on purpose.

“No…” he mumbles sheepishly.

“Asshole.” You roll your eyes and sit on the hard wooden surface, turning away from him to face the team.

“Who the fuck is this?” Peacemaker asks Murn before looking between you and Vigilante. “Do you two know each other or something?”

You don’t deign to reply.

There’s a squeak of a chair being dragged on linoleum as Vigilante pulls himself up onto a seat next to Peacemaker with a wince.

“Economos says you want to join the team,” says Murn. 

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I know everything that goes on in Evergreen.”

“And?”

“I have information and skills that I want money for. Obviously.”

“How much?”

You were talking about splitting the reward for the gorilla but Murn’s expectant look makes it clear this is a contract. What’s that saying again? A contract in the hand is worth a gorilla in the bush? … Something like that.

“Well, what are you paying him?” You cast your eyes at Vigilante who shrugs. Unbelievable. “They’re not paying you? Idiot.”

Murn and Harcourt glance at each other awkwardly. “This is strictly off the books,” says Murn.

“So you were just going to take advantage of him? No way. I want my pay backdated for all the intell I’ve found for you. And his too for whatever it is he’s doing for you.”

“How do you guys know each other?” asks John, pulling up a chair behind his laptop.

You look at Vigilante warningly and answer before he can open his fat mouth. “I’ve sent some work his way once or twice. And compensated him fairly for it,” you add pointedly.

“Oh, they’ve definitely fucked,” laughs Peacemaker.

“Shouldn’t you be in Belle Reve?” You glare at him.

Peacemaker ignores the question. “Did he keep the mask on with you too?” He pouts faux-sympathetically.

This catches you off-guard. Not Vigilante and Peacemaker fucking - Vigilante is so obsessed with him that you guessed it was only a matter of time.

But he did keep his mask on.

Vigilante groans and leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and staring determinedly at his injured foot.

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Enough!” Murn gives Peacemaker a severe look before turning his attention back to you. “John says you know the location of what we’re looking for.”

“I’m not telling you until you get me up to speed with what you’ve got so far. John wouldn’t tell me shit online. Call it a show of good faith.”

“And we’re supposed to just take your word that you actually have useful information?” asks Adebayo.

John opens his mouth to reply but Vigilante beats him to the punch.

“She knows,” says Vigilante, finally looking up. “She’s… she’s a good PI. If she says she knows, she knows.”

“Well, we can’t divulge state secrets just because Vigilante vouches for you. Tell us the ‘where’ and if it checks out - you’re in,” says Harcourt.

You look around at this unlikely group. If you want to catch the gorilla you need their help. You need their weapons. You need their money.

“It’s at the Glan Tai bottling plant. You heard of it?”

“Pulling it up now…” John types on his keyboard. “It makes sense, Murn. They’ve got the production, the distribution channels… This is probably it.”

Distribution channels? What’s the gorilla at Glan Tai got to do with distribution? 

You keep your face neutral - if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this job, it’s when to sit back, shut up and listen.

You try to piece things together as Murn talks about ‘butterflies’ and their ‘food source’. Economos checks highway CCTV footage and confirms that your intel is correct. This is extremely lucky for you because you’re clearly talking about two entirely different things. You wonder if these ‘butterflies’ are some kind of parasite-induced sleeper agent. And maybe the food source is a drug to release them from their fugue state?

“...And the gorilla?” you ask eventually.

“What about the gorilla?” asks Harcourt.

“The gorilla is at Glan Tai.”

“There’s a Butterfly gorilla?” asks Vigilante excitedly. “That is so cool!”

“Is that even possible?” Harcourt asks Murn who nods.

You’ve seen some shit but a gorilla sleeper agent takes the fucking cake. They all seem totally unfazed so you pretend to be too.

“So, what’s our next move? When do we start killing these aliens?” asks Peacemaker.

Aliens.

You discreetly scan the others. Nobody else bats an eyelid at Peacemaker’s use of that word. 

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

“You two get some rest, come back tonight,” says Murn to Peacemaker and Vigilante. “And you - you’ve got evidence of what we’re doing here?” There’s no point in lying so you nod. “Bring it back here so we can destroy it. All of it.”

You, Peacemaker and Vigilante, leave the video store. You cross the street to get to your car but Vigilante calls your name. You turn around to see him hurriedly limping over while Peacemaker climbs into the Vigilantemobile.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re part of the team now.”

“I can’t return the sentiment.” You scowl at him. Peacemaker beeps the horn of Vigilante’s car. “You’d better hurry up - you don’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting.”

“We’re not in a relationship. You know I only wanted to be with-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“C’mon, can’t you at least tell me why you stopped answering my calls?”

“I already told you - I’m not going to wait around my entire life for a guy who won’t even show me his face. Or tell me his real name.”

“I can’t -”

“Save your excuses for someone who gives a shit.” Peacemaker blasts the horn again. “At least I know you keep the mask on when you fuck him too. It’s not like he’s seen your face.”

Vigilante’s visor-covered eyes avoid contact with yours. His hesitation is like a punch in the gut. 

“He’s seen your face?” You don’t mean to whisper it. The words just spill from your lips like you’ve been winded.

“Not like that. That was just a meaningless threesome-”

“But he’s seen it?”

He nods.

You push him aside to throw your car door open and get in. “Fuck you, V.” You slam it shut and drive away, not even bothering to glance at him standing haplessly in your rearview mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, you and John cross-check your intel. It’s becoming clear that this is way out of your fucking league. But if Vigilante can do it, you can too.

Right?

“You want some peanut M&Ms?”.

He accepts a handful gladly. “Why is so much of this about the fucking gorilla?” John asks with his mouth full, looking over your shoulder at your laptop screen.

The necessity of any quick thinking on your part is interrupted when you hear Murn’s voice ringing from the back office.

“You told Vigilante to kill Peacemaker's father?!” 

You and John drop what you’re doing and peer tentatively around the door of the office where Murn is berating Adebayo.

“I didn't tell him to… I just kinda put the idea in his head,” she explains.

“That Peacemaker would be better off without his father?”

Oh no.

“Where’s Vigilante?” you ask suspiciously, joining Murn as he stands with his arms crossed. He looks furious.

“He’s in jail,” mumbles Adebayo. “I might have suggested that if someone were to go in and kill Peacemaker’s dad, all our problems would go away.”

You run your hands through your hair.

“How could you manipulate him like that?” Your combat boots squeak on the floor as you pace across it, catastrophising aloud. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Vigilante is very fucking easy to manipulate. And he has a record. What if he kills someone in prison and gets locked up for life? Or what if he gets himself killed trying?”

“Peacemaker’s gonna see right through this. He’ll know exactly what you tried to do,” says Murn to Adebyo sternly.

They’re fucking crazy. 

“Who gives a shit about Peacemaker? Vigilante is locked in jail with the White Dragon!” You plead urgently. Vigilante is in real danger and all they care about is Peacemaker’s feelings.

“Economos, can you get Vigilante out of the system before he screws us worse than we're already screwed?”

John sighs. “I don’t even know this guy’s name.”

The four of them look at you.

You cross your arms. “I can’t tell you his name.”

“Guess he’s gonna die in prison then -”

“Last name Chase. First name Adrian.” You blurt out his secret that you’ve been holding deep in your chest. “But you can’t tell him I told you. He doesn’t know I know.”

You crowd around John’s laptop as he pulls up Adrian’s file. 

“We shouldn’t be looking at this,” you say as you stare intently at his mugshot - the mugshot you’re so well acquainted with. You’d rather die than admit how many hours you’ve spent sitting at your desk late at night, looking at his police record on your laptop.

And suddenly, it’s like you’re back in bed with him, as he stares breathlessly at the ceiling and you lie there naked on top of his bare chest, looking into his masked face, picturing that very same mugshot underneath it.

“Guess again,” Vigilante says. You can tell even under the mask that he’s grinning, enjoying your questioning.

“Hmm… are you a doctor? You’ve stitched yourself up a lot.”

“You think I’m a doctor and live here?”

Vigilante watches as you make a show of pursing your lips thoughtfully. The warm afternoon sun streaks through the gaps in his blinds onto his bed. It makes it look like there’s a golden halo around your messy bed hair. He tucks a small strand behind your ear as you walk your index and middle fingers along his chest and down his shoulder. 

“Maybe a fireman with these big strong arms?”

He likes you when you let your walls down like this. You’re almost downright playful when he’s satisfied you - a personality trait he still hasn’t extricated from you outside these four walls.

“Man, I am so good at this secret identity thing if I can keep it a secret from a PI.”

You laugh. “I guess so.”

He didn’t know that you had long known his real job. And his real name. Or that you’d trace your fingers over his face on your laptop screen as you tried to reconcile it with the masked killer who was content to let you into his bed but never his real life.

“Wasn’t he our busboy at Fennel Fields?” Adebayo’s question snaps you back to the present. 

“Can you pull him out?” You ask John.

“It’s… done.” He says, with a final click of his keyboard. “Let’s just hope he hasn’t done anything stupid. Yet.” 

Harcourt shrugs her leather jacket on. “I’ll pick him up.”

Great - first he reveals to Peacemaker who he is and now Harcourt who he’s known for a hot minute is about to see his face too. 

You frown. “He’s gonna be really upset we know his identity.” 

“You wanna come and soften the blow?”

“I’ll drive.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harcourt sits in the passenger seat of your car outside of the Evergreen Police Department. You’ve been sitting here quietly in the dark, staring at the front doors for almost an hour.

“So what’s your deal with Vigilante?” She asks, finally breaking the silence.

“I told you - I threw some contract work his way. Used him as a bodyguard from time to time when I needed the extra muscle.”

“And then what? Why did you call him an asshole?”

“Because he can be an asshole.” 

“That doesn’t sound right. A psychopath maybe. But an asshole? I don’t buy it.”

You keep your eyes focused on the police station door to hide your face. “He doesn’t mean to be an asshole.” You swallow with difficulty. “He just has a code. Lots of quirky little rules he has to follow that makes it difficult for someone ordinary like me to be - I mean, to work with him.”

“Like not revealing his secret identity.”

It’s not a question but you nod all the same.

“So this is your first time seeing him without his mask?”

“That he knows of.” Your forehead touches the cool glass window. It’s like if you stare hard enough at the door he’ll appear in one piece. “I had to do my background checks.”

The doors open and you see Adrian Chase in his cardigan and jeans walking out into the dark night, illuminated by the fluorescent streetlights.

He’s alive.

You roll down your window and he stops dead. He stares at you in shock with his lips parted slightly - unsure whether you recognise him or not.

Harcourt stretches across your seat and calls to Adrian. “We’re here to take you home. Get in.”

When he climbs into the back seat of your car you both turn in your seats. You breathe a sigh of relief seeing him up close - physically he’s unscathed.

“He’s still alive…” He says. “I’m Adrian.”

“Okay,” Harcourt says simply.

“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” you tell him.

He looks up at both of you sadly over his wire-rimmed glasses. “I think I might have made things worse.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After you drop Harcourt off at her motel, Adrian gets into the passenger seat. You let him give directions to his apartment, even though you already know where he lives.

“This is me,” he says when you pull up to his building and park in the spot you’ve parked in on countless occasions.

“I know.”

“Right. Yeah, you’ve been here.”

“A couple of times, yeah…”

His stupid code. You could know where he lives but never see his face. And now you can’t stop yourself from drinking him in - his slightly stubbly chin from his day spent in prison, the way his curly hair is all messed up. He groans heavily and leans his head back against the headrest. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“The guys know how you ended up in jail - they don’t blame you.” He doesn’t say anything. You search his face as he stares gloomily ahead. “What happened in there, V?” you ask.

“I tried to provoke Peacemaker’s dad into a fight. It worked at first - the Aryans took the bait but his dad saw right through it. I think I’ve fucked up the whole mission.”

So Vigilante went into a viper pit unarmed and provoked a bunch of nazis into fighting him.

Deep down, you know it’s fucked up to be attracted to someone capable of such violence but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s what drew you to him in the first place. You knew about the headlines before you met him. And the idea of him taking on a dangerous prison gang really shouldn’t make your heart pound the way it is right now.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

You’ve never touched his hair before but you want to stroke it and comfort him. Tell him that it wasn’t his fault and it’ll all be okay. But he interrupts your train of thought before you can reach your hand out. 

“I meant I’m sorry about us.”

Why is your first instinct to tell him that it’s no big deal that he broke your heart? Stupidly, you want to protect him from it - from the hurt he caused you. Comfort him, put his feelings before your own just because you can tell that right now he needs it.

But it is a big deal. 

As soon as you remind yourself he couldn’t trust you enough to let you in, it feels like your heart is shattering all over again, mourning what you could have had.

Trust.

“I told the team your name so they could bail you out,” you admit, desperate to get the fact that you betrayed him off your chest. “I was worried about you locked up in there.”

He turns his head to look at you properly for the first time all night. The streetlights are reflected in his dorky little glasses.

“You knew my name?” He doesn’t look betrayed - he just looks surprised. “How…?”

You lift your finger from the steering wheel to point at his apartment. “Anyone with your address could find out who you are. And your full name appears on my checking account when you cash the checks I write you.”

“So you know… everything?”

“Yup.”

His eyebrows knit together in a plea. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

“I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to want me to know.”

“Knowing my secret identity would put you at risk.”

“That bullshit and you know it, V. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Yeah you do - that’s why you had me come with you on jobs.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Then why did you hire me?”

“I was curious about the man behind the headlines, I guess. Then I nearly went broke trying to spend time with you. Do you honestly think I wanted to give you a cut of my contracts for months? ”

He presses his palms into his eyes, pushing his glasses up out of the way and trying to make sense of it all.

“So those jobs were just you finding a reason to hang out?” He drags his hands down his face.

“Well, not at first. But then we started sleeping together after jobs and I wanted to keep doing that.”

“I would’ve wanted to be with you even without those jobs.”

“Oh yeah? You’d have taken me out on a date as Vigilante?” He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again - as if reconsidering whatever he was about to say. “After all that time you still didn’t trust me enough to take off your mask. The last time we saw each other I practically begged you to show me who you are. Then Peacemaker comes back in town and you - what? Just rip off your mask and spill the beans without a second thought?”

“I was being tortured by Goff-”

“The senator tortured you?”

“Well, the Butterfly who had taken over his body. But yeah. He - I mean she - ripped off my mask and tried to cut off my pinky toe. Peacemaker was just there.”

You feel sick thinking about him being tortured. Then you feel sick about feeling sick. It’s not just normal empathy. You want revenge. But you know you shouldn’t care this much. Not when you’ve been broken up for so long.

“Shit, V. That’s horrible.” 

“Besides, if I was gonna show someone my face it would have been you. Not Peacemaker.” He looks at you sadly. “I wish you hadn’t left.” 

“And I wish you had given me a reason to stay, V. I deserved someone who could trust me. And you… you deserved someone you could be yourself with. We couldn’t be that for each other.”

The hurt on your face is plain for him to see - there’s no point trying to hide it. 

“I do trust you. It’s just…” He hesitates. “You’re the only person I know who thought I was cool.”

“Adrian… that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Adrian.

It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that and it makes Adrian’s heart leap. Like the two sides of him have finally met you. After all this time.

“It’s not. Everyone else who knows me as Adrian knows I’m a loser. And I thought if I told you I was a busboy with no friends, you’d think that too.”

“You have friends.”

“Yeah, right.”

“The guys in the video store? They were so worried about you in jail. They like you a lot.” He allows himself a small smile like he doesn’t really believe it. “And I…” You pause. How do you feel about Adrian? “I still think you’re cool.”

“You do?”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you’re actually saying the words he was afraid you’d never say.

“Of course I do. You’re still the masked Vigilante of Evergreen. And I’m just… ordinary.”

He scoffs in amazement. “You’re not ordinary - you’re like the smartest person I know. And you don’t need to hide behind a mask to do your job. 

“I’m not that smart.”

“I mean, you found out more about the butterflies than the US government.”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. “Can I tell you something? And you won’t tell the rest of the team?”

“You can tell me anything.” 

“I didn’t know what butterflies were until today.” He looks extremely confused so you press on. “I met John in a dark web chatroom when I was researching the missing gorilla. And I thought you guys were looking for it too.”

He laughs. A merciless side-splitting laugh that doesn’t take your embarrassment into consideration at all. But it shows off his beautiful smile. And when you see it you can’t stop yourself from joining in too. It’s so ridiculous. You wanted to find the gorilla, and maybe get your PI business mentioned again in the local paper. Now you’ve been roped into saving the world with a black ops team and Vigilante.

You both try to regain your composure and stare at each other, catching your breath. He shakes his head, grinning.

Christ, look at him.

“I sometimes wondered if you wouldn’t remove your mask because you were just a bad kisser. I mean, I saw your mugshot so I already knew you were pretty.” You can’t help but tell him. You know the grainy photo on his record like the back of your hand but in person, he’s frankly gorgeous. 

“Thanks, I know.”

You laugh again. “And modest.”

“You think I fund being Vigilante on a busboy salary? I get a lot of tips.”

“It all makes sense now. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Because she didn’t want to wait around for an idiot who wouldn’t even kiss her.”

You stare at each other in the shadowy silence for a few moments. 

“It’s late, we should both get some rest.”

“Wait, don’t go.” His hand touches your thigh and it feels like there’s an electric current buzzing between his hand and the fabric of your jeans. The atmosphere almost crackles, like lighting about to strike in the middle of a storm. It’s the first time he’s touched you since you walked out on him six months ago and never went back. “It’s super late, you should crash at mine.”

“If I come upstairs we both know what’s going to happen.”

He tilts his head and you watch dimples form as the corners of his mouth turn into a mischievous smile. “That’s kind of the idea.”

“A bad one. We need to work together.”

“When has fucking ever stopped us from completing a job?”

“It hasn’t. But when we stopped seeing each other… I was really cut up. I couldn’t concentrate on work for a while. It’s why I needed the reward for the gorilla so badly.”

“Then we just won’t stop this time.”

“Adrian… I’ve only just pulled myself together again. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.”

He removes his hand from your leg to unclip his seatbelt. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Adrian gives you an apologetic look. 

You stare at his lips. They’re just there. His whole face is out in the open. And now his lips, and the rest of him, are about to leave your car and you never know when you’ll see him unmasked again. He opens the car door.

“Wait -”

He turns back around in his seat.

“Let me find out if you’re a bad kisser. At least I can tell myself I’m not missing out on anything if you are.”

“You’re gonna be so mad…” He cups your face and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m a really good kisser.”

You smile and his lips meet yours. 

It’s nothing like you imagined.

When you had sex it always felt urgent, even dangerous, getting into bed with a masked cape who was wanted for murder. More often than not he fucked you from behind, tugged fistfuls of your hair and slapped your ass. 

But his kisses… his kisses are soft and slow. And good.

You’re totally screwed.

He sucks your lip gently and then his tongue traces across yours. You urge yourself forward in the driver’s seat closer to him, bringing your hand up to cradle the nape of his neck and lace your hand in his soft hair.

Warmth spreads in your chest when he deepens the kiss. You secretly hoped he’d be like this when he was unmasked. Your hot and rough encounters were always fun but in your heart you always wanted him to want you like this. Deeply. Reverently. 

You break apart and press your forehead against his with your eyes closed, feeling your heart hammering against your chest.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks.

You open your eyes to see his green ones searching yours from behind his glasses. He lets out a long, happy exhale when he hears your seatbelt unclick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrian’s bedroom is neat, clean, with framed vintage comic books on his walls and illuminated by a lava lamp on his bedside table. Details you remember from previous visits but barely register this time as you both burst through his bedroom door while he kisses you. Refusing to take his hands from your body, he kicks the door shut behind him forgetting about his injured foot. He regrets it immediately.

“Fuck!” He pulls away and winces.

“Careful,” you soothe, shrugging your jacket off onto the floor and he lifts your shirt off. As soon as your skin is uncovered his mouth finds it. He drags his tongue across your collarbones and between your breasts, nudging the cup of your bra aside so he can find your nipple.

His warm mouth feels almost too good to be true as he sucks on the hard, pebbled skin and moves on to taste every inch of your exposed chest, his deft hands unhooking your bra and tossing it aside quickly. 

The entire day could have been a crazy fever dream. You’ve gone from your heart sinking at the very sight of him to it fluttering like crazy as you lie back on his mattress so he can pull your jeans and underwear off.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says, sinking to his knees between your legs at the edge of the bed.

Even though you’re completely naked on his bed while he’s still dressed, you somehow feel less on display than he is right now without his mask. It feels taboo watching his jaw muscles tighten as he works his mouth all over your inner thighs. There’s something so controlled about the way he meticulously kisses the sensitive skin at the crux of your thigh that makes your lip quiver. 

You’ve spent enough time around his quick reflexes to know Vigilante is going to be skilled at eating you out but sometimes, especially in the depths of your despair during your breakup, there was a niggling inkling at the back of your mind that the mask might just be a convenient excuse not to. 

You had suspected, or maybe even hoped, when you hooked up that he had come really, really close to rolling up the bottom half of his mask and tasting you. More than once, you had caught a fleeting glimpse of him at odds with himself, his eyes behind his visor staring at your pussy and his neck muscles contracting as he swallowed thickly, strengthening his resolve and deciding to protect his own identity instead.

But tonight - finally - his tongue slides between your folds and you let out a low whine when the furnace-hot heat of his mouth besets itself over your clit.

Adrian groans when he tastes your arousal flooding his mouth. His hands cup under your ass as he pulls himself closer. You dare yourself to run your hand through his hair again, your fingernails lightly scratching his scalp. It still feels like it shouldn’t be allowed but he doesn’t seem to mind at all as his lips suck on your swollen clit.

“Fuck, Adrian…” His real name still sounds foreign on your lips, like you have to make a conscious effort to say it. 

Adrian looks up at you over his glasses, his pupils wide in the dim violet light of the lava-lamp-lit room. He takes in your glowing face and chest as you lie propped up on your elbows, enjoying the sight of him on the floor between your legs.

His fingers knead the soft, pillowy flesh of your ass like he doesn’t want to let you go anywhere ever again. And you don’t want to. Fuck the mission. Can’t you just stay here forever? In Adrian’s bedroom, panting while his tongue runs firm circles over your clit.

When you roll your hips in encouragement, he lets out a soft little moan sending vibrations over the bundle of nerves - it almost makes you dissolve right there and then. 

“I can’t believe I let you… fuck - let you get away with not doing this before,” you whimper. “So - s’fucking good, V.”

“Adrian,” he says and the tiniest absence of friction when his tongue leaves your clit makes your fingers tighten in his hair, urging him to return to your aching pussy.

“Adrianadrianadrian,” you babble, scared that his lips will leave you again. No more V. No more Vigilante. Just Adrian. Here. Eating your pussy like it’s you who’d been depriving him of this for months on end. Pleasure rises deep in your core like the tide getting ready to crash against the cliff face.

Your brain becomes fuzzy as increasingly desperate noises escape your throat - something strangled between a whine and his name. You squirm against his tongue as he relentlessly continues, determined to draw from you the orgasm that you’ve been desperate for since he kissed you in the car and you realised his mouth would feel like heaven.

The pressure of his tongue against your soaking wet pussy makes you writhe in exhilaration. You barely notice his fingers digging harder into your skin as you arch your spine and throw your head back.

Your thigh muscles tense and relax, trembling on either side of his face. “Adrian, I’m gonna - gonna cum…”

Instead of responding, he sinks two fingers deep inside your cunt, giving you something to squeeze around as every muscle in your pelvis tightens. He curls his fingers slightly and it’s just enough to push you over the fucking edge.

The purplish glow of the room turns blinding white as waves, hot and wet, break over you and your body floods with ecstasy. Your whole lower body stiffens as your walls clench around his fingers and you grind your pussy against his mouth.

Fuck, you’ve been missing out. You haven’t been with anyone else the entire time you’ve been apart and it’s like your body has been crying for exactly this moment without you realising how much you needed it. Needed his mouth on you.

The room comes into focus again gradually as Adrian gives you a last few slow, gentle kisses before sliding his fingers out of your still-twitching centre.

You breathe heavily and look at him kneeling on the floor.

He looks stupidly pleased with himself, the corner of his wet, glistening mouth upturned in a self-congratulatory smile at the way he’s taken you apart piece by piece. You can’t help but giggle from endorphins buzzing through your body. It makes your abdomen hurt from all the tensing you were doing. 

Adrian slaps the side of your ass and gets to his feet, undoing his belt buckle. “C’mon, bend over,” he grins.

You sit up, shake your head and smile. “Nuh-uh, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum.” He blinks a couple of times dazedly. “Did you forget about your mask for a second?”

Adrian clears his throat. “Uh...No?”

He so did.

“C’mere.” You hook your fingers through his belt loops and pull him closer. You kiss the light trail of hair covering his hard abdomen while your fingers work to undo his jeans and pull them down to release him from the confines of his boxers.

God, you missed it. He has a pretty face alright but his cock is fucking perfect.

Your cheeks grow hot feeling him so close. You grip his hard length and draw your tongue across the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum. 

“Take your top off,” you say, looking up at him before running your tongue along his shaft, keeping eye contact.

He grips the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it off over his head. Seeing him in the purple glow, every contour of his sculpted abdomen illuminated sends burning heat to your pelvis. You never thought you were into muscular guys, not until you saw Vigilante take his suit off for the first time. Now you’re not sure if you could go back to anything else. Anyone else. 

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock but he interrupts you.

“I need to fuck you. Please.”

At this point, you’re so turned on it’s an offer you can’t refuse. You release him and scoot back on the bed. He goes to crawl on top of you but flinches when his injured foot meets the mattress.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to - ah fuck.”

“It’s okay. Here, lie down. Let me go on top.”

He does so with relief and you swing your leg over his thighs.

“Better?” 

“Fuck yeah,” he says, looking at your naked figure sitting on top of him.

You reach into his bedside drawer where you know he keeps his condoms. Your fingers skirt over what you suspect are bags of candy until you find the corrugated square shape you’re looking for. You take it out and roll the condom on him.

“Okay, easy,” you say, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. He throbs under the grip of your hand in anticipation. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

“You were totally cool with me over-exerting myself on the floor a second ago.”

“I was talking to myself,” you smirk. “It’s been a while.”

You ease yourself down onto his cock, feeling the beautiful stretch as you adjust to his size. 

“Shit…” he breathes, clamping his hands down hard on your hips, forcing you to bottom out. His eyebrows knit together and he sighs through parted lips, feeling the way your walls stretch around him. He looks so beautiful - you can’t stop looking at his lips.

You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his head so you can lean down and kiss him. The taste of your juices registers on your tongue as his enters your mouth. You deepen the kiss and Adrian responds by jerking his hips up needily, pressing into your g-spot.

You moan and suck on his bottom lip, gently rolling it between your teeth as he pushes into the most sensitive part of your centre. Searing heat burns low in your belly, spreading to your thighs. You push yourself back up to ride him and grab his wrists, dragging them from your waist to grope at your chest.

“Fuck, you look so hot riding my dick.”

“Yeah? Rose-tinted visor isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”

You’re teasing him but it seems to spur him on, as he squeezes your tits and jerks up into your bouncing hips. Every wet slap that meets your ears only increases your neediness for him. It burns brightly in your core, making you wetter and even more desperate for your next orgasm.

Every roll of your body sends his cock plunging into you, pushing against you at the perfect angle. God, he feels incredible. Your walls start to convulse around him, clamping down and gripping his cock as your second climax rears its head.

“Adrian, fuck, I’m close…” you plead, frantically chasing your high, wildly gyrating and bouncing in time with his thrusts.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“No, say my name,” he says, through gritted teeth, his neck muscles tightening in the soft light. 

His neck.

“Fuck, Adrian.” You lunge forward and bite on his neck. He grabs handfuls of your ass, anchoring himself into you as he thrusts savagely upwards sending pleasure rocketing through you. Fuck he’s deep. So fucking deep.

His name leaves your lips over and over, broken and ragged as every jerk of his hip knocks the air out of your lungs. Bliss ignites and your cry of pleasure is muffled as you moan and run your tongue over his neck, smelling his aftershave mixed with his musky sweat. An explosion, more fierce than any grenade blast bursts through your centre as he pummels his cock with unparalleled force and precision, even as you squirm and shake, unable to keep moving your own hips in time with his.

With every ounce of strength you have you lean up on your arms to look at his face. His eyes are squeezed shut and his facial muscles contort as he sucks through his teeth.

“Cum for me, Adrian,” you murmur sweetly in his ear and he opens his eyes, giving you a terminally helpless look as he slams his hips into your hot, wet cunt and you squeeze around him as tight as you can. With a final thrust, you feel his thighs tighten and his cock pulsing inside you as he cums.

You flatten your body back on top of his - the warm, damp sweat between your chests feels strangely pleasant. His fingers trace circles up your spine, gently tickling your back. Adrian turns his head to kiss you and you both lie for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours.

After what feels like a long time of lying in quiet elation, you make yourself climb carefully off of him and roll over, resting back on his pillows.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he says and you lie back watching him dispose of the condom, taking care not to put any pressure on his bandaged toe. He launches himself back on the bed with a thud making you bounce on the mattress. “Good, you’re still here,” he says, leaning on his elbow and looking down at you.

“Where else would I be?” you laugh.

“Well… you usually leave right after. Except that one time I accidentally bought peanut M&Ms.”

You look at him apologetically. In fairness, the mask was hardly an invitation to spend the night - what was he going to do? Sleep in it? “Do you have peanut M&Ms?”

He nods to his bedside drawer and you open it to see that it’s stuffed with the little yellow bags.

“You like peanut M&Ms now?”

He pulls a face. “No way dude, they’re so gross.”

“Then why…?”

“I guess I always hoped you might change your mind and come back. So I bought them whenever I thought about you.”

You look at the drawer - there’s practically enough that Adrian could have made a trail of peanut M&Ms from your apartment across town to his. “You would have made a really sweet boyfriend,” you sigh.

“Well, I mean… I still could,” he says in a would-be nonchalant type of way, pushing up his glasses with his finger and avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah?” You weren’t sure if he’d be open to picking up where you left off. But it feels right when it didn’t before. Now you know him. Really know him. 

He pulls his eyes up and meets your gaze with a smile. “If you want me to?”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

“Sweet,” he says with a wide smile, not bothering to hide how giddy he is.

You open the packet. “For the record, I’m not just staying because of the M&Ms this time.”

“I know.”

“And I’m glad you’re on the team.”

He nods happily, watching you pop a few into your mouth. “Hashtag me too.”

[phantomram-b00]

So- did the poll. And wow. Was not expecting 30 votes 0.0 or really for it to get votes at all, so wow just wow! I know I haven’t been posting like much, frankly the past couple of weeks have been, not the best without revealing much, and even now, I’m struggling. I’m slowly getting better so no need to worry. So imma split my response of the polls in two. (For those asking “phantom why did you take long?” I was 1) busy I’m going on vacation. 2) I was trying to figure out what to say. Sorry if it toke so long)

But before I do any of that, let me make 3 things clear, 1) please go to your reps for ceasefire/ go help support Palestine with what they offer the best you can. Your/all our help can make a difference and we must help them out the best you can. 2) I know there’ve been misinformations, I’ve been seeing some so please before you or anyone tries to speak out please do proper research before posting. 3) please do not use what is happening as an excuse to spread antisemitism or to be antisemitic, that’s gross. Do not do that. And if you try to be on this blog, I will block you. As it said on my rules If you are going to be an asshole, kindly dni. I do not tolerate bigotry or hatred on here.

Now then, let me say two things about the responses.

For those who’ve said no, I understand completely and you’re valid. If you do not feel comfortable with me talking about good omens because of Neil’s stance. You’re welcome to not interact or not follow or ignore my post. Just all I ask, is please do not attack Neil Gaiman, I should’ve said this on my poll and I apologize for not doing so, but regardless of his stance, do not attack or harass him. Please and thank you.

For those who’ve said yes (which was the majority): well- wow, I honestly wasn’t expecting you guys to say yes :,). I love talking about this show, and I know I’ve seen two people who told me to separate the art from the artist, while I do understand and I’ll do so, I just wanted to hear the voices first before I make any decisions. As at the end of the day, voices do matter. So with that, as my good omens hyperfixation is not going away anytime soon, I will continue to talk about it. I love this show. And I do have ideas on what to post and drawing, so stay tone. Again, I was not expecting the majority to say yes, especially since I never would’ve thought people would still want me to talk about good omens. But for those who’ve said yes, thanks. But what I will say for you guys, please go help out and spread awareness about what’s going on in the Middle East (with proper research of course) and please help out. And again and I cannot stress this enough, please do not attack/harass Neil Gaiman and do not be antisemitic or even spread antisemitism.

With that being said, I do hope you guys are doing good, hope y’all drink water and hopefully you guys are having an amazing day. If not, I’m sorry and it okay because me neither, so I hope other days get better. *gives you mozzarella sticks to hope to feel better*. If you ever wanted to ask a question regarding good omens or anything you can on the ask me anything or you can comment, with that being said, I need to go to bed.

Also yes. The confirmation that Aziraphale face meant “do it again” made me boo-hoo cry. Jesus, my heart breaks for him. Oh how I relate to this character. (I might make a post about it.)

[scenefox2003]

No, Camila is not a good mother. And here’s why.

Yes, this sounds like a very harsh statement, but hear me out. Camila, on the surface, seems like a decent and loving mother, especially when compared to say, the Blights, who are much more obviously and stereotypically terrible. But from the very beginning she displays some VERY toxic and harmful behaviors towards her daughter Luz. Her sort of parenting, even though she has good intentions, can do some horrifying and long lasting damage to the mental health and self esteem of a child. How do I know? My mother was exactly like Camila. And like Luz, I still loved her. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t do some serious harm. And those same things are happening to Luz right now.

First up, let’s state the obvious. Luz is neurodivergent. This isn’t even just coding, either. Dana Terrace has outright stated this is her intention. And like many neurodivergent kids and teens, she often gets in trouble in school without realizing why. The things she does are still bad, of course, and she still needs to face the consequences of her actions and learn why they’re not okay. The first two things she does (going a bit too far in the school play and doing that freaky eye thing at cheer tryouts) aren’t even that bad, but her bringing spiders, snakes, and fireworks to school are obviously huge issues. Those last three are obviously cartoonishly crazy acts that have been played up by the writers for humor and to get the idea across, but even if we take this all at face value Camila’s handling of the situation is STILL HORRIBLE. Notice what she criticizes here. Not the fact that her daughter brought dangerous animals and explosives to school, but her love of fantasy. Yes, they’re related, but Luz’s love of fantasy can still exist without her breaking school rules. Not only that, but taking Luz’s neurodivergency into account here, The Good Witch Azura and other fantasy tales are clearly a special interest or hyperfixation of hers. Her love of Azura goes much farther than that of a normal neurotypical fangirl, she uses this character to help navigate through her life. She chooses to stay on the boiling aisles because Eda and King remind her of characters from the book. She chooses to take the risk and try to befriend her rival, Amity, because that’s what Azura did. Even in season two, when she’s talking about her future, she states Eda and Azura as her role models. Not to infantilize Luz (trust me, that’s the last thing I want to do) but this level of connection to a fictional character is unusual for a fourteen year old who just really likes something. Luz clearly uses this character as guidance in a world she doesn’t understand (which funny enough, is both the boiling aisles and earth) and what does Camila do?

She forces her to LITERALLY throw it away. Right before she has to go to a scary and uncomfortable place for THREE MONTHS, that SHE FORCED HER TO GO TO. That’s the time when Luz would need that special interest the most. It isn’t just a book she loves. It’s a coping mechanism, a genuinely harmless and positive part of her life, that she is shamed for. Being shamed for an interest or hyperfixation is such a terrible feeling I can’t even begin to describe it. But if you’re neurodivergent, you know what I’m talking about. What makes it even worse is that Luz literally cannot control what she loves. She can’t just find a new hobby, not that she should even have to, because when you have a special interest or hyperfixation, that thing becomes such a huge part of your life. And most of the time, it’s such an amazing and wonderful thing. And for Luz, it clearly is. Azura LITERALLY LED HER TO FORMING THE STRONGEST RELATIONSHIPS IN HER LIFE, with Eda, King, and Amity. That’s huge, considering Luz clearly has a lot of trouble forming friendships back in the human world. Luz’s love of fantasy is not a problem. Her “weirdness” is not a problem. But that’s what Camila sends her to camp for. To change her interests, her personality, not her actions. That, and for something even worse.

This line hurts my soul. I don’t even have to explain why this is an awful thing for a mother to say to her daughter, it speaks for itself. But I’m gonna explain anyway. Luz doesn’t have any friends. But that’s clearly not her fault. Just look at what happens when she goes to the boiling aisles and FINALLY meets like minded people. She makes tons of friends without changing at all, because Luz is a genuinely good person with a great personality. She’s kind, excitable, and always eager to help others. This is INCLUDED with her “weirdness”, and often directly related to it. Luz is not the only weird person that exists, even in the human world. I had pretty much no close friends as a kid, then I switched to a school full of open minded (and many queer and neurodivergent) people, and now I have TONS of friends who are just like me, who like the same things, that I didn’t have to change myself at all for. This is how real healthy friendships work. And the sad thing is, Luz wouldn’t even HAVE to go to the boiling aisles for this to happen! If Camila really wanted Luz to make friends, all she would have to do is send her to some sort of fantasy or roleplaying camp full of people like her who share her interests. But instead of blaming the judgy bullies for why Luz doesn’t have any friends, she blames Luz for just. Being herself and liking some unconventional stuff. This is so, SO disgusting and harmful. It can lead to so many problems, destroy yourself esteem, and ironically enough it makes it HARDER TO MAKE FRIENDS. Forcing yourself to be someone else to make someone you’re not really compatible with like you just doesn’t work. Believe me, I’ve tried. This is LITERALLY HAPPENING TO LUZ RIGHT NOW. IN THE MOST RECENT EPISODE SHE NEARLY RUINED HER CHANCE WITH AMITY BECAUSE PEOPLE HAD MADE HER FEEL WEIRD ABOUT HER INTERESTS AND PERSONALITY IN THE PAST. That’s why I’m making this post, even though I’ve thought this for a long time. The damage the human world has done to Luz is starting to show. Even after all these months of being loved for being herself and proudly being an advocate for being weird, that instinct is still there. And it lasts. For years. I’m eighteen years old, I’ve been in a supportive environment for six years now, and my parents have been fully supportive of me and my interests and quirks for two. But that instinct doesn’t go away. The deep rooted shame whenever you do something harmless that’s outside the norm, something you were directly told not to by the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally doesn’t go away. And Camila, the only person Luz truly cares about, perpetuated that. And that’s truly awful. I get it. Parents aren’t always perfect. But this is beyond imperfect. It reminds me of a line from Gwendolyn in Keeping Up A-fear-ances. “Your curse is a part of you, and I love every part of you.” Camila clearly loves Luz, but she doesn’t love every part of Luz. And in order to truly love someone, you must fully love them, quirks and all. I hope we get to see Camila learn this before the show ends, but most of all I hope that the show openly states that her parenting is awful. It could save so many kids from so many years of pain and an inferiority complex.

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 7

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, pining, Din in suspenders, fluff Summary: Din takes a job with his old crew, and you and the kid wait for him on Arvala-7. Notes: Sorry this took me forever!

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After you left the atmosphere of Tatooine and jumped into hyperspace, Din swiveled his chair around to face you in the copilot’s seat.

“I should take a job. Everything we made went to Peli, and I don’t like being low on credits. There’s a crew I used to run with...I can reach out to them...” he hesitated then added, “but you and the kid can’t come with me.”

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping. “I mean, I don’t trust them enough for you and the kid to come.”

“If you don’t trust them, wouldn’t it be better to have backup?”

“I just—,” he looked away, “I don’t want them to know either of you exist.”

“If you don’t trust them, should you be taking a job with them?”

“We don’t have a lot of options.”

“I could get work somewhere. We could go somewhere safe enough for a few weeks. There are some places where I have contacts, and non-bounty hunting work is usually less conspicuous.”

“I don’t think we should stay anywhere that long right now.”

“But—”

“I’ll feel better if you and the kid are safe together.”

“I—”

When he bowed his head in a silent appeal, your determination crumbled.

“Ugh, fine.”

He sighed in relief, reaching out to rest his hand on your knee briefly. His touch was reassuring.

“But, just so you know, this is only going to work once, so don’t think that my staying back with the kid is going to be a regular thing.”

He removed his hand and turned back around to face the viewport.

“I am taking your silence as tacit agreement,” you said to the back of his helmet.

He chose to ignore that, fiddling with the controls instead.

***

Now that you’d both admitted you wanted to stay together, abandoning the pretense of strategy and convenience all together, things were a little off between you and Din. Neither of you were used to being vulnerable, so conversations were slightly stunted again. You found yourself being overly polite, and Din was doing the same.

That first night back on the Crest, he offered you his bunk.

“I’m not taking your bed. You need it to take off your helmet.”

Besides the unshakable lingering chill of the hull, sleeping there wasn’t that bad. You usually slept with every sweater you owned on and that kept you warm enough.

“Use it when I’m not. You shouldn't have to sleep on the floor.”

“Sure, thanks,” you agreed, knowing you’d never take him up on that. You didn’t want to be on a different sleep schedule than he and the kid.

You did try to nap with the kid in Din’s bunk the next day because there wasn’t all that much to do in hyperspace. As soon as you lay down, though, you knew it was a mistake. First of all, it was crazy uncomfortable (somehow not better than the literal floor and the close walls made it slightly claustrophobic), and second—and far more importantly—it smelled overwhelmingly like Din. It smelled like his pine-y soap and beskar and blaster residue and leather and whatever else made up his infuriatingly good scent. It conjured images of crackling fires and golden skin and warm embraces and taut muscles.

Shit.

There was no chance you were going to be able to fall sleep when all you could think about was him.

The kid, on the other hand, was snoozing contentedly beside you. When you’d fully given up on napping, you edged your way out the bunk carefully, doing your best not to wake him.

Din was sitting in the hull on a long crate against the wall, cleaning his blaster, the pieces spread out next to him. Usually, when you were in the hull at the same time, you’d find a place across from him. Instead, you purposefully sat next to him, drawing your knees up to your chest and leaning against the wall.

You decided you were going to push through this awkward phase and make things not weird right there, right then. And you were going to do that the best way you knew how.

He tilted his helmet toward you momentarily then refocused on the blaster in his hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” he said, running a rag along the barrel.

“How does one develop a catchphrase? Does it happen organically or is there an iterative brainstorming process?”

Din paused, sighing dramatically, set his blaster and the rag down next to him, and pushed himself back until he was also leaning against the metal wall. His helmet clunked slightly as he relaxed it back. “This is the way is not a catchphrase. It’s a tenet of the Creed.”

“And ‘I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold’ is also a tenet of the Creed?”

He lolled his helmet to the side, looking down at you. “Okay, fine, that one isn’t,” he conceded.

“So you admit it—you have at least one catchphrase that you regularly use on bounties.” You smirked up at him.

Without missing a beat, Din fixed you with that unreadable visor and quipped: “I’ve been told I have a sexy voice. I’m just giving the people what they want.”

Your jaw dropped, a shocked laugh echoing through the hull. You had planned on teasing him and had not expected him to turn it around on you so smoothly.

“Uh... I was sort of hoping we’d stick to our unspoken agreement to not bring up the stupid things I said when I was drunk.” You looked down at your hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, definitely not.”

You looked back up. “Alright, well then in the name of fairness, we’re going to have to get you really drunk the next time the opportunity presents itself, so we can see what embarrassing things you say.”

He paused for a moment, considering, then said, “Does that mean you’ll carry me home?”

You cracked a smile, nodding vigorously. “Of course. That would only be fair.”

A warm laugh rasped through the modulator. You crossed your ankles in front of you, letting your knee rest against the cold beskar on this thigh.

“I feel skeptical of that promise.” He dropped a gloved hand to your knee.

“Okay, okay I can’t promise to carry you home, but I can promise to tie your shoe if needed.”

“My boots don’t have laces.” He lifted a foot off the ground to show you.

You shrugged playfully: “Well, that’s not my fault.”

“This doesn’t sound like a very good deal for me. I tied your shoe and carried you home.”

“To be fair, both were against my will.”

“But necessary.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I can’t carry you, and I can’t tie your shoe... so I’ll...,” you bit your lip as you fished around for something else to offer, “...hold your hand? And not let anyone tickle you.”

He huffed and rubbed his thumb over your knee: “I’m not ticklish.”

You pursed your lips. “Right, sure, of course not. My mistake.”

He harrumphed. “Can I ask you something now?”

“I’ll allow it,” you intoned seriously.

“Where are you actually from?”

“Naboo. Most of my back story was true—I just left out the one major detail.”

“Your favorite color?” he deadpanned.

You laughed. “Yes, exactly. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Aq Vetina.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate.

“When my parents died there, I was rescued by the Mandalorians and raised in the Fighting Corps.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. “That sounds like a tough life for a child.”

“It was all I knew,” he explained, shifting slightly.

“Still, that can’t have been easy. It makes sense that you couldn’t leave the kid.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, solemnly. There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“Less serious question,” you replied, changing the subject to something lighter.

“Okay.” He relaxed a little.

“Why don’t you ever use a straw to drink with your helmet on?”

“These are the things you think about?” he laughed. His laugh was usually a quiet, muffled sound through the modulator, but it was getting easier to pick up on it. “There’s a seal on the helmet, otherwise the filters wouldn’t work,” he tapped the release on the side of his head. “So a straw isn’t a possibility, unfortunately.”

“Mmm,” you responded, “that is disappointing.”

He gripped your thigh lightly, turning toward you. “I, uh, heard back about the job... while you were asleep. It’s a go.”

“Ah... great. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t hear back.”

“I know. It will be fine.”

“Okay... So, any ideas for where the kid and I should stay?”

To your surprise, Din explained that he had a trusted friend on Arvala-7. When you agreed to the plan, he disappeared to the cockpit to set the nav—a two-day trip.

***

That same evening, you discovered a new favorite activity on the Crest. Before bed, the kid was being particularly fussy, so you pulled out your data pad and downloaded the first children’s book you could find. It worked liked a charm.

From then on, it became a daily routine: you’d read to him until his eyelids drooped before his nap and before bedtime. Regardless of his mood, listening to you read seemed to soothe him. You’d pull him into your lap and settle onto your stack of blankets against the wall. He’d watch your face, enraptured, as you relayed story after story to him. His favorite—the story that elicited the most chirps and grabby motions and ear wiggles—centered on a family of frogs. You revisited that one at least once a day, sometimes more if he was grouchy.

You weren’t sure how to feel about his hyperfixation on that particular story given his appetite for frogs.

At this rate, your digital library was going to be largely children’s books. You didn’t mind.

You noticed that Din would find something to do in the hull while you read. The first couple times, he sat and cleaned one of his many weapons or sewed a hole in his flight suit. Very quickly, he stopped bothering with an ostensible task and would just sit and listen.

When you were still 15 hours out from Arvala-7, Din was seated on his usual crate in the hull, the one next to the weapons cabinet, as you finished the final page of a particularly thrilling story about a snail. The kid was snoring softly in your arms, so you clicked off your datapad, and got up to settle him in his hammock for his mid-day nap.

“You’re good with him.” Din was leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I guess,” you shrugged, snapping the door to Din’s bunk shut and turning back to him. “I just think about what I liked as a kid. I loved when my parents would read to me.”

He nodded, helmet trained on the floor between his boots.

“I’m sorry—” you started, realizing how that must have sounded to Din.

He looked up and cut you off. “Don’t be. It’s nice for him to have some normal kid experiences.”

“You know what he’d really love?”

“What?”

“If you read to him.”

He dipped his helmet slightly in acknowledgement, rolling his shoulders back at the same time like he was uncomfortable agreeing with that.

Several hours later, you pulled Din down next to you in your normal pre-bedtime story time spot. He had the kid in his arms. You switched on your datapad and toggled through the catalog of books you’d downloaded, all of which had colorful covers and silly, whimsical titles, until you found the frog book.

“Here,” you offered, passing it over to him.

You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, listening to Din’s serious, even voice narrate the heartwarming hijinks of a family of frogs. The kid cooed and babbled along.

To your (and the kid’s) utter delight, Din’s rendition slowly evolved into a full-on dramatic reading, complete with sound effects and slightly different voices for each character, as he leaned into whatever prompted the most enthusiastic responses from the kid. You kept your eyes closed and said nothing, worried that if you drew attention to this new development, he’d get self-conscious and stop. You couldn’t help from smiling a little though.

When the story came to its conclusion, you opened your eyes. Din was scrolling through the library of options, browsing for the next book. “What do you think? Which one next?” You looked at him, but he wasn’t asking you. The kid let out a string of gibberish, pointing with a teeny finger. Din read out the titles of several options, selecting the one that triggered the most animated trill.

As Din began the story, he shifted until his body was flush with yours. The places where his beskar made contact with you were cold, even through the fabric of your clothes, but you didn’t mind.

By the time Din finished the second book, the kid was displaying the telltale signs—drooping ears and unfocused eyes—that bedtime had arrived.

Din handed you the datapad and stood to tuck the kid into bed.

As he shut the door to his bunk, you said, “I think you just put me out of a job.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he was pleased.

***

As you got more comfortable around each other, Din took to walking around without his armor—beside his helmet—on. Most of the time, he’d even leave his gloves off. He wore either a flight suit that zipped up the middle or a black shirt and pants...with suspenders. The first few times, it was jarring to see him like that, without his armor. He looked wrong. It was like seeing a turtle without its shell... but if turtles were sexy.

The first time he emerged from his bunk with the suspenders hanging loosely by his sides, you stopped dead, mouth hanging open. He tilted his helmet sharply at you: “What?”

“You sometimes wear suspenders under your armor?”

“...Yes?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you and the goofy grin that spread across your face.

“What?” he prompted again, shoulders pulling up toward his neck.

“I just really wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed.

“What were you expecting?” The playful note in his voice left you flustered. He took a step closer, much more relaxed now that he was the one doing the teasing. He was getting too good at flipping things on you.

Instead of answering—because you were not about to address the fact that you had absolutely thought about what he wore under his armor—you strode up to him and pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. He stood uncomfortably still, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides.

“What are you doing?” He looked down at his shirt then back up at you.

“I just want to get the full picture.” You looked him up and down.

“Thought about this a lot, have you?” He quirked his helmet down at you suggestively. It was only the second time you’d gotten that particular flavor of head tilt, and you...didn’t hate it. It made your neck feel hot. You disregarded the intense desire to grab him by the suspenders and jerk him toward you.

Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him, enjoying this new bold flirtation. Without looking away from his visor, you hooked a finger through one of the suspenders and pulled it out a couple inches, letting it snap back against him.

“Ow.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that it obviously hadn’t hurt, but for dramatic effect, he rubbed the spot on his chest where it hit him.

“You’ll survive,” you assured him, patting his shoulder and brushing past him to climb the ladder to the cockpit. When you sat down in the pilot’s seat and kicked your feet up to rest on the console, you still had a smile on your face.

***

A few hours later, you were seated in the copilot seat with the child held tightly in your lap as the Razor Crest descended through the atmosphere of Arvala-7. On the way, Din shared how he’d met this friend—he had helped Din when he was originally tracking down the child months ago.

However, when you asked what his friend’s name was, Din said he didn’t know. Honestly, you weren’t even that surprised. Just exasperated.

Din told you the details of when he tracked down the child, including the assassin droid he'd crossed paths with. He explained how he’d teamed up with IG-11, but in the end, he had to destroy the droid to protect the kid. The anger in his voice was raw when he described watching IG-11 point his blaster at the child.

As the dusty, cracked surface of the planet came into view, you asked, “Is that what caused your thing with droids?”

“What thing?”

“Din.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Droids destroyed my home planet, killed my parents. They’re the reason I was a foundling as a child.”

His words washed over you, and your heart dropped. You leaned forward in your seat to put a hand on his shoulder. He stayed perfectly still, helmet trained on the controls in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded stiffly and reached up to squeeze your hand briefly.

“We’re about to land.”

You took that as a cue to drop the subject for now.

***

You and Din, the kid in his arms, approached a small collection of low structures. You swept your eyes across the uniform landscape—all was dry and sienna and flat. The Ugnaught’s homestead was the only sign of habitation in sight. The buildings were brown and domed, and windmills creaked slowly in the warm breeze. Three blurrgs in a large corral watched you balefully.

“Mandalorian!” the Ugnaught greeted, emerging from the door of his low home.

“Ugnaught,” Din replied with a nod.

“I did not think I would see you here again. What business brings you back to Arvala-7?”

“I was hoping that my friends could stay with you for a couple nights—I’ll pay you for the lodging.”

Of course he'd refer to me and a literal infant as his "friends."

You introduced yourself, offering your hand.

The Ugnaught bowed his head slightly as he clasped your hand: “It is nice to make your acquaintance. I am Kuill.”

At least Din knows his name now.

Kuill turned back to Din. “The child remains in your care,” he observed.

“Yes,” said Din, offering no explanation. He set the child down on the ground, and he toddled his way slowly over to Kuill.

Kuill scooped up the baby, and he chirruped happily, reaching toward his whiskery mustache.

“It hasn’t grown much.”

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast.”

You shot Din a skeptical look. He’d never shared this particular theory of his with you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” mused Kuill.

You raised your eyebrows at the frankness of his statement. He is not ugly.

“Your friends are welcome to stay with me. No payment will be necessary. I have spoken.” Kuill turned and headed back inside without so much as a backward glance.

“I insist,” Din said to his back.

Kuill disappeared into his home.

Din turned to you: “He does that. Just ends a conversation like that.”

“I understand why the two of you get along so well. Men of few words.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Din nodded, reinforcing your point inadvertently.

You and Din stepped closer to each other at the same time. For the first time, you let the concern you were feeling color your features.

“I’ll be back in three days, if not sooner.”

He was padding his timeline in response to the worry that was etched across your face. You knew Din could defend himself—that wasn’t your fear. It was that, whether he liked to admit it or not, he occasionally let trust blind him. The irony of that wasn’t lost on you, considering how long it had taken for him to trust you. This was the trademark paradox of Din. He was loath to fully let people in, but he had a tendency to take people at face value and assume they would keep their word—because he always kept his word. He had a surprisingly generous worldview for someone with such a violent profession and brutal past.

Din reached down to grab something small that was tucked in his belt—the metal ball from one of the controls in the cockpit that the kid loved to play with. He occasionally pretended to be irritated whenever he wanted to play with it, but you knew he found it endearing.

He handed it to you. “He’ll want that.”

You smiled and nodded, looking at the sphere in your palm. Din raised a hand to your chin and tilted your face back up to his.

Do we... hug? He doesn’t seem like a hugger.

So instead, you offered, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” he promised. He stayed there for a moment longer, looking at you and rubbing his thumb along your cheek. Before you could decide if you should also try to hug him, he turned abruptly to walk back to the Crest.

You stayed and watched him as he walked the distance back to the ship and disappeared up the ramp. You stayed and watched as the Razor Crest rumbled to life and took off. You stayed and watched as it ascended through the atmosphere and vanished from view.

***

It was a relief to be off the ship for a few days—even if Arvala-7 wasn’t exactly your ideal planet. It would be a treat to eat real food, instead of shelf-stable ration packs, and to have more than the limited space of the ship to move around in... not to mention an actual bed.

Kuill was a kind and welcoming host. He offered you his spare room, where you placed your things, and you sat down for tea together in his small kitchen.

“How did you come to be in the company of the Mandalorian and the child?”

“I guess he has a soft spot for people who are wanted by the Empire?” you chuckled, and Kuill nodded somberly. “Now, we’re just helping each other out.” You weren’t really sure how else to explain it.

Kuill didn’t press you anymore than that, nodding sagely. Instead, while you sipped your tea with the kid on your lap, he told you about his background—decades of indentured servitude to the Empire before he worked off his debt and bought his freedom—in the solemn, frugal way that was clearly characteristic of the Ugnaught. You understood why Din trusted him: he was forthright, calm, wise.

“What can I help you with while I’m here?” you asked, already anxious to find something to occupy your time.

“You are my guest. You do not need to do any work.”

“I would be happy to,” you insisted. “I would rather be busy. I can help with cleaning or repairs—whatever you need. My formal training was in programming, but I’ve picked up general skills along the way.”

Kuill nodded and said, “Come.”

He turned and walked out of his house. You set down your tea on the table and followed him, the child tucked in the crook of your elbow, happily clutching the silver ball. Kuill stopped in front of the workstation that was a short distance from his doorway. Tools and wiring and various speeder parts were arranged on and around a long workbench and a collection of smaller tables and shelves. The circular backdrop of the workbench was the repurposed window of a TIE fighter.

An assassin droid was laid across the tabletop.

“Is this the droid that Mando shot?”

“I believe so, yes. It was left behind, in the Mandalorian’s wake of destruction. I found it lying where it fell—devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remains of its neural harness. Reconstruction will be quite difficult.”

“What are your plans for it?”

“To convert it from an assassin droid to something more useful: a protocol and nurse droid.”

You nodded. “Handy.”

“I will have to reconstruct the neural harness, and then it will have to relearn every function from scratch. It will be a blank slate on which to program something nurturing instead of destructive. You may help me restore him if you would like.”

“Of course.”

The two of you got to work.

***

That night, when you lay down to sleep, you tossed and turned. The child was snuggled in a makeshift crib next to your bed. You found yourself sitting up periodically to check on him. Every time you checked on him, he was sleeping soundly.

Eventually, you slipped out of your bed, tiptoed quietly through the house, and walked out into the cold, clear night. You walked aimlessly for a while, circling the corral of blurrgs. They were asleep, eyes shut tight, standing in a close clump. Then you turned to head out across the open plain and watch the stars through the thin veil of clouds that dusted the sky.

You were starting to regret that you hadn’t pushed harder to go with Din. He was with a whole team of people who sounded untrustworthy at best, malicious at worst. You couldn’t help but think of all the things you should have said to him before he left. You hadn’t even hugged him.

It was freaking you out a little just how attached you were to a man who you’d known for a couple months.

You walked until the chill of the night air became too much, then turned back.

In the morning, you sat at Kuill’s kitchen table again, feeding the child. Kuill moved around the small food prep area, pulling together breakfast and making tea.

You followed Kuill as he went about his daily jobs, caring for the blurrgs, doing routine maintenance, and continuing the work on IG-11.

You were sweating in the sun, hands covered in grease, concentrating on refitting a damaged arm joint when Kuill’s calm voice brought you out of your train of thought.

“It is curious that the Mandalorian elected to keep the child.”

You looked up at him. “He secretly has a soft heart,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Yes, that much is clear, but he is also set in his beliefs, and this choice went against the Guild Code. What is curious is that such a small being could inspire a change of heart in such a rigid person.”

You considered his words.

“I... think he was just waiting to find a greater purpose than hunting, to find someone to love, you know? It comes naturally to him, but I don’t think he’d ever had the chance.”

Kuill hummed thoughtfully. “Is that not what we are all doing—looking for a greater purpose?”

“I guess?” You shrugged.

“And have you?”

“Have I what?” you asked, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead.

“Have you found the greater purpose you were looking for?”

You considered for a moment then said, “Well... I found a purpose a long time ago, when I joined the Alliance, and since then, I’ve been too busy trying to escape the wrath of the Empire to really think about what’s next in the larger sense... Staying alive has been the main priority.”

Kuill hummed again, glancing over at the kid. “You weren’t looking for something greater, but it appears to have found you.”

“I...,” you started. You watched the child, who was siting on the hard ground admiring the silver ball clutched in his hand. “I’m not sure.”

“I have spoken,” said Kuill, bowing his head, and he lapsed back into silence.

You watched the kid as he dropped the ball and staggered to his feet, squealing excitedly as he chased a lizard that darted past him. You wondered where Din was at this exact moment, and your heart squeezed in a familiar way.

***

The second night was much like the first. You walked outside for some time, thinking of all the awful things that could be happening to Din.

What if they turn on him?

What if another hunter finds him?

What if he doesn’t come back?

It wasn't a crazy thought. You were used to people not coming back.

Until that moment, you hadn't considered that you'd be the sole guardian of the kid if Din didn't return. For a split second, you felt the crushing weight of responsibility for the life and safety and happiness of the tiny green child that Din must feel at all times.

Eventually you fell into a fitful sleep, waking early, and the day dawned bright and cold. As the sun climbed, the chill rapidly dissipated, making way for a dry heat that seemed to be the only weather condition on Arvala-7.

You spent the morning helping Kuill continue the repairs on IG-11. You did your best to not count the hours that slipped by. He’d said it could take three days, so there was no reason to be concerned yet.

But... did he mean he would return ON the third day? Or the fourth day?

And for that matter... did the day he left count as day one? Or was yesterday day one?

Did he mean seventy-two hours from the time he left? Or that he’d be back at the start of the third day?

How did I not clarify this before he left??

That evening, you were in deep in discussion about artificial intelligence when Kuill said, “I believe your Mandalorian has returned to you.” He pointed behind you, and you whipped around to see the Crest touching down in a cloud of dust in the distance.

“Will you—?” you asked, turning back to Kuill.

“I will watch the child.” He seemed vaguely amused by your enthusiasm.

You sprang to your feet and walked as fast as you could toward the Crest. You briefly considered running, but that felt dramatic. He’d only been gone a couple days.

Why did he land so fucking far away?

You’d made it about half the distance when the ramp of the Crest finally began to lower with a hiss. Your resolve snapped, and you started to jog. Din descended the ramp, and you were so relieved to see him that you weren’t even embarrassed anymore that you were literally running to him.

Din cocked his head—a curious head tilt—when he saw you sprinting at him across the dusty ground. He paused at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you—?” he started to say as you crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. He barely budged upon impact.

His shoulders relaxed immediately, and he pulled you tight against him.

Well, if he wasn’t a hugger before, he is now.

“I’m okay,” he reassured you.

“Good,” you said into the fabric bunched around his neck.

After a moment, you released him and stepped back, the steadying weight of his hands remaining on your arms. He looked like he was in one piece, but the slight heaviness in his shoulders told you that the job had taken a toll on him.

“I, uh, missed you too,” he said, a little awkwardly.

You smiled at him and took his gloved hand in yours to walk back towards Kuill’s home. You felt slightly giddy that you were casually holding the Mandalorian’s hand. He seemed taken by it too, his helmet tilted down to where your fingers were intertwined.

“The kid?” he asked, looking up to your face.

“He’s good. Misses you, I think. Ate several frogs. And one lizard. The usual. He is disgusting,” you laughed.

Din made a sound that you would almost swear was a snort. “Yeah, he is,” he agreed fondly.

Kuill was waiting outside his home, the child in his arms. When you and Din were close, Kuill set him down, and the baby tottered over to wrap his tiny arms around Din’s calf.

You watched as Din bent stiffly, slowly to pick up the kid.

“You’re hurt,” you realized.

“I'm fine,” he said.

You felt sure that wasn’t true, but you let it be for the moment.

“Thank you,” Din addressed Kuill. He reached into the pouch of his belt for credits.

“I will not accept payment,” Kuill insisted, shaking his head. “In fact, your friend here helped me make great progress on my current project.” Kuill raised his eyebrows at you.

“Very well,” Din acquiesced.

You gathered your things and said your thank yous and goodbyes, returning to the Crest, which—with a jolt—you realized was already starting to feel like home.

***

Chapter 8

***

Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @bookloverfilmoholic @elinedjarin @eury-dice3 @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi @jagi-yaaa @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @tuskens-mando @spideysimpossiblegirl @theflightytemptressadventure @ubri812 @zoemariefit

If you want to be added or removed, let me know!

[outofangband]

I’m reposting this because my first attempt at posting it was full of errors because I wrote it so fast and as I’ve been hyperfixating on Morwen and on these few passages in particular for over a week now I figured I’d clean up this post, add some hopefully more coherent thoughts and repost it! 

I like to joke about this scene from The Children of Húrin, where Brodda rides to Morwen’s home but is deterred from entering due to his fear of her but in all seriousness the night Brodda rides to the house was probably an extremely intense moment for Morwen herself! And I wish we had more about what was going through her mind, what she saw then. 

non detailed mentions of violence and child death (all hypothetical)

“Morwen (Brodda) had seen once when he rode to her house on a foray; but a great dread of her had seized him. He thought that he had looked into the fell eyes of (an elf) and was filled with a great fear lest some evil should overtake him. And he did not ransack her house nor discover Túrin else the life of the true heir would have been short.” (”The Departure of Túrin”, The Children of Húrin)

The last line is particularly chilling, making it clear that had Brodda entered the home and found Túrin he would have killed him. Morwen fears that her son would have been taken as a thrall a few pages later but I wonder if she knew that at least on that foray, had Túrin been found he would have been slain. What would have happened then to Morwen (assuming she wasn’t killed first or in an attempt to protect Túrin) is unknown. 

The text’s phrasing makes it sound like Brodda saw Morwen directly, looked into her eyes. I just...I want a better image of this scene, where she was standing, what she was thinking, if she had any warning or time to plan ahead of time. 

In the event of that foray taking place, Morwen has very few good options. 

She can hide Túrin and hope he stays hidden and doesn’t try to come to her aid but what if something happens to her? How will he know what to do? Who will protect him then? And that’s if Brodda doesn’t search the house and find him 

 She knows the basics of using a blade and there are a number of items she could use to cause harm but it’s difficult in her condition, pregnant and weakened from lack of adequate food and if she fails she knows risks an even more violent retaliation upon her and/or Túrin. Even if it was just her, she has her unborn child to worry for too.

They cannot flee. They could easily be hunted down. There’s nowhere to go in a hurry, she can’t travel and there’s not enough time to get Túrin out by himself. 

 She cannot freeze. She’s seen what happens when people freeze. She thinks about the promise she made to Húrin to guard what was left in her keeping. 

She will not attempt to bargain or plead. She’s proud and the idea is vile yes but even that aside she’s not particularly diplomatic and she has nothing to offer. 

I am so curious to know what Morwen thought of the invaders’ fear of her. I doubt very much she was much comforted by it or thought it could protect her, let alone her children, for long.

And finally I just think about the utter contempt in their voices as the label her witchwife and worse and how precarious her position is. 

Because there’s something darker too. The way Morgoth’s human allies view Morwen is dehumanizing and the element of the Fear of the Other is very palpable; a fear that feels to me like it could at any moment escalate from the shunning and violence against people who try to aid Morwen into a more tangible threat against Morwen herself. A reclusive, probably neurodivergent-I will defend this claim, refugee woman who’s not even of the House of Hador makes a very very good scapegoat (other posts on this here and here)

I just...ugh I have so many questions and thoughts. What did Morwen know, if anything, of Brodda in particular? Did she know he held Aerin, Húrin’s kinswoman captive?

I’ve been thinking a lot about it recently both in the context of canon and my AU where she kills Brodda. I’ve been talking to a few very patient people about it, as you can probably imagine, it gets violent fast. 

I have this post too on this!

And a story

[defying-gravityfalls]

Here we are, 10 years later

Hey folks. It's been a while. I really wanted to have something to post in time for the anniversary but I've gotten held up and was unable to make anything in time for the date. We are however on 618 today! So I'll take what I can get lol.

You may have noticed this account has been pretty barren the last couple years, and it's not hard to guess that is because I had moved on, I have fallen into other hyperfixations, and I'm also an adult now with more responsibilities than I had when I was running this account as a teenager. I almost have some sort of guilt from leaving this behind and even wonder if anyone still cares about what's on here, which is part of the reason I haven't posted much. But I'm feeling nostalgic and I want to talk about Gravity Falls and this is the perfect place to do it! So I thought I'd give you all an update on what I have going on and how I've circled back here.

Let me just start off by saying I'm sorry for falling through on a giveaway I had promised right before I had left this account, I still feel bad about it, I was at a real low point in life and should have never promised something I felt I could not follow through on. I didn't know what else to do except run away from it. But I'm better now, and to anyone who is still upset at me over this I encourage you to contact me for a free commission of your choice, because I'm actually serious about art now! (Seriously you have no idea how bad I feel about this I am so so sorry yall)

I have had one major hyperfixation since my GF one faded, and that would be Hatchetfield. I guess I'm just drawn to small towns where weird things happen! In the same way GF changed my life, Hatchetfield also has, I would not be where I am today without either of them. And if you also like Hatchetfield I have side account if you wanna check it out! This is definitely where I'm most active these days. I actually have a fic for it with a premise which many times has been compared to Bipper, and yes I do think that is an accurate callout lol

I've also gotten into The Owl House quite a bit lately, I wasn't too into it when it first started airing like I was with GF but once season 2 hit I started watching pretty regularly, and I'm sure many of you also watch it because of Dana. I'm definitely not as into it as I was with GF but I'm having a good time! A thing doesn't have to take over my life to be good lol.

On a personal note I have moved back to Minnesota! I'm currently a waitress trying to save up enough money for an apartment, I haven't finished college yet but now instead of animation/writing I'm hoping to get/finish my degree in theatre with a focus on costuming and SFX makeup. While I still love animation and could see it as something I would like to be a part of, theatre just seems more realistic to me at this point, and I like it and am already kinda good at it! I've always done theatre, this makes sense for me.

Back to why I came here. With all the hype recently leading up to the 10th anniversary I have been missing Gravity Falls, and I have been missing the community, and I want to get involved again. I don't think I ever truly left Gravity Falls behind, it stayed with me one way or the other, having this presence in my life I couldn't deny, and I think I want to come back home to it. My life has changed a lot the past 10 years, i wanna look back on something that made me so happy.

So I'm gonna try to be more active on this blog! I'm gonna start a long overdue rewatch on the series and maybe liveblog some parts of it. I think that's a good starting point. I'm happy to be back, and I hope I maybe still have friends here after being absent for a few years, and I'm willing to make new ones too. Thank you everybody, for everything. Stay weird.

[smolfailure]

FUCK IT, DREAM SMP HOMESTUCK AU

but it's only half shitposts and there are actual Thoughts in there.

You don't need to have read the comic to understand because I tried not to spoil anything major, but it'd help if you knew basic stuff about classpects, SBURB and the hemospectrum.

disclaimer: i'm not a good pixel artist and this is my first actual sprites ever so please be kind to my weird pixels

The Kids:

Tommy

Fundy

Techno

Tubbo

tommy, tubbo and fundy one of the kids because they're the kids in dream smp canon (with fundy being son of wilbur)

techno's there because i want to make a dave strider reference (haha get it because techno's name is also da-- *gets shot) and also because they are both coolguys except instead of using irony, techno has adhd

The Trolls:

Wilbur Soohte (fuschia)

?????? Ehrret (violet)

J????? Shlatt (purple)

Nihacu Niikki (indigo)

Skeppy Diamon (cerulean)

Quacki Tthiey (teal)

Philza Myncra (jade)

Dreame Wastkn (lime disguising as olive)

George Notfou (gold)

Sapphe Nahfpe (bronze)

Badboy Haelow (burgundy)

don't come at me saying only females are allowed to be jades and fuschias; gender is fake and this is an au

more of the AU and the talksprites are under the cut:

Tommy

Lunar sway: Derse. Types in: Red

chaotic. the first person to be introduced.

when he gets introduced instead of the “Zoosmell Pooplord” bit, Tommy is initially going to be the name inputted but then backspaced it and decided that Tommyinnit was better and he was fuming until he’s named Tommy.

Gives me big Blood/Hope vibes. Blood because a lot of the conflict of the dream smp connected to someone breaking his trust or harming the things he cares about, Hope because a lot of the plot of the dream smp stems from Tommy starting shit based on his ideals and what he thinks is right.

the first to instigate fighting against the trolls

bbh contacts him once and tommy keeps cursing until he disconnects from frustration rip

wields Gunkind and his only strife weapon at the beginning is the Vlog gun. He has Gunkind as his strife specibus mainly because he looked up at schlatt and he imitates him.

Fundy

Lunar sway: Prospit. Types in: Orange

it was his idea to play SBURB but only through Dream.

he talks to dream the most among the other trolls fwt stans getcha juice this is the rosemary of the session

dream’s the one giving him exposition about the game so that’s how he knows how to play SBURB.

wilbur trolls fundy once and instantly adopts him.

“You’re my son.” “How does that even work??” “I was one of the people who created your universe. It’s basically the same thing.”

Fundy relents anyway.

Techno

Lunar sway: Derse. Types in: Pink

dave strider but dead-inside voice + rose lalonde english major vibes

he slices the text box when you try to name him "Dave " like in

techno gives me time player vibes (contantly on the move. his skyblock series, his “stays in the pit” monologue,) but also rage vibes (anarchy,  the “theseus” monologue, political alignment is Chaos) alas i am not sure what class

uses Tridentkind and claims "it came from god"

 it was dream, he accidentally transportalized one of wilbur’s weapon while he testing the transportalizer.

Tubbo

Lunar sway: Prospit. Types in: Green

the jade harley of this session. the only thing keeping them from going apeshit. where would they be without him.

but also jade harley in a sense that he seems nice and wholesome but also don’t fuck with them they can mess you up

Heart/Life vibes??? someone good at classpecting help

i put them in prospit bc of the "tubbo third eye" instead of tubbo having a sixth sense or smth, they see the future from the clouds of skaia when they sleep

wields Stress-relieverKind at some point

bonus: everyone’s actual hair colors

Ideas about the Trolls

no i haven’t done their sprites yet bc it would take so much time and i’m not even sure if people wanna see more of this au skjdkdsakdfkl,, but i have Design Ideas.

events of the dsmp revolution are just a FLARP session drawing parallels to how the homestuck trolls had a FLARP session that spoiler alert: destroyed friendships. dtrio, eret, will are involved. eret betrays will's faction and wilbur's still Bitter over that.

on the context of alternia (highbloods and lowbloods) lmanburg and dreamsmp have their roles SWAPPED.  the emancipation theme thing is completely gone since highbloods are in more power than the lowbloods (the dream team) . 

wilbur made a faction called l’manburg because he wants a place where he and his fellow highbloods could make drugs vibe.they take a piece of land that was owned by the dream team. in normal circumstances, they shouldve stood down because lowbloods aren't supposed to start shit with highbloods (especially a group of highbloods that has the alternian heir among them)  but dream turned it into an activism thing about lowblood rights. the story plays as close as possible without tommy or tubbo in it (which is pretty hard ik but this is the best can do).

like in the dreamsmp revolution, dream kinda let wilbur do what he wants but this time he has more reason to because he’s in a lower caste. dream really only fought back when wilbur announced that he’d be building lmanburg on their land and calling it theirs.

eret betrays wilbur by supporting the lowbloods and wilbur and co. technically won but only because he finally called the drones in, as a reference to how lmanburg absolutely got crushed by the dream team in the smp but technically won. l’manburg keeps the piece of land and the dream team scatter away to find a new home.

wilbur soot's a fuschia because a) he's in a position that has a lot of power, b) yknow how he wrote a song about squids and his thing with sally… yeah.

eret's a violet because nobility!! dream looks down on him because he's ambivalent on fighting for lowblood rights when he's in a power to do so "you just sit there, and you look pretty that's it"

also like eridan he has a minor aesthetic mutation (herobrine eyes) that won't classify him as a mutant.

jschlatt is purple because it makes sense thematically because of the gamzee parallels (a. substance abuse b. if you know what happens in act 6, you know this already but spoiler alert, he ruins the main protagonists' lives) also he's a funnyman he deserves the clown caste

 quackity's a teal because he’s a law student. moving on--

 ok but for real it also makes sense thematically because he's the one who wrote the thing that tricked schlatt into agreeing also he gets manipulated by schlatt which also draws parallels to certain events in the comic

skeppy and bbh are BEST FRIENDS despite being highblood and lowblood respectively. initially, skeppy just wanted to bother bbh but they grew to be good friends in time. y’know like how they actually becane friends :D

philza minecraft is a jade because dad friend. also works thematically, because spoiler alert he gets to murder a seadweller for going batshit crazy. 

he also god tiers early. he dies fighting his quick undead denizen (haha baby zombie) but the consorts of his land carry him to his quest bed because he’s treated them all so well.

dream was initially going to be another caste but then i realized that means i have to make his hoodie something other than green which is unacceptable so its a good thing the fact that he's a lime works out

dream was the one who thought of playing sgrub in the first place- initially only planned to have gogy, sap, and bbh in the session but then realized that they four won't be enough so he invited more into his session

he’s also the first to go godtier ez clap blind speedrun not sure what classpect tho

the only reason why dream avoided being culled at birth for being a limeblood is because his rng is That Good. he quickly picked up the fact that he’s not supposed to exist and masqueraded as an oliveblood and kept mostly to himself to avoid suspicion.

george is still colorblind but he has lazer eyes along with it instead. dream lives with him in the same hive since being a mutant means dream doesn’t get a lusus of his own (dnf fans getcha juice “and they were roommates”) 

despite living in the same hive, he never really figures out that dream is a limeblood. possibly because a) he’s colorblind and when he sees dream bleeding he just sees yellow b) he’s just that fucking oblivious and it’s so valid of him.

sapnap’s a bronzeblood mainly because i know he’s the instigator of the pet war with tommy also because i associate him with the color orang in my mind so bronze it is

that’s the end of this long-ass post!! if you have other ideas PLEASE i want to hear them. i don’t know the other streamers i mentioned in here very well so if you have ideas that would be fitting to them like with classpect or lunar sway that would be GREAT. 

the only thing i’m confident about in here are the kids’ lunar sways. i’m not an expert in classpects and homestuck lore so there’s that too!! i just wanted to make this post because adhd means that the idea wouldn’t shut up until i finished it. This initially started as a single shitpost edit of tommyinnit talksprite but then the hiveswap 2 trailer came out and that means i have to combine my two hyperfixations.

also i have ideas about potential quadrants but idk how much of that is breaking some streamers’ boundaries about shipping (even the non romantic quads such as kismesistude, morallegiance and auspisticism) so i decided not to include it.

edit: apparently people want more so i made a discord server as a place to brainstorm!! please pm me to join!

[celestial-fucking-weeb]

Anonymity be Damned

Hi, everyone! This is my first ever fic, and it’s a part of the Citrus Server collab! I’m so excited about it, and I know it’s super self indulgent, but I worked really hard on it and I hope you like it. Please give me feedback and tell me what you like and what I can improve on; also, please be nice to me, I’m a baby.

MASTER LIST IS  HERE  Go check out everyone’s hard work!

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, AGED UP (mid twenties), fluff, brief angst, insecurities, smut, body worship, chubby kink, marking (hickies), Papi kink

Pairing: Sero Hanta x chubby!female reader

Taglist: @reinawritesbnha

Prompt: "Masquerade balls were something you’d only ever heard about in movies. You couldn’t deny the prospect was intriguing; donning your most elegant attire, confidence boosted by your anonymity and the intoxication brought on by such a magical atmosphere. You and your fellow partygoers were almost doomed to desire, inhibitions washed away long before the wine and spirits started to flow.

The mystery, majesty, and potential for mischief were far too enticing to resist.

So, when you received an invitation to Midnight’s Masquerade, you didn’t think twice about accepting…"

—————————

Of course, not thinking twice about accepting came back to bite you as soon as the realization set in that you would, in fact, have to go. Suddenly hyper-aware of your need to buy a dress, and knowing how little you enjoy shopping, you call your best girls for the job. A quick text to the groupchat had Mina and Yaomomo screaming with excitement that you were actually asking to go shopping. Jirou and Ochako sharing your apprehension, and Hagakure and Froppy bowing out due to their schedules, but wishing you luck with sweet emojis.

Yaomomo chose the dress shop, under the enthusiastic offer that she’d pay to ensure everyone would receive something from her favorite designers. You knew this was a place only Yaomomo could frequent- beautiful gowns lined every wall, display mannequins donning the most gorgeous dresses, made of the best fabrics with jewels perfectly beaded in, none of which had price tags so as to not “ruin the material” as she had told all of you. Whisking you all into dressing rooms bigger than your entire apartment, the staff practically fawned over each of you, offering assistance, refreshments, recommendations, and- oh fuck- measurements. Nerves shot through your entire body and made you nauseous, ready to make a stupid excuse to leave before your insecurities were announced to your girlfriends. You’ve always been...bigger.

The word tasted bitter on your tongue. The consultant made barely a sound as she pulled out her tape, but you heard it. That little “hm” noise, indicating judgement, knowing that most of their stock isn’t going to fit you properly, what with your plump thighs, soft tummy, squishy arms, the rolls that seemed to stay no matter how many workouts you do..

“We don’t carry plus size gowns, but I’m sure I can find something for you.”

All is confirmed when she says those stupid fucking words with that Joker-esqe smile and that hint of disgust in her tone. ‘I shouldn’t be here, I never should’ve accepted that invitation, why did I even think this was a good idea, the whole thing is for beautiful skinny girls like your friends, this is all a mistake,’ you think to yourself, insecurities and anxiety flooding your brain. Mina’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Excuse me, I don’t believe we asked for your personal opinion on her body. In fact, I believe we only asked for you to do your job, but if you can’t complete such a daunting task, I’m sure there are 20 other people who’d love to take your place.” she grinned, in a tone too perky for her threatening choice of words.

“Also, as I happen to frequent this shop, I know your entire inventory. As such, I know that you do, in fact, carry gowns for each of our sizes. If you can find one to fit my chest, I know you have a variety of gowns to fit my beautiful friend, y/n. I suggest you begin pulling them, as I’m sure you’ve gotten the measurements you need. Now.” This time it’s Yaomomo, handling the situation with dignitary-level finality, before gracefully walking to you with a comforting smile. Ochako wipes a tear you weren’t aware had fallen, attempting to comfort you with false empathy, saying how you two are “practically the same size”, but you know you’re not. It’s comforting nonetheless, having the support of your friend group. Jirou cracks self deprecating jokes to lighten the mood, complaining, “If I have to wear a frilly gown to this bullshit, so do you, y/n. You’re not getting out of this that easy,” and you absolutely know she means it.  

With your spirit slightly renewed and the consultants carrying in a multitude of dresses, you all end up having a blast laughing about how the pink ballgown does not fit Jirou’s aesthetic and the skintight green satin number Ochako tried on would quite literally have Deku passed out on the floor. You giggled with Yaomomo about how certain dresses looked risqué and nearly pornographic on your respective figures. Mina whined about how each dress didn’t have enough glitter, her complaints falling on deaf ears. Over the course of two and a half hours, each of the girls had secured a dress. Mina, in a teal mermaid-style dress with enough sparkle woven into the tulle to blind. Jirou, in a simple deep purple velvet gown that gracefully fell off her shoulders. Ochako, deciding, after much peer pressure, to opt for the green satin to make Deku drool. Yaomomo, in a red gown with beautiful beading, and a deep V neckline. You, on the other hand, were struggling to find something that doesn’t have you hyperfixating on one aspect of your body or another, limiting your breathing and movement so as to not further sink into the mean thoughts swirling around inside your head. The girls have gone into full support staff-mode, bringing you dresses of every cut known to man, offering more champagne to dull the anxieties, Yaomomo even offering to make you a custom dress with her quirk. Jirou sheepishly comes into the room, head down, hoping no one brings attention to the fact that she just sifted through dresses for a good 15 minutes and didn’t hate it, before nudging your soft side. You turn to her, defeated, and ready to give up, when you realize what she’s holding. She’s picked a dress for you, even though she hates shopping anywhere that isn’t blaring music through the speakers and dimly lit. You smile sweetly at her shy offering, reaching out to take it before she pulls back.

“No, I have an idea… I know it’s easy to look at your insecurities before the dress is all the way on, and I think you should let us help you into it with your eyes closed… Then, when you turn around to the mirror, you can see all the beautiful parts, like we do!” She looks down at the floor as she mutters the words, as though she’s embarrassed to be so soft and sweet.

“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, JIROU! OH MY GOD, Y/N, YOU HAVE TO LET US DRESS YOU, IT’LL BE JUST LIKE CINDERELLA WITH THE BIRDS AND THE MICE, COME ONNN…” Mina bounces up and down, grabbing your hands and pleading, knowing you never say no when she gives you such excited eyes.

“Uh… fine… Yeah, I guess it couldn’t hurt. It’s not like I have anything to lose.” You shyly whisper, looking away.

If it were anyone else, you’d never want them to see you getting dressed, soft tummy and extra squish uncovered, leaving you vulnerable to their judgement. But these are your best friends, you’d known them for years. They’d held your hair on your 21st birthday, and cuddled into bed with you when you were crying over unrequited love. They’ve had your back, they’d never make fun of you, and Jirou chose this dress all special for you, you couldn’t say no. With that, you turned around and closed your eyes, arms out and waiting for them to help you into whatever Jirou had deemed right for you.

“Okay, y/n, almost done, just have to zip this last part up and… DONE!” Mina and Yaomomo stepped back from their positions holding the sides and pulling the zipper, respectively. Finally admiring the you in the dress, there was a moment of absolute silence. You started shifting uncomfortably, wondering just how horrible you looked if they didn’t even have words to describe it. Ochako was the first to break the quiet and a teary-sounding “You’re so beautiful, y/n.”, followed by Mina’s signature squeals of excitement. Yaomomo clasped her hands together and began ranting about “how gorgeous you looked” and “how perfect the dress was” and “how she didn’t even know they had this one yet”. Jirou, sensing your anxious shifting, finally told you to open your eyes and turn around with a hand on your shoulder, the satisfied smirk on her face audible in her now assured voice.

“Oh… wow…” was all you could manage to say, eyes wide as you saw yourself in the full length mirror. This was, in all honesty, the first time you felt beautiful in years. The dress did nothing to hide your body- no- it somehow managed to accentuate every single curve in the most beautiful way possible. The gown was black, made from silk and taffeta, with some built in structure, and oh so soft. Simultaneously comfortable, secure, and elegant, the strapless gown mimicked a one shoulder, right side jutting up in an asymmetrical style and the left dipping just low enough to show your cleavage before cascading down your curves, hugging each roll of your body gently, showing off your figure and flowing down to the floor with a slit up your thigh, only visible when you walked and showing the ample flesh of your hip and thigh. God, it was perfect. You felt strong and classy and sexy and beautiful. Turning to Jirou, you pull her into your chest and hug her, thanking her a thousand times for finding it.

“Whoa, hey, okay… I’m glad you like it, you look absolutely beautiful. But- um- hey, can you let go? I’m suffocating in titties here.” Jirou laughed, genuinely struggling to breathe in your embrace.

“Oh shit, sorry, Jirou! I’m just so happy, I love it so much! I kinda forgot you can’t breathe when I do that…” You chuckle nervously, releasing her from your embrace.

“Yay! Okay, now that everyone has a dress, let’s go purchase them and get some food. I’m starving!” Yaomomo pitches the idea, and everyone agrees, excited to hurry out of the shop for a meal.

_____________________________________________________________

The day had finally come, and your nerves felt fried. The other girls all had dates; Momo and Jirou deciding to go together, Ochako with Deku, even Mina was going with Kaminari. But here you were, riding in the car service alone, makeup absolutely flawless, complete with falsies and red lipstick that was the perfect shade to stand out against your skin. Such a shame no one was going to be benefiting from your efforts tonight, although the thought that your longtime crush, Sero Hanta, would be in attendance was enough to urge you to adjust your carefully placed mask, ensuring your anonymity and polishing your confidence. Sero had been in your friend group since high school, and was the first person you truly warmed up to upon your acceptance into the group. You quickly became the “shy little sister” to the loud ones in the group: Bakugou, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina. Jirou and Sero were more your speed; quieter, more laid back and chill, with great senses of humor that not everyone was privy to. With Jirou as your designated best friend, Sero was proclaimed the unrequited love interest. You friendzoned yourself almost immediately, assuming Sero wouldn’t go for a girl like you, not when he was tall, dark, handsome, and muscular. A budding pro hero wouldn’t want you, not with your shy insecurities and soft body…

Little did you know, Sero had been pining after you since the beginning, flirting with you subtly in hopes that you’d express your interest. Eyes wandering down your curves during movie nights, taking in your too-small shorts and how your oversized shirt would raise just enough to see your little tummy pouch, wishing his face was buried between your plump thighs, praying he would be able to leave hickeys on every delicious roll, pleading he could see those cute chubby cheeks covered with tears while your plush lips wrapped around his cock… No- he couldn’t think of you like that. After all, you never returned his flirting, and there’s no way you’d like him when you could crush on manlier guys like Kirishima and Bakugou. ‘He was just a “dollar store Spiderman”, as Bakugou liked to call him, just a guy… Nothing special…’ he thought to himself as he adjusted his own mask in the bathroom mirror at the gala. His friends had all confirmed that you were coming, and that you were coming alone (said by Kaminari while wiggling his eyebrows). Every other person in the group had a date, including Bakugou and Kirishima, who had to practically drag the former to the event in the first place. He was the only one “stagging it”, aside from you, who would no doubt attract attention and end up going home with some flashy hero higher ranked than he was. He sighed, adjusting his tux jacket and cufflinks, and exited into the main ballroom to get a drink.

You walked into the venue, checked in, and stood frozen outside the ballroom entrance. You adjusted your mask, steeled your nerves, and squared your shoulders, reminding yourself how absolutely gorgeous you looked and donning your best “bad bitch” aura. You strut into the place like you own it, suddenly very aware of how many people there are, scanning for familiar faces as you sway your luscious hips to maintain your balance in your heels.

“Holy fuck... “  Sero utters, jaw slack and eyes locked on you. You’re so perfect, breasts bouncing with every step, thighs and tummy jiggling, soft smile gracing your face. He’s staring, and Kaminari has to elbow him to wipe the drool from the side of his mouth before you get there. You’re equally as enchanted, seeing Sero in his black fitted tuxedo, crushed velvet lapels, tapered pants making his quads look positively biteable, crisp white shirt tailored over his pecs, black bowtie (slightly crooked, very fitting of his personality) and mask obscuring his face, leaving him as nothing more than a handsome stranger. A  yellow pocket square catches your attention, reminding you of your favorite hero in his costume. You smirk to yourself, knowing you chose yellow gold heels specifically because they reminded you of him.

“See something you like, Sero-buddy? You’re staring so hard, you’d think she was God.” Kaminari punches Sero in the ribs, trying to break the spell. “Maybe you should talk to her, finally get over your crush on y/n by getting under someone else.” he winks, completely unaware that he’s talking about you in both respects.

“Uh… I don’t know, man. I think I’ll give it a minute, maybe grab another drink and enjoy the party for a while. I’m not trying to start hitting on some random chick just yet, though hot she may be.” Sero laughs, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he’s nervous. He diverts his eyes down to his drink, downs the rest of the liquid, then focuses back on you. You wait at the bar for your drink of choice, aware of that beautiful stranger still staring and leaning against the counter just enough to push your ass out. You hear him nearly choke on his drink, and move around the party satisfied with yourself.

A few drinks later, you find yourself on the dance floor, watching from the edge and lightly swaying to the music. A masked man with shaggy black hair, who you can only assume to be pro hero Grand, given his mask barely covered a fourth of his face probably only worn to fit the theme, approached you for a dance, hand extended and bowing at the waist.

“A lady as beautiful as yourself shouldn’t be a wallflower. Care to dance?” he asks, voice low and alluring, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes.

“I might…” you smile shyly, taking his hand and letting him lead you.

Once out on the dance floor, he pulls you into his chest with a hand on your lower back. It’s nice to be wanted, to dance so close to a man who finds you beautiful, especially one as chiseled as Grand. ‘Wait- is he…? Are you fucking kidding?’ Your fight or flight response kicks in as soon as you feel his hand drift lower and lower onto your ass. You pull away, ready to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but before you can get a word out, he puts a hand over your jaw, fingers tightly snapping your mouth closed. Unable to speak and too shocked to move, you feel helpless as he whispers in your ear.

“God, I love fat girls. Your self esteem is so low, I can do whatever I want and you’ll fall for it. So stupid, so fun.” His laugh is so dark, and you start to panic before a large, strong hand reaches between the two of you and wraps around Grand’s throat, yanking him back and off of you.

“Listen, this is a classy place, so I’ll give you a choice. Either you apologize to this absolutely gorgeous woman and get the fuck out of here, or I beat you to a bloody pulp right here and ruin both your suit and your face.” The handsome stranger who had originally caught your eye growls, voice so low and intimidating you didn’t doubt for a second he meant every word. ‘His voice sounds so familiar, but I can’t quite place it. He’s so angry, and he’s speaking so low, I can’t figure out where I’ve heard that before.’  Thankful for his saving assistance, and trying to calm yourself from hyperventilating, you watch Grand’s retreating form before turning to the man who is quite literally your Prince Charming of the evening.

Voice still low and angry, “Listen, I need you to distract me. Calm me down so I don’t turn around and kill that guy.” he seethes. “You are stunning, absolutely gorgeous. He was so wrong. He’s an asshole, absolutely vile, and he never should’ve even had the nerve to approach you, much less touch you. God fucking damn it, I should-”

You cut him off by pulling him close, placing your hands on his chest and letting them roam up to fix his still crooked bowtie.

“Thank you…” you whisper, tearing up as you put your head on his chest. His cologne is so calming, his scent enveloping you as his arms instinctively wrap around you and his hand finds the back of your head, holding you to his chest.

The two of you slow dance in silence, his head resting on top of yours, the scent of your shampoo and hairspray comforting him and taking him to a dream where he was dancing with the y/n he knew, feeling your soft body pressed against him, imagining how you’d look in the dress on the girl he was actually dancing with. ‘Oh fuck, y/n would look so fucking perfect in this. Her curves- fuck, this dress is soft- I would absolutely love to run my hands along her body in this dress, press her up against me like this, fuck her thighs- wait… SHIT-FUCK-NO’  Snapped out of his thoughts by the increasing tightness of his tux pants, he prays to god the sexy girl pressed against him doesn’t notice.

You notice something nudging against your thigh, breaking you out of your daydreams about the mystery man being Sero Hanta, opening your eyes before you realize exactly what you’re feeling. ‘Oh… OH. Holy fuck, did I make him hard just dancing? He- uh- feels… big… Maybe if I just-’  you subtly shift your hips, thigh brushing up against him and slotting between his legs just enough. A deep groan rises from his chest, and he leans down to your ear.

“Babygirl, if you keep doing what I think you’re doing, I’m going to have to return the favor~” His voice sounds so familiar, but the lust clouding the low rumble has it taking on an entirely new timbre. You lean in, feeling emboldened by his words, swiping your tongue along the shell of his ear with a simple “Oh really?~ And what if that’s the goal?”

With that, he crooks his finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours. What starts as a sweet and simple kiss quickly evolves into a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. His fingers gently resting on your neck, just above your collarbone, and tongue swiping at your bottom lip. You sigh into him, granting him access and letting his tongue explore your mouth, relishing in his deep rumbles and pressing impossibly closer, hoping he’d get the message and take you somewhere more private. Luckily, it seems he seems to read your body language and leads you to a side hallway by pressing his hand on the small of your back, possessively guiding you. Pushing you up against the wall, he leans back in to resume kissing you, with an arm steadying himself above your head. In a simply embarrassing display of clumsiness, your hand reaching for his cheek goes slightly off course, accidentally knocking off his mask and causing you to fumble to the floor to retrieve it. Upon looking up, you see Sero standing with a flushed face and his hand reaching up to the back of his neck, the endearing nervous tic you’d learned from him over the years. Oh God, if your heart wasn’t beating fast enough before, it sure as fuck was now… The man you had yearned after for years not only swooping in to save you from some low-life creep, but also having you in a kabedon against the wall of the fanciest place you’ve ever been in. He laughs, nervous now without his anonymity, and reaches down to help you up.

“I- uh- sorry, I might’ve gotten carried away. I hope you’re okay, I know I’m probably not the hero you wanted. I really do think you’re beautiful, you actually remind me of someone I know and- wow- I’m rambling…” He goes on like this, panicking that he’s somehow ruined your fantasy and disappointed you by existing. He only shuts up when you stand back upright and kiss him softly.

“You’re exactly the hero I want… The hero I’ve always wanted.” You blush, staring up at him with the most loving doe eyes you can manage.

‘Wait… Her voice… Is that- ?’ Sero came to quite possibly the best and utterly terrifying realization; that the girl he’d been lusting after all night and the girl he’d been wanting for years could be the same girl. He hesitantly brought a hand to your face, lightly grazing your mask as though asking for permission. You nod, never breaking your gaze on his concentrated expression, and parted your lips. He gingerly lifts the mask from your features, damning your anonymity, and each of you hold your breath in anticipation. The way he looks at you is like something out of a movie, or one of those shōjo manga you love to obsess over: pure relief, adoration, lust, love. Oh, you want him to look at you like that forever.

“Y/n, I-... You have no idea how happy I am that it’s you. I have been wanting to kiss you for years, and to finally do it, and with you looking… Wow- you are so fucking stunning, I have never seen anything as beautiful in my life. Fuck, I just- I wish I could tell you how perfect you are, express in words how flawless I’ve always thought you were- still do… “ Sero breathed all of this as though he had to get every word out before you disappeared. He held your face in both hands, lightly squishing your cheeks and stroking his thumb over your lips, taking in your hopelessly enthralled expression. “You know what? Fuck this. No- I mean- not ‘fuck this’, I just… I want to do this right. I want you, I need you. I want to express how important you are, I need to show you that you’re everything to me. I want to worship you, kiss every inch of your body and make you feel so incredibly complete and full and whole and appreciated. Do you understand?”

“Hanta… I- Yes. Yes. Please take me home, I need you. I want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” You lean into his touch, wanting to be ever closer to his warmth.

You yelp as he suddenly picks you up, bridal style, as though you don’t even provide a struggle.

“HANTA, you can’t be carrying me, I weigh more than you, no no no, I’m too heavy, you can’t-”

“Y/n. I’m a pro hero, are you seriously telling me I can’t carry you? I can carry 3 people at once while hanging from a strip of tape in midair. I’ll hold you up forever if you’d let me.” He squeezes you in his hold, emphasizing his point.

His cocky attitude was majorly driven by how good you felt, soft tummy and jiggling tits against his torso, the perfect squish of your thighs in his powerful arms, chubby hands and cheeks tucked into his chest and the crook of his neck. He swore he could die happy right there. In the elevator, he took a moment to take in your entire figure, but upon reaching your feet, something turned him absolutely feral. Your shoes. You were wearing his colors. Every single piece of clothing matched his hero costume. ‘Holy shit… You knew. You wanted him before this even happened. You were his.’ The possessive growl that tore from his chest startled you as he adjusted you in his hold. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, hands unapologetically on the ample crux of your thighs and ass, lips on yours in a desperate kiss that was all tongue and teeth, grinding his hard cock against you. You whimpered against his lips, shocked by his sudden change of demeanor.

“Fuck, you’re wearing my colors, aren’t you? You want me to claim you? You want to be mine? I’ll give you anything you want, babygirl. I just need you to ask for it.~” He growled against your neck, nose tracing the column of your throat.

“Hanta, please, yes- ah~. I want to be yours. I only want to be yours. I need you. Please, please, please.” Normally, you’d be way too shy to beg this much, embarrassed about how desperate you sound, but fuck he’s making you so needy. The gasp that escapes you when Sero licks a stripe up your neck turns into a moan when he starts sucking a hickey over your pulsepoint. He feels so good, the heat between your thighs steadily building with every nip of his teeth and roll of his hips. You thread your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck and pull gently, earning a groan and a buck of his hips. He works his way up to your jaw, leaving pretty little marks in his wake, and returns to your lips like a safe haven. He strokes your tongue with his own, committing your taste to memory. He never wants to forget this moment, especially not when you lightly suck his tongue and pull him in further with those perfect fucking thighs. You’re so soft, being wrapped in your plushness with his fingers digging into the pliable flesh of your ass is too much. Sero’s sinful thoughts are interrupted by your fucked-out voice, so small and innocent, as though you’re afraid of his answer.

“Um… Can I- can I touch you? I mean- I- can I mark you, too?” You sound so unsure, not used to someone wanting to show you off.  You’re so breathless, and he’d be lying if the pleading in your voice didn’t make his dick twitch in his pants.

“Awwww~ is my babygirl shy now? You want to mark me, too? Go ahead, mi amor, sí se puede. I’m all yours, just like you’re mine.” Sero cranes his head to the side, baring his neck to you, waiting for you to bless him with those full lips, waiting for you to make a show of him finally having the most perfect girl he’s ever known.

If he could’ve taken a picture of your face in that moment, he’d look at it every day. Squishy cheeks blushing, eyes wide with surprise and excitement, gaze clouded with lust. You were so pretty, he couldn’t wait to ruin you. Sero moaned as you sucked a small dark mark onto his skin and happily carried you from the elevator to his room. You tighten your arms around him when he reaches for his key card, involuntarily pushing your chest together and pressing up into him.

“Oh, mi corazón, if you keep pressing into me like that, voy a tener que lamer cada parte de ti y puede que no te deje ir…” His threats sound more like promises when he’s carrying you through the threshold and placing you down gently, though his hands never leave your body.  Tracing your sides, memorizing your curves, squeezing any part he can get his hands on.  His right hand inches down your torso, resting on the pouch of your tummy and making you flinch. Sero notices and worries he’s hurt you, or that you don’t want him to touch you. The hurt in his eyes is obvious when he takes in your tense muscles and eyes squeezed shut, realizing it’s your own insecurities holding you back. He wishes you could see how beautiful you are, see yourself through his eyes. He was going to make you feel so fucking loved, he just had to show you what he couldn’t express in words. You stripped him of his jacket as he unknotted his tie. With nervous hands, you unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it past his broad shoulders, fingers trailing down his sculpted chest and lean abs, admiring the enticing adonis belt and pretty trail of coarse black hair disappearing into his pants. Sero, with his ego now boosted by the lustful look in your eyes as you took him in, returned your gaze to his face with an intensity that made you shiver. He kept eye contact while sweeping your hair to one side, and slowly unzipping your gown. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans down to place open mouthed kisses along your shoulders as he pushes your dress down your body, kissing down your arms as it falls, and places a sweet kiss to your hands. Pushing you onto the bed with a soft thud and climbing over top of you, he moves the hands that raise to cover yourself , grasping your wrists in one hand and cupping your cheek with the other, as he softly reassures you.

“Princesa, please don’t hide from me. I’ve waited for you for so long, and I want to worship every inch of you. I’m going to make you cry out my name, and show you just how perfect you are while you cum on my tongue. You will not say a single bad thing about mi amor, you understand?” he says lowly, so loving yet commanding.

“Yes, Hanta… I- I’ll be good for you, I promise.” you whine, praying your submission would please him.

The sound of his given name in that pleading tone has him painfully hard, but he’s too focused on hearing his name from your sweet lips again to care. You pull him down into a passionate kiss and roll your hips against his clothed cock when he laves down your neck and leaves love bites across your chest. He sucks your nipple into his warm mouth and rolls the other between his forefinger and thumb, earning a high pitched keen from you. He switches to give the same attention to the other side, tongue swirling around the peaked bud and relishing the way your chest heaves just from his mouth on your tits. ‘So needy… Fuck, how did I ever wait this long to see y/n like this and hear her sounds?’ Sero thinks to himself, so ready to watch your eyes roll back in your skull the minute you feel his cock fill you. The thought of you bouncing on his dick, watching you jiggle with his thrusts, letting him grip the fat on your hips and help you fuck yourself on him, feeling your lovely thighs straddle him, has him impatiently rutting into the mattress. He needs to taste you, leave marks all over your delicious tummy and thighs, and feel you coming undone beneath him. His large hands slide down your sides, rubbing back up under your breasts, gripping the extra flesh over your ribcage, the soft love handles on your sides, caressing the perfect pouch of your belly and settling on your hips. His mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing and licking every place you had deemed undesirable like they were the sexiest pieces of you, leaving dark hickeys on the front of your hips to remind you that all of these parts were now his to love.

“Lo siento, babygirl, pero no puedo esperar más, necesito mi lengua en ese bonita coño jodidamente ahora. Estas necesitan estar en el suelo ahora.” If his panting growl of Spanish didn’t already have your pussy gushing, his strong fingers ripping your panties and hoes off your body had you dripping onto the bed. Your shocked squeak turning into a moan when he parted your legs and nipped at the soft skin of your inner thigh, Sero is beyond delighted by feeling your beautiful thighs squishing against his face. If he could choose his end, it would undoubtedly be suffocating between this plush heaven. He snaked his arms under your parted thighs to hold your hips, squeezing and marveling at the feeling of your warm body protruding between his spread fingers, trying to fit as much of you in his grasp as he could and never getting enough. You’re just about to plead for him to touch you where you need him most when you lock eyes and hear the teasing lilt in his voice when he groans “Itadakimasu~” and flattens his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up your slit.

“So wet for me, princesa, is this all for me? You’re so thoughtful to give me a meal so sweet.”

“Hantaaa, please. I want you, please don’t tease me, please touch me. I need- ah~”  

Your begging is interrupted by his tongue diving into your sex, lapping at your slick like a man starved. The moans coming from the man between your thighs were sinful; in this moment, Sero Hanta was no longer the friend you’d watched superhero movies with and silently crushed on for years- he was a man, a lover, all you’d ever wanted. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking the sensitive pearl into his mouth, he pulled one hand from your hip and slowly slipped two long fingers into your sopping heat. The callused pads from years of hero training now rubbing perfectly against your walls have you crying out for him and grasping his hair, begging him to go faster. He suddenly props himself up, bringing his palm up to grind against your clit and slowing his thrusts, wanting to hear you beg for him and watch your desperate facial expression.

“What is it you want, babygirl? C’mon, you’re going to have to use that pretty little mouth of yours. Tell me what you want, baby, use your words. I wanna hear you beg for me.” That normally dopey smile was replaced with a lewd smirk, hungry and covered in your juices.

“H-Hanta, please please please. I need you, need your mouth. Please I wanna cum, please let me cum, I want you to fuck me! Please please pleaseeeee~” Hips bucking forward, sweat lightly covering your skin, hair splayed out, body covered in his marks, begging for him… Shit, he’d give you anything you asked for. Oh, he’ll give you what you need- don’t you worry.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. I’ll make this pretty pussy cum. Hold onto me and just relax, princess.”

His lips returned to your clit, flicking his tongue and sucking lightly, and increased his pace. He curled his fingers just right, finding the spongy underside of your clit and he chuckles darkly to himself when your back arches, head falling back onto the pillows.

“There it is~, there we go, babygirl. Cum for me, just like this. I’ve got you, let go, cum on my fingers.”

It doesn’t take long after his mouth goes back to nursing on your clit and his fingers continuously hitting your g-spot for the coil in your belly to finally snap. You climax hard, eyes screwed shut and screaming out his name as his tongue works you through your high. Once you’ve come down, you open your eyes and see Sero sucking his fingers clean of your release and unbuckling his belt with the other hand. You sit up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and unbuttoning his pants. He grows impatient with your pace, shoving his pants and tight boxers down at once. ‘Fuck, his dick is pretty’ you think to yourself, marveling at the masterpiece before you. He’s long, maybe 8.5-9 inches, thick enough to stretch your walls so deliciously but not too thick to fit in your mouth, prominent vein running along the underside and leading from the neat crop of black hair to the leaking tip, begging for your tongue. You start to rise to your knees before being pushed back into the duvet, looking up at him in confusion.

“No, no, mi amor. As much as I want to see your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock, that’s gonna have to wait. I want to be inside you, I need to fuck you until all you can think about is me and how fucking beautiful I think you are.” His eyes are so sincere. He looks down at you with the most loving stare you’ve ever felt, so calm and safe in his presence. You’re lulled into submission, every doubtful argument you had died on your tongue, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He leans over you, bracing himself on an elbow with his hand on your jaw to keep your eyes fixated on him. The other hand wraps around the base of his cock and teases the head along your slit, pressing on your clit just enough to have you squirming, trying to impale yourself.

“So needy for me, so wet. You’re so perfect, babygirl, I wouldn’t want to go too fast now. I want to savor every inch, feel you stretch around me while I watch those e/c eyes roll back in pleasure.” He holds back from thrusting into you when you whine in response, breathing heavy and struggling to get him inside. “Damn, baby, if you’re that desperate, why don’t you tell me exactly what you want? Beg for my cock, mi amor.”

“PLEASE, I need you inside me, please! I need your cock. Please fuck me, Papi~” You gasp out in succession, trying out the name you had once heard Kaminari teasing him about. It was a desperate attempt to get him to move, one your fucked-out brain decided was your best shot at getting him feral. And holy shit were you right. Sero fills you in an instant, hard length thrust to the hilt in your tight hole, causing you to cry out, eyes rolling back just as he promised.

“FUCK!” He’s losing restraint, driven mad by the filthy name coming from your angelic lips. The squeezing and fluttering of your walls is the only thing grounding him to Earth as he smirks down at you, baring his teeth while his other hand comes to wrap around your throat and apply light pressure to the sides. “Oh you know what you’re doing, don’t you? You have no idea how many times I imagined you calling me like that with these soft thighs wrapped around me; trust me, it’s nothing close to how sexy the real thing is. If you want to play dirty, princesa, don’t blame me when you can’t walk tomorrow.”

He backed up his statement with a few deep strokes that had your mouth falling open and eyes unfocusing, still unable to look away from the man about to wreck you. In a weak attempt to ground yourself, you reach up and place your hands on his back to feel the flexing of his muscles as he gave you slow, deep thrusts. Running your hands along his shoulders had your pussy clenching, and the groan pulled from his chest accompanying a harsh increase in his pace had your nails clawing at the corded muscles, causing him to put more force into fucking you into the mattress. A cycle of reactions, spurring the other on to continue and escalate.

“You feel so good, babygirl. S-So tight, you feel like you’re fucking made for me. I love you so much. I love everything about you. God, I fucking love your body- I love your curves, I love your legs wrapped around me, I love your sexy fucking thighs, I love your cute tummy- love how you feel pressed against me, I love running my fingers up your arms and kissing back down, I love gripping your hips when I hold you, I love watching you jiggle when you walk and bounce when I fuck you like this. You’re so fucking beautiful, so perfect for me.” Sero babbles out praises like he’ll die if he doesn’t get them out. You’re a blushing mess, knowing these words are completely true, tumbling out of his mouth unconsciously as he thinks them. “I love that expression, angel. Still so shy at my praises, even though I can feel you trying to milk my cock at every word. Such a good girl for me. Why don’t you tell me who makes this pretty pussy feel so good, huh? Say it, angel.”

“Hantaaa~ you feel so good. Please don’t stop!! I’m so close, please. I wanna cum, I wanna cum on your cock, please Papiiii~. You make me feel so good. I love you, I love you, I’m all yours. Please, I’m yours-ah~, I wanna be yours. I need you, I love you so much. Only you could make me feel like this-fuck- it’s only you. Please make me cum, Papi~” Your moans and pleas are getting louder and louder, chasing your impending climax. Every emotion flowing out of you, combined with the wonderful overstimulation, had tears rolling down your pudgy cheeks. You hadn’t yet realized you were crying when Sero leaned down to kiss and lick away the salty streams.

“Okay, princesa, I’ll give you what you need. How can I say no when you're being so good for me? Such a beautiful mess, all for me. So perfect. My good girl~” His right hand smoothes down your torso and settles between your thighs, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Come on, babygirl. Papi’s got you, I’ll take good care of you. Cum for Papi. Cum on my cock.”

Your final orgasm has your back arched off the bed, eyes crossed, tongue lolling out, screaming out a string of “Hanta”, “Papi”, and “I love you”. Sero keeps his pace steady, fucking you through your climax and trying to prolong it as long as he can. The feeling of your doughy pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice, the gloriously wrecked ahegao face, and the sound of your cries as you creamed on his dick had him right on the edge of his own high. He started to pull out, not wanting to cross any boundaries, when he felt your legs pull him in even further. He looks back to your face; hazy, loving eyes drawing him in with that innocent look.

“Please cum inside me Papi, I want it! I’m yours, I want you. I want you to fill me up.” The permission to claim his longtime love and the aftershocks of your orgasm having you still pulsing around him finally push him over the edge. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting in a feeble attempt to muffle his moans of your name as his hips stuttered, thick ropes of cum warming your insides and painting your walls white. You feel so full and so content. Staying inside you, Sero rolls the two of you over to lay on his back, still holding your sweaty bodies together as he kisses your forehead and strokes your hair, telling you how good you did, how happy he was, how proud he was of you.

No one has ever made you feel so good, so wanted. Normally, your post-sex thoughts are plagued with insecurities, but instead all yoou can think about is Sero and how perfect this was. How beautiful he made you feel… and how you didn’t want it to end.

“H-Hey… Um… Sero?” you timidly get his attention.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need you to start calling me Hanta if we’re gonna be together. It’s a little weird to call your boyfriend by their family name, isn’t it?… Unless you wanna call me Papi, of course~” He says, his normal goofy grin and teasing tone returned.

“Wait… You- you really want to be with me? You don’t want me to keep it a secret? I will if you tell me to… I don’t want to embarrass you, I know I’m not exactly the ‘trophy wife’ the other heroes go for… I just really like you- um- actually, I’ve been in love with you for years now, and I just got really excited that you wanted me and-” Your nervous muttering is cut off with his lips softly pressed against yours, his hand moving to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Mi amor, I’ve been in love with you for just as long. You are my trophy, the greatest part of me. Every single thing I said is true, and I’ve thought those things for our entire friendship. If you think for a second that I won’t be walking around shirtless, showing off all of these marks to Kirishima and Kaminari, you don’t know me at all.” He winks at you and brings your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there. “Princesa, babygirl, mi corazón… Nunca te dejaré, yo nunca te dejaré salir, yo prometo. I am yours, and you are mine.”

“I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you, too, y/n.”

You fall asleep on his chest to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat and steady breathing. Upon waking up, you assume you had just dreamed the entire affair, chalking it up to your vivid imagination and drinks at the ball. That is, until you realize you’re trapped in a tangle of limbs with Hanta, leg hiked over his body and arms encompassing each other. You try to shift slightly to see his sleeping face, but he stirs and rolls over on top of you with a groan. The jolt of his muscles jerking awake told you he also thought he had dreamed the entire thing, believing that the prospect of your mutual pining actually coming to fruition was too good to be true.

“Good morning, angel. I’m so glad you’re real… And that you’re all mine.” Sero softly sighs, voice rough from sleep, nuzzling his face into your chest and squeezing your soft midsection to hold you closer.

“Good morning, love. I’m so so happy, but there’s one thing…” You say, trying to hold back your giggles.

“What is it, baby? Is something wrong? What did I do?” Sero starts thinking of every possible scenario as you soothe his thoughts with a cheeky smile.

“I- um… I think I need you to carry me to the shower, you weren’t lying when you said I wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning.” Both of you erupt in a fit of laughter. He scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the shower, so content in finally having his girl.

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A/N: WHEW okay… I’m actually really proud of this, and I hope you guys like it. The Latin Sero headcanon hits me so hard and I just absolutely simp for this sweet tape boy. Huge thank you to @reinawritesbnha for inspiring me to write this matchup, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten for encouraging me and giving me the courage to post, and my dear, sweet Sage for reading it to make sure I don’t embarrass myself and inspiring me to write in the first place. <3