#the pun works so much better when read aloud so read it aloud

[characterssaythedarnestthings]

"Happy new year, may the Twenty Twenty-FOUR-ce be with you" - Someone from Star Wars, maybe Obi Wan Kenobi or Han Solo idk I've never seen it

[wongyuseokie]

The One in Red | k.m.g

Summary: You had a plan for New Year, go out and find some hot guy, you found a hot guy, but he won't stop with his crappy puns and pick-up lines, but when he looks that good, you can ignore it. 

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff |  ♕ smut |  ♥ completed works 

Word Count: 1530 words

Pairings: Kim Mingyu x Female Reader 

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: PWP, Strangers to Lovers(?) 

Content Warnings: Alcohol consumption, bad puns, and terrible pickup lines. Mingyu is wearing THAT red suit. So that’s a warning. Kissing.

Smut Warnings: Public sex, sorta? They fuck in a closet. Unprotected sex (don’t do this in real life, this is fiction). Slightly rough sex, against a wall. Big Dick! Mingyu. 

Authors Note 1: Thank you to @here4btsfics for beta'ing this fic for me. I love you so dearly 💕 also thank you to @the-boy-meets-evil @love-strike and @seungkwansphd for reading this and then yelling at me. hehehehe I love the dynamic, but really thank you all so so much for all the support as always 🥺🥰 Authors Note 2: tagging @baljinciaga because she asked 🥰 Banner Credits: @classicscreations Cross Posted to AO3 © wongyuseokie 2022. All rights reserved.

“This is so dumb,” you muttered aloud.

“Excuse me?” You turned around to see a handsome man, a man you only thought existed in celluloid and the pages of romance–erotic–novels. 

“Eavesdrop much?” You shot back, making him grin. 

“You spoke out loud to yourself, plus you said dumb,” he answered. 

“I’m guessing you turned because it’s something you get called a lot?” You fired off, and he held his hands up in defence.  

“Oh, ouch.” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I just, ugh. I hate the forced merriment of New Year,” you admitted, and the stranger nodded. 

“Well, what if I got you a drink to help drown the sorrows?” The man asked, and you shrugged. 

“Or better, you got me one for calling me dumb?” He offered, and you pouted and nodded as he sat at the bar next to you. 

“So, what's your name?” He asked. 

“Y/N.” 

“Pretty name for a pretty lady,” he responded, and you simply rolled your eyes. 

“What about you?” 

“Kim. Kim Mingyu,” he said, offering his hand to you, and you took it, shaking it lightly. 

“You think you’re James Bond or something with that introduction?” You joked, and he shrugged. 

“Possibly.” 

“Well, like him, you have plenty of admirers,” you said, gesturing to a group of women and men who were ogling at him. 

“To be fair, I don’t blame them,” you mumbled, the alcohol loosening your lips. 

“Oh? I look good?” Mingyu asked. 

“Oh, you know you’re hot, with this stupid red suit, and your stupid tits on display, and being tall and handsome,” you complained, making him grin. 

“I heard stupid a lot,” Mingyu added. 

“You’re incredibly hot, and I’m sure it makes anyone feel stupid,” you elaborated, making him nod as he took a sip of his drink. 

“Well, you never told me why you’re here,” Mingyu said. 

“Ugh, my friend dragged me here, but she found her catch of the night and ditched me,” you answered, and Mingyu frowned. 

“That’s kind of shitty,” Mingyu noted, and you shrugged. 

“To be fair, that was our ambitious plan, to look hot and get laid,” you admitted taking another sip of your drink. 

“Well, the night is still young,” Mingyu observed. 

“What about you? You’re hot, and I’m sure you have no problem getting someone, so why are you here?” You asked. 

“Well. Honestly? I came here for a business thing, but then I saw you in this lovely dress, and I thought, ‘aww, we match,’ and I wanted to talk to you,” Mingyu replied, and you stared at him. 

“You wanted to talk to me because I wore a dress the same colour as your suit?” 

“Yep.” 

“What if I wore a different colour?” You challenged. 

“I’d still approach you. You’re beautiful,” Mingyu responded. 

“What?” Mingyu asked when you smiled at him. 

“You’re doing better than the other guy who hit on me,” you noted. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, he was giving me terrible pickup lines,” you explained. 

“Oh, but some can be decent,” Mingyu defended. 

“Try me.”

“Tell me, are you tired? Because you’ve been running through my mind all night.” Mingyu said, making you groan. 

“Nope!” 

“Do you have a map? ‘Cause I got lost in your eyes.” 

“Hell, no. Mingyu, these are terrible,” you said, laughing as you swatted his arm, noting how buff he was and imagining what it’d feel like to hold those arms as he pounded into you. 

“Well, I’m usually a lot more direct. I don’t like to waste time.” 

“Oh? Do tell.” 

Mingyu finished his drink and inched closer to you, his lips ghosting your ears, his hand finding yours as he traced it. 

“Kitten, you told me about what your plan was for tonight. Want to make it come true?” Mingyu asked, and you bit your lip to bite back a moan. 

“Oh!” 

“Unless you prefer crappy pickup lines, in that case, hey girl, is that a phone in your back pocket? Because that ass is calling me,” Mingyu said, and you let out a deep sigh, grabbed your drink and finished it. 

“Fine.”

“Fine, what?” Mingyu asked. 

“You can help make my New Years' plan come true, and it’s only because you look sinfully good and not because any of your pickup lines worked,” you responded with a pout. 

“Come on. We’re finding a room in this fancy bar,” Mingyu said, taking your hand and guiding you along with him. He moved smoothly, manoeuvring you out of the crowds and into the nearest storage room. 

Mingyu locked the door behind you before turning to face you. Your back was pressed against a wall, and you were staring– well, undressing him with your eyes. 

“Like what you see?” Mingyu asked, smirking. 

“Shut up, you know you’re hot,” you muttered, making him laugh as he approached you. 

“As are you, kitten. Do you know all I could see was red when you walked into this place tonight?” Mingyu teased. 

“One more lame joke from you, and I’m leaving you with blue balls!” You threatened, making Mingyu grin. 

“So you’ve been thinking about my balls?” Mingyu joked, making you sputter. 

“Come here, kitten, let me taste how sweet that smart mouth is,” Mingyu said as his hands found your waist and pulled you in for a kiss. His soft lips met with yours and pulled you into a searing kiss. His lips moved against yours, and his grip around your waist tightened as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, making you moan, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned further into the kiss, and Mingyu’s hands slid down to your hips, and he pulled away from your lips. 

“Can I?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded impatiently, making him grin. 

“Fuck, you didn’t wear panties?” Mingyu asked as he hiked up your red dress to your waist. 

“I can’t be having panty lines now, can I?” You teased. 

“Yeah, clearly,” Mingyu mumbled as he moved to kneel. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, making Mingyu stand up straight and stare at you. 

“I need to prep you.” 

“Don’t be cocky. I’ll be fine,” you argued, making him smirk. 

“Very apt choice of words, kitten,” Mingyu responded with a grin. 

“Can you just fuck me?” You whined, and Mingyu grinned as he quickly moved to push his trousers down, pulling his hard length out, hissing when the cool air hit his erect member. 

“Gladly, kitten,” Mingyu responded as his arms found your waist. He easily lifted you into his arms, pressed you into the wall, and guided his thick length into you. 

“Fuck,” you gasped. You whimpered in both pain and pleasure; he was so big. 

“Could have used prep, right?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“With pleasure.”

“Pun intended?” You asked, and Mingyu only grinned in response. 

“Of course, kitten,” Mingyu answered before thrusting into you. 

Mingyu’s movements were rough and quick, but his thrusts were precise, and you were falling apart on his cock, embarrassingly quickly. 

“You sound so fucking wet. Can you hear yourself?” Mingyu asked, his lips ghosting your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck. You could only whimper in response. 

“Imagine if you squirted on my cock. God, I’ll walk back in there with your cum all over my trousers,” Mingyu continued to spew absolute filth as he fucked you, making you moan at the possibility. 

“Inside,” you moaned, and Mingyu swore he could have cum right then and there. 

“Fuck, okay,” Mingyu breathed out as he took a second to collect himself and then continued to pound into your cunt. 

“So good,” you moaned as you held onto his neck, possibly scratching him, as he thrust into you. One particularly hard thrust sent you ever the edge, making you cum, whimpering, and clenching around him. Mingyu came a few seconds after you and held you in his arms.

The two of you just stayed that way for a few seconds, and you were about to speak when you heard muffled cheering from outside. You looked at Mingyu, confused, who simply smiled at you. 

“Happy New Year,” Mingyu said as he pressed a soft kiss against your lips, making you smile into the kiss.

“Well, I guess I started the year with a bang?” You joked, making Mingyu laugh.

“Who’s making the shitty jokes now?” Mingyu asked. 

“It’s the sex. Your crappy humour is contagious,” you defended, and Mingyu only smiled. 

“Uh, do you want to put me down?” You asked. 

“Oh fuck, sorry!” 

Mingyu gently placed you down on the floor, helping to pull your dress down as he pulled his trousers up. 

“Pity, I didn’t soak your trousers,” you mumbled as you patted out the creases in your dress. 

“I mean, there’s always a next time?” Mingyu said, his voice low and hopeful. You placed a hand on his toned bicep, making him turn to face you. 

“Next time?”

“Well, how about you spend the first day of the new year with me?” Mingyu asked. 

“Oh?” You teased. “What’s in it for me?” 

“More orgasms, shitty jokes, and you’ll not want to spend it with anyone else,” Mingyu responded. 

“Lead the way.”

[crooked-wasteland]

Hazbin Hotel Live Blog: Overture

. While I am being kind to the show as it is, I cannot push out of my mind the fact that this is still Vivienne Medrano, and while this seems to be an interesting direction the series is considering to take the story, I am lacking any intrigue. Medrano has a knack for interesting ideas, but once executed are often trimmed down from all nuance and then played in the most straight forward and storybook fashion.

Evil existed before and separate from Lucifer

Eve is linked to the root of evil through the animation

Dichotomy of Lilith and Lucifer

Why does Heaven think Hell will rise up?

Charlie is reading the storybook to herself. Aloud. And the reason is because she’s like a child seeking comfort. Also Charlie’s delivery of “Pretty worked up” is just feeling off. Like isn’t this supposed to be a somber moment? Why is it delivered so chipper? The pilot had her crying and singing a lamentation. Downgrade.

Info dump dialogue

“This kingdom was something she really cared about.”

Vaggie’s voice is such a downgrade. She sounds so uninterested.

“Daddy issues by fixing you” So alastor knows about Charlie’s family situation already.

The lineart around Alastor is so distracting. It’s so bizarrely thick.

I wish there was no dialogue

Her dad calls her but she is supposed to have a strained relationship.

I feel like Medrano doesn’t know what Angel Dust is. As in the actual drug. PCP is not Cocaine.

That was the worst segue into a song I ever saw.

“If you dont mind the smell, it’s a happy day in hell.” I hate this line.

Vaggie just never sounds right, does she? Her singing is so nasal dominate it doesn’t sound like her throaty modal voice.

What was the contract? What did it say? Why even have Charlie sign anything if we have no concept of what that is? It is such a rip off from Ariel’s contract in the Little Mermaid that it feels more like an Easter egg than relevant to the story actively being told. You need to show why the actions happening are taking place, you cant just do things and expect us to pick up the pieces for you. Are you trying to get across that Heaven is full of bureaucracy and paperwork? There is no receptionist and no other person in the building until she signs ONE paper. You failed at portraying an overabundance of bureaucratic red tape and it is distracting and infuriating. All I see are the better DISNEY MOVIES that were clearly just plagiarized. Not an homage, not inspired. Plagiarized.

Lucifer calls Charlie to meet Adam. Adam says he knows. So this doesn’t feel like this is Charlie filling in, the way the dialogue is written is that it was specifically planned for Charlie to meet Adam.

Everything has a gradient.

I bet $15 that the Dickmaster portion of Adam’s dialogue was Alex Brightman’s improv. I was not impressed by his Kaiju Dick improv in Oops and this is just as flaccid. Pun intended.

There is a clear discccrepency in talent between Alex and Erika. He has such a smoother voice and range while Erika feels like a Disney understudy where every delivery is pretty much identical to the last. Like the songs themselves are not doing her any favors. They range from bad to mediocre, and even in the better songs, there is always one horrifically bad lyric that just ruins the entire experience.

I like Lute. She feels like Peridot.

RIP Katie Killjoy.

Nifty is cute. The joke for her had a lot of potential of being hilarious but didn’t meet my threshold of comedy due to lacking a feel for Nifty. Imagine if she was in every scene with Vaggie talking her head off and never shutting up. Then when Vaggie is like, “If anyone can sell this hotel, it’s Nifty.” And we had this foundation that Nifty is known for being a huge chatterbox only to then be dead silent when the camera is on her. It would have been hilarious. But we see her once and she has one singular line previous. So it just feels like a cheap visual gag.

As a musical, it is lackluster. I see that Evil is something separate from Lucifer and something he dislikes. Lucifer is said to see free will as a spring of creativity, but humans used it to suck and that killed Lucifer’s love of life. In the meantime, Lilith is empowered by Hell. Hell fuels her sense of freedom, which she spreads through her “songs”. Only for her to just vanish I guess. She just hopes out without a word, Charlie says she must be doing something important over the last 7 years, but no inclination on what important things Lilith would be doing. Additionally, Lilith is said to have loved Hell, like Charlie. So it sets up this idea that Lucifer dislikes Hell or even hates it, while Lilith revels in it. Alluding to their marriage falling apart from this dissonance. At the same time, Lucifer calls Charlie to meet with Heaven, despite the pilot being canon. So we get the impression that Charlie and Lucifer had a falling out (“Maybe dad was right.”) but she doesn’t have much more than surprise at her father calling. Then he just sets up this meeting for her to meet with Adam off screen entirely. It is unclear how this was conveyed, but Lucifer doesn’t believe in Charlie and her meeting Adam has nothing at all to do with her hotel.

But the way Adam talks about the meeting is unusual in that it gives the impression that it wasn’t about Charlie “filling in”, but that this whole meeting was specifically set for Charlie and Adam. This is compounded by how the ending reads like they didn’t know if the angel was dead until that moment. So the extermination being moved up has nothing to do with the angel’s death. Maybe I’m wrong, but this all feels really disjointed.

But Lute really is just Peridot. So much so that when asked what I liked about the episode, I literally said “Peridot”, not Lute. The one good aspect of this episode is another stolen concept from a better show with a more competent creator. But I also like Alex Brightman’s singing. He is very talented and he does elevate the material by really playing with his delivery, but it’s still at best Mid due to the weak lyrics,

3/10

[hawkstincan]

* It's not that Trent's father wasn't supportive of his career choices. He just hinted more and more that he was getting older, and Trent was a smart cookie and would work out how to run their family shop quite fast if he just gave himself a task to do so. He'd sell if he must, of course, yet he preferred not to, so think about it lad, okay?  

* Trent really thinks about it. A lot. And then thinks how his last pitch for an article was denied. How it won't get enough reaction from readers fast enough. News is fast these days. No time for digging and deep diving. Write it, publish it, (make a topic for a day or two, a couple of weeks if you're lucky) and move on.  Trent loves writing. But. He loves writing big meaningful stories. Loves digging. Loves to be edgy. Loves to make a difference… Maybe his dad has a point after all. He wasn’t excited for his job for too long. 

* And his dad goes and breaks his leg. It's so perfectly timed that Trent even suspected… no, his dad would never, would he? 

* Trent spends his time off in his family flower shop. He thought he forgot by now how it works, how to make an arrangements, forgot everything about flower language (most of it, if he's being honest, but it's not like people care about deeper meaning than ‘colors look good together’ these days so he's not too eager to dust up his knowledge) 

* Time flies and Trent is surprised to realize… he doesn't want to run back to his own once upon a time dream job. His father never let him live this down. And yet he's happier in their cozy shop much more than he was at The Independent lately. 

* He quits after this realization. No time like the present, right? And he's afraid he'll change his mind if he gives himself time to think about it too much. 

* He misses writing. And yet he’s happy with his new routing. It’s mostly calm (except for some annoying clientele but that one was expected). Spending more time with his kid is a nice bonus too. She spends some of her after school time in the shop just like he was in his childhood. 

* And then he sees that the shop across the road has new owners. Tattoo parlor of all things! He waits in horror for drunk crowds, bikers and pissed off parents of barely adults getting their first tattoo without permission, to appear. 

* He’s not proud of stereotypical thinking. In his defense he’d never been to a real tattoo parlor and all his knowledge comes from movies and shows.     

* Naturally when he sees Ted Lasso for the first time he thinks it’s just a client looking for a nice bouquet of flowers. Nothing about the guy screams tattoo artist! He’s a bit surprised after full name introduction but cuts it to an American thing.   Lasso picks quite a nice arrangement of flowers. Trent vaguely recognizes the meaning of them. Something about familial love. Lasso bubbles so much that all Trent needs to do to have a resemblance of conversation is to nod in the right places and give little smiles. It’s not unpleasant yet Trent’s a bit sad. He’s so out of practice. A year later he’d asked questions of his own. At the moment he doesn’t want to. He just counts rhymes and puns in his head. It’s close to forty. Trent against his better judgment feels impressed.  

* And his jaw literally drops while Lasso bids his farewells with “see you later neighbor” crosses the road and disappears in a newly opened tattoo parlor. No. Fucking. Way. He doesn’t ask IS THIS A FUCKING JOKE? aloud. Mostly because he has no one to ask.   

* He feels a bit better about his assumptions (you know what they say about assumptions, Trent?) after he meets Roy fifty-shades-of-fuck Kent. This guy checks half of his stereotype boxes. 

* Beard… Beard is totally something. He stares. He rarely speaks. He reads when he’s not working. And Trent is dying to set up chemates date for him and his father. They either kill each other or become ride or die. 

* The latter happens and Trent regrets some of his life choices.

* Keeley at first somehow looks even more out of place then Ted. And then she takes off her fluffy pink jacket and Trent chuckles to himself. Nope. She is right where she is supposed to be. 

* Much later he learns that most of her flowers were tattooed by Ted. That’s his specialty. 

* Much earlier Trent learns that Ted knows all about flower language. Maybe even more then Trent bothered to learn. It's a bit annoying (insert flirting with flowers from Ted and miscommunication on Trent’s part).

* Their kids get along like a house on fire (once almost literally)

* Tent has no idea how other parlors function. But he knows that Ted never tattoos on the first visit. Yes, laser tattoo removal exists. But Ted thinks that this must be a thought out decision. Tattoos aren’t cheap. Removal too. It’s easier for everyone not to do it if you ain’t gonna keep it. He never works with drunk people. The tv trop may be popular, but in real life it can be dangerous. Big no-no. All facial tattoos include long conversations about age, dream job and public reaction.  

* Trent realizes how fucked he is quite early in their fast building friendship. 

* He says nothing. It’s easier not to rock the boat. He hates to lose what he has by then. 

* He stoically ignores Beard’s stares. 

* And Roy’s brand new tones of ‘fuck’. 

* Naturally their mutual pining ends after Ted kisses him. 

* Every. Damn. Person. In. His. Circle. Of. Friends. And. Family. Are. Assholes. They will never let him live down the fact that Trent apparently missed all Ted’s 'flower flirting'.

[punemy-spotted]

cactus, abelia, daffodil, sage, edelweiss, jasmine, palm tree, nutmeg, papyrus 😁

Oh! So many!! Thank you, friend, this was very sweet of you!! I will try (and inevitably fail) to keep from rambling too terribly, but know that I love and appreciate you so dearly for this!!

This got long, so answers are under the cut! 💖💞💖

Get to know me!

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

I'm learning French! All over again. I am haunted by the Duolingo owl and its reminder to keep my streak up and have so far done pretty well for someone who usually absolutely sucks at remembering to do things on a daily basis!

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

I answered this here, but basically: I do not! I'm not much of a jewelry wearer, in truth. I tend to fidget, and in fidgeting, break things. I do wear jewelry often though, mostly when I need to look professional or if I'm going to an event — my mother's costume jewelry from India is... not an everyday thing though, for sure.

daffodil ⇢ do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them?

I have a younger brother! He's the smarter one, the much more put-together one, and the definitely way better at his job one. He's in college now, about to graduate, and having all manner of adventures I was too scared to have at his age.

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

Music really gets to me. I grew up really immersed in religion and so many of our prayers are "sung" rather than said aloud, and so the way I learned the history of my faith is through music. I find myself closest to the Divine when I am listening to music, and growing up as part of an Abrahamic faith, I do resonate with Christian allegory because those are stories I remember being sung during majlis too. Every prayer I remember is because it was sung to me when I was learning it, and to this day, I keep those same tunes.

edelweiss ⇢ how’d you think of your url/username? what’s it associated with to you?

Puns. Oh lord, so many puns. My username was something handed to me, after I made so many puns I earned the name Puntessa (Pun + Contessa) and then the name Punemy (Pun + Enemy) as well as numerous jokes about them spotting me the moment they saw [Puntessa is typing...] on Discord.

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

There's this Bollywood film, Bajirao Mastani, that I absolutely adored. It was cinematic and beautiful, the costume and set design were sublime, the story was heartbreaking, the music still resonates with me... and then the ending happened and it was just so absolutely poorly done that I can never watch it again because I'm convinced the ending was when they ran out of money and just gave up. Awful awful awful CGI.

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

I mean like... all of them? Listen. As a Captain America fan, as someone who considers Steve Rogers to be their comfort character, the fact that I am head over heels in love with Helmut Zemo is an actual problem and I should probably feel guilty but I don't. I'm gonna just... make it work, one day.

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

Chaotically. I have books everywhere. Laundry that still needs folding. None of the posters I bought to put up in my room are actually put up. It feels a bit like a dorm room that I keep telling myself I'll decorate one day, but am often too busy/too tired to actually decorate. Maybe if I settle somewhere more permanent I'll hire someone to decorate my house in the dark mushroomcore aesthetic I desire.

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

The first song that came up was Lay this Body Down by Sam Lee and I've had that one on repeat for days working on Sixteen Tons so I associate it with that fic, with exhaustion and giving just a bit too much of the self, with that nasty habit of people-pleasing that so many are afflicted with these days, and with becoming the monsters our parents make of us, baring our throats to the sky as we cry out for something more than the inevitable.

You know. Healthy thoughts.

[lasersheith]

January 2024 Reading Review

I read 7 books and 2 short stories in January and wanted to spew my thoughts into the void

The Books:

Witch King by Martha Wells (414 pages)

The Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas (405 pages)

Holes by Louis Sachar (240 pages)

The Reapers are the Angels by Alden Bell (225 pages)

Feed by Mira Grant (571 pages)

Deadline by Mira Grant (581 pages)

Blackout by Mira Grant (512 pages) The short stories:

As Yet Unsent by Tamsyn Muir (26 pages)

The Mysterious Study of Doctor Sex by Tamsyn Muir (25 pages)

My Thoughts:

Witch King

I loved Murderbot Diaries so I was really excited to see Martha Wells also writes fantasy, and this book has a really cool magic system regarding witches and demons and demon offspring that can move their souls into different human bodies under certain circumstances. There are some cool things to think about in this book, regarding self image and reflection, friendship, love, sacrifice, family of origin, and family of choice.

I wanted to love this but I will absolutely settle for liking it. I thought the characters were all really great but something wasn't working for me in the pacing and the jumping back and forth between past and present. Individual scenes and story beats were great though. Somewhere in the 3.5-4 stars range for me.

The Sunbearer Trials

Very cute Middlegrade/YA meso-american mythology style spin on something like Percy Jackson meets Hunger Games. The main character is a young trans half god but his god mom isn't one of the biggest baddest coolest gods so he thinks he's a nobody and turns out to be the big special boy etc. It was cute, I liked how many queer characters were included and nobody made a big deal about it, and the bully character(s) didn't misgender or deadname anyone but were still assholes. There were some clunky trans allegories that could have just been text and some missed opportunities for better character development but overall I liked it and will definitely read the sequel. 3.5 stars.

Holes

I read this in like 7th grade and remembered it being really fucking good and turns out middle school also had impeccable taste. It's just a really good book. There's so much book per book too, we follow essentially 3 different converging storylines and fall in love with 5-8 wonderful characters all in the span of less than 250 pages. Absolutely 5 stars.

The Reapers Are the Angels

Woof. This is a book that takes place in several years after a zombie apocalypse and the main character is a girl somewhere around 16 years old that's been orphaned and her adopted brother died and she has to move on from her place of safety when zombies get to it. I know a lot of zombie books are supposed to be really dark and gritty and edgy but this one was just weird to me. I think there are things to be considered about the nature of humanity, obsession vs love, loss and grief, and pretty typical zombie genre themes and such here, but I didn't care for it. A generous 2.5 stars. Did not continue the series.

Feed/Deadline/Blackout

Also zombie books, a trilogy. Reading this in 2024 was bizarre at times. It's set decades after the zombie "apocalypse" where the US has basically "learned to live with the virus" and follows a team of reporters who score the job of reporting on the campaign of a republican presidential candidate. If you can make it past the soul-crushing comparisons to the state of modern US politics and public health, this is a very fun series. It's also grim and edgy and dark but never loses its sense of humor. It's weirdly more a political conspiracy series with zombies than a zombie series, but in a good way? Almost every reporter runs a blog with some kind of pun in the name. The author makes some BOLD choices and had me gasping aloud sometimes, crying other times, and laughing my ass off in between. Overall 4.5 stars.

Short Stories:

Both of them are from the Locked Tomb series and were perfect. You should read the Locked Tomb series. Seriously. It's so good. If you're reading this, you're on tumblr, so I know you have at least one of the following if not all of them: religious trauma, colonialism/imperialism trauma, at least one gay situationship that almost killed you, and/or a thing for hot girls with swords. 5 stars.

[chrononautintraining]

2. The Discworld audiobooks are great. You wouldn't think a novel with so many footnotes would make for a good audiobook, but all of the readers do very well, in my opinion.

When I first tried to read Discworld, I started with The Color of Magic. The second time I tried to read Discworld, I started with The Color of Magic. The third time I tried to read Discworld, I made it all the way to Equal Rites before quitting. Then one day I was bored and picked up Maskerade in a secondhand book shop without quite realizing it was a Discworld novel and a lifelong love affair began. The absolute best way to get into them is to find the one lampooning something you love (Phantom of the Opera in Maskerade, if you happen to be a musical theater enjoyer like myself) and go from there. If that makes you nervous, allow me to make the following suggestion.

Start with the City Watch books. I like the Witches arc best, personally, but Pratchett doesn't get them quite right on the first pass (Equal Rites). He firmly and completely fixes those errors later in the series, because he grows as a writer and realizes where he went wrong. So keep that in mind when reading the early books and don't try to start the series there. Start with the City Watch. Here's an order for folks who like things mostly chronological, to whom disordered reading doesn't come naturally.

Guards, Guards - Meet Sam Vimes. Tumblr loves him and you will too.

Men At Arms

Small Gods - Not a Watch book, but in a minute, you'll need to know how belief and theology work in this universe, so you'll be glad to read this one here.

Moving Pictures - meet Gaspode and Detritus, a small dog and a stupid troll, in this delightful take-down of the movie industry. Much like religion, they're about to be important.

Feet of Clay

Jingo

Mort - You'll want to know Death a little better before he and Sam Vimes hang out. Read some of the Death books here.

Reaper Man

Soul Music - my favorite pun in a series built on puns is in this one. I laugh aloud every time.

The Fifth Elephant - Sam Vimes, dwarves, werewolves, and Death, oh my.

The Truth - News media comes to the Discworld. Read this one here so you know where the reporters in later books come from.

Thief of Time - Meet Lu Tze and the monks of History

Night Watch - Say goodbye to your heart when Lu Tze meets Sam Vimes. Okay. You love Discworld now, you know how good it gets. Of course you do. You just read my favorite book of all time. Now bear in mind that the Witch books get *really* good, and start reading those.

Equal Rites

Wyrd Sisters - this is where the witches start to shine

Witches Abroad

Lords and Ladies - fairies! FAIRIES! Proper, well done, terrifying fairies.

Maskerade - a night at the opera

Hogfather - a fun Death book to slot in here as we get deeper into the lore of belief that makes Discworld work.

Carpe Jugulum

Monstrous Regiment - this is a true stand alone novel. It barely even mentions Ankh Morpork, although technically Sam Vimes is a character. Read it here. It's one of the absolute best in the series. It's so, so fun, and I'm about to send you back to the beginning again because apparently you're a completionist who wants to read things in mostly chronological order. So you need to know some things that you can only learn alongside Rincewind.

The Color of Magic - stay strong

The Light Fantastic - stay strong

Sourcery - okay, we can move along now

Pyramids - assassins! time stuff! I almost made you read this before Men At Arms, but you weren't powerful enough yet.

Eric

Thud! - Let's take a break to visit another Eric, the travel writer who took 100 Walks in the Ramtops. While we're following him through Koom Valley, let's check back in with the Watch and resolve some ancient racial tensions.

Interesting Times

The Last Continent

Going Postal - We've been reading a lot of Wizard stuff, let's take another break to give a con artist control of a post office. GNU Terry Pratchett.

The Last Hero

The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

Making Money - remember that con artist? Let's give him the banking system, too.

Unseen Academicals - Foot the Ball! Is it weird that my favorite book about academia is the one about sports?

Snuff! - Sam Vimes and some goblins in the countryside

Raising Steam - Trains come to the Discworld So, I saved some Witch books that perhaps could have gone earlier. One might even argue that one or two truly belong earlier. But I saved them for now. The point of Discworld, bizarre as it may be, is to grow and change and leave things a little better than they were. You know that con artist who runs the post office, the banks, and the trains now? He's going to run more things in the future, on the mundane side of things. Maybe he won't do the same job Vetinari does, but he'll do well. Our final set of books deals with Tiffany, one of the inheritors of the the magical side of things. She's a child and these books are YA, but they're really, really good. Terry Pratchett knew his time was coming to an end, and he gave this series a gentle resting place with Tiffany Aching.

The Wee Free Men

A Hat Full of Sky

Wintersmith

I Shall Wear Midnight

The Shepherd's Crown

Discworld really is one of the most complete, beautiful tapestries of a world, with an incredibly satisfying conclusion. Once you love it, there's plenty of bonus content for you to enjoy like Where's My Cow? and The World of Poo. Dive in anywhere. These really are novels and each one stands alone. That said, I think this order will help you catch all the self referential humor without forcing you to start with The Color of Magic. No one deserves that (affectionate).

I HAVE NEVER READ THE DISCWORLD SERIES!!

Now that I've got that out of the way, I am interested in reading them. But I have a few questions.

1. Is publication order the best way to read them? I know most of them can be read as a stand alone, but I want to check.

2. Are the audiobooks good? As in can I intake the books audibly instead of visually, or are the audiobooks best saved for a reread? *Or are they just bad?*

I feel like if I can get these two questions answered then I can continue with my life.

[a-lil-perspective]

70 Encouragements/Tips For The Writer:

A/N: Rules don’t exist. These are real and personal and stem from a deteriorating, exhausted Writer who is here to tell you (and herself) that you are amazing and keep going. I hope you find some encouragement within.

Your mental health comes first and foremost.

Indulge and embrace your creative writing pieces when they come (and when they don’t). Especially when they don’t.

Suffering from Writer’s Block or fluctuating hyperfixation? Me too. So is your favorite author. Welcome to the Writer’s Block Party (all my uwus if you see the pun).

Did you spend five hours on this one segment, forget the last time you ate, develop chapped lips, dry eyes, and a stiff back (time to get up and move), bang your head on the wall, laugh, cry, fidget, take your ADHD meds, deviate to watch YouTube, have an epiphany, curse in frustration and wonder why the hell you do this to yourself? Congratulations, you’re a Writer.

Embrace all the not-so-glamorous sides of writing, and accept the fact they’re going to happen time over again.

When you say “just one more line” and it’s 2:00 AM, I’ll be here to remind you to “go to sleep” (because I’m also depriving myself lol).

Actually, sleeping helps your mind feel refreshed, and it’s good for your health. If you’re struggling with a particular segment, one of the best things you can do is just put a cap on it for the time being, put in a placeholder, and get some shut eye. I know you don’t want to. But you will feel so much better and have more clarity and energy to continue when you wake. Trust me.

More often than not, those words you “just didn’t write down fast enough and now forgot” end up revealing themselves to you later in a much more profound way. Give the words time to get ready. They’re just spiffing up before coming to visit. :)

Be proud of yourself and your prose. Writing is an amazing part of who you are.

That trope has been written 1000 times before? Make it 1001.

You’ve already written this scenario? Write it again.

You’ve just written a single sentence. Now sit back for moment and think: you just wrote something brand new, never before seen. Nobody out there will ever write that sentence or formulate those thoughts the exact same way. You are a unique, mind-blowing, awe-inspiring human being.

Bask in the excitement that comes with a completed piece. Reflect on what you learned throughout and celebrate the little victories.

Don’t be afraid to ask for feedback, but also understand that you might not always get it, and that is OK.

Please re-read your work. Be gentle with yourself. You had to write that very first piece to get to where you are now. Love the process.

Your personal writing success is not based off of kudos or likes or reblogs.

There is no right or wrong way to write.

There is no such thing as “good” writing.

Improvement is becoming of everyone so get comfy, strap in. The journey of a Writer is a lifelong one. Here’s to many more works ahead.

Don’t mourn the words you did or didn’t write. Celebrate the ones you will.

One day, you’ll read a piece that will blow you away—and it will be yours.

There is nothing “shameful” about reblogging your own writing works.

I promise you’ll find your “wow” piece—either in something you’ve already written, or something yet to come.

Baby. Please don’t write out of spite. You’re better than that.

You are just as valid/deserving as the next Writer. And you do belong.

If you feel sad/unworthy when sharing your works or interacting with others’, get to the root of why. Writing should be fun, rewarding, and relaxing. Not shameful, embarrassing, or a chore.

Writing (fanfiction, specifically) is labeled as “transformative works”. Self-explanatory, right? However, if you notice the transformative part begin to have a personal effect on you—a negative one—it’s time to take a step back.

Right now, I can name a single quality you possess: diligence. How do I know? Because you’re a Writer, and the two go hand-in-hand.

Got that single scene in your head but you haven’t completed or even began all the chapters preceding? Bruh. Jot that down right now. You don’t need 20k words beforehand.

Embrace your writing mood swings. The stray, sweet and condensed blurbie. The ideal, bridging drabble. The solid, substantial oneshot. The hefty, elaborate 10k word chapter. Appreciate everything in-between, and that you are capable of all of it.

Nobody remembers that extra word or typo or stray speech mark back all the way back in chapter 3. Tell the little monster in your head to go to hell.

You’re not a weirdo for making facial expressions and mulling through your dialogue aloud. You. Are. A. Writer.

It’s OK if the Readers can’t always see exactly what you envisioned in your head, or the full extent of the picture you painted. We all see colors differently.

Don’t be afraid to experiment with your writing.

In fact, challenge yourself to dabble into a new plot/trope/concept every day, even if only for a few minutes. You may discover you love writing it.

There’s no rush to finish/begin any written work. If you take your time, you will make your mark. You’re not falling behind or running late. Slow down and wait for it. :)

Three cheers for hiatus.

Listen to your body and mind, know your limits and when it’s time to take a break.

Actually take a break. :)

If you feel like you’re falling stagnant in creativity, looking to/revisiting other forms of creative media can help encourage the flow.

Ask for encouragement, and be at peace with asking.

Take shelter in fellow writers. Uplift each other always.

You are/will be someone’s favorite author. :)

You don’t have anything to prove. You have something to share.

Someone is thinking about your work right now.

Someone started a series because they drew inspiration from you.

Personal writing style can reflect a lot on the state of one’s mental health. Try to always be attentive to that of your own.

Self-validation must be cultivated early on or nothing will ever work.

Freestyle every once in a while. Write a snippet, timed, and go—without editing. Write the first thing that comes to mind and go from there. Do it all the way through the set time. When it stops, you’ll find yourself unable to. 3,800 words here we come. :)

Not everything needs an outline. :)

It is completely normal to write your story out of order.

Create guidelines for yourself. If they aren’t working, toss ‘em.

Word vomiting can help you feel better (it’s just how it sounds). By clearing all those jumbled thoughts and scattered concepts, you achieve a clearer objective. Try it sometime.

A rough draft is supposed to be rough.

Sometimes the words come to you quicker than others. Be patient. That is merely the construct of a Writer’s mind. You’re a beautiful enigma.

A sentence written is a story progressing.

Writing is an endurance sport. You must pace yourself and exercise it daily.

You are still a Writer even when the words aren’t on the actual page.

You’re not obligated to a writing/posting schedule.

As you progress in your journey and gain more awareness, don’t sacrifice your style. Those beginning works are what define you. Hold onto them and don’t ever let them go.

You’re the only one cringing—

Remember that sometimes words are elusive and you don’t always have control over them, and that is OK. Sometimes they write themselves. Sometimes your characters come to life and break out into dance across your page. Dance with them. You can wrangle them back when the music stops. :)

There is nothing condemning or embarrassing about asking for a beta. Allow someone to help carry the load.

Allow people to cheer you on—even if they don’t read your work.

It’s OK if your writing style isn’t someone else’s preference.

Be your biggest cheerleader. Sometimes you are all you have.

You don’t need anyone’s approval except your own.

You love that trope/concept/story you just wrote? That’s all that matters. The end.

You will never write good. You will write you. And that is good.

Above all else: remember to write for you.🤍

[xanthippe74]

Five Self-Recs Tag Game

Thanks to @ghaniblue for tagging me in her five favs post! Here are my five, in no particular order, with a few words about why I’m proud of each of them—plus a little piece of trivia for funsies.

🔹 A Hiss to Build a Dream On: My first completed fic! I was very proud to have written anything at all, much less 10K words, after literal decades of being unable to put the stories bouncing around my head onto paper. Also, I love Ron in this. His dialogue made me laugh so much as I was writing it.

Bonus trivia: Who knew that T-shirt and coffee mug websites were the best places to find terrible puns about any subject?

🔹 Knockturn Soulmates Series (Vortex and Riptide): I’m proud of my worldbuilding for these stories, especially the political and social factors that shape Knockturn Alley and its residents. I reread both stories a few months ago, and I think I saw real improvement in my writing in the 18 months or so between them. It was very encouraging!

Bonus trivia: When the idea of Draco in Knockturn Alley x Auror Harry first started floating around in my head, I thought about writing it as a secret relationship fic instead of a Soulmate AU. But the latter tied in with Draco’s redemption story much better, so I’m very glad I went in that direction.

🔹 Follow the Water: I’m proud of how much I was able to enjoy the writing process for this one. I felt like something lovely was unfolding as I wrote it, which was magical. It probably helped that it’s a wholesome, feel-good story. I’m trying to remind myself (as I work on this year’s HD Wireless fic) to fall in love with my own stories and not worry about how they will be received.

Bonus trivia: I was heavily inspired by the children’s books I read aloud to my kids when they were littles, especially Arthur Ransome’s “Swallows and Amazons” series.

🔹 On Your Shore: This was the first time I attempted a bit of mystery/suspense in a story, and I think it turned out well. I’m also proud of the pacing and sticking to my resolution not to throw Astoria under the (metaphorical!) bus to achieve a Drarry HEA.

Bonus trivia: I was very close to giving Draco a dog to bring to the Outer Hebrides, but decided it wouldn’t fit into the serious tone of the story. Instead, Lillian the cat got a role and I saved my elderly corgi idea for Safe As Houses.

🔹 The Last of What the World Left You: I’m proud that I stuck it out and finished this one. I really struggled to maintain the grim/angsty tone and keep Harry in Grumpy Hermit mode (as opposed to the earnest, kind Harry that I usually write). And at one point, I needed to create a spreadsheet to sort out the order of the scenes in the middle two chapters, they were such a mess. But I did it! And I’m happy with the result.

Bonus trivia: I’m still waiting for someone to comment on the meaning of the dog’s name and tell me that I’m very clever, lol.

I’m not sure who hasn’t been tagged for this one yet, but if anyone wants to do it, please give it a go and tag me so I see it!

[dilly-oh]

Trashy Romance Novel

    “Naruto, you frigging idiot,” Iruka began hotly, barging into the hospital room, “of all the stupid, brainless things you could have done, this is by far the-”

    He stopped. 

    The person lying in the small bed was definitely not Naruto. It was a grown-ass man with messy gray hair and a faded scar over one eye, the sterile white sheets pulled up over his nose, apparently sound asleep. Iruka stared at him for a long moment, dumbfounded, before it clicked. 

    Oh shit, he thought. This is the wrong room. I'm in the wrong room. I need to hurry up and leave before- 

    The stranger's eyes cracked open and he squinted up at Iruka in confusion.

    “...Who're you?” he croaked out. Iruka managed a rather articulate gurgle of dismay, frozen in sheer mortification. He considered the distance between him and the IV drip, wondering if he could dose the man back to unconsciousness before he could scream or buzz for a nurse. “Are those for me?” the man asked, sitting up in bed to regard the bouquet of flowers in Iruka's arms. He opened his mouth to disagree, but then the sheet slipped off the man's face, and Iruka suddenly thought giving him the flowers might not be such a bad idea. He definitely deserved a thank you after gifting him with...that. He didn't even protest as the alarmingly handsome stranger reached out and took the bundle of flowers, opening the card on top. 

    “You're a dumbass. Love, Iruka.” he read aloud, then looked up at Iruka, batting his eyes. “Aww, babe, you shouldn't have.”

    “Whoa whoa WHOA!” Iruka finally blurted out, his face burning half from embarrassment at the situation, half from the thinly-veiled flirting. “I'm sorry, sir, there's been a mistake. I'm in the wrong room and-”

    “You mean you aren't my doting husband I tragically forgot about due to amnesia and now you have to win back my love by passionately recreating the story of our romantic union?”

    “Excuse me, WHAT-”

    “Sorry, I've been reading trashy romance novels. They're the only books this hospital has. Can't blame me for trying.” The man shrugged, then reluctantly handed back the bouquet. “Who's the lucky person they're actually for? Must be someone real special if you're calling them a dumbass to their face.”

    “My kid brother,” Iruka explained with a sigh. “He's here with a head injury.”

    “Ouch.” The man winced in sympathy. “Poor kid.”

    “Not really. He head-butted a brick wall.” 

    “...May I ask why?”

    “Because his stupid boyfriend walked into it and he had to, and I quote, 'defend his honor'.” Iruka paused, looking the man up and down. Despite being a bit on the pale side, he looked perfectly fine, pun very much intended. It was almost unfair how well he pulled off the hospital gown (although Iruka would much rather be the one pulling it off, wink wink, nudge nudge). “So...what're you in for?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Was...was it the crappy romance novels? Did they rot your brain?”

    “I have an extremely rare, aggressive form of cancer with only two weeks left to live and the only cure is a kiss from my one true love...” The man swooned back onto the pillow and looked expectantly up at Iruka, who rolled his eyes. 

    “Yeah they definitely did-”

    “Alright you got me. Broke my leg.” He pulled the sheet off his lower half, revealing his legs, one of which was wrapped in a cast, propped up on some pillows. Several encouraging words from friends were scrawled on the white surface in marker, one of them a jarring green highlighter. It almost hurt Iruka's eyes to look at it. 

    “...How did you break it?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity. 

    “I heroically threw myself in front of a speeding car in order to save the life of my beloved-” 

    “Okay how did you really break it?”

    “Tripped chasing after my pug at the park,” the man admitted with a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

    “...Is the dog okay?” Iruka asked after a long pause.

    The stranger burst out laughing. It was a nice laugh, warm and contagious enough to elicit a chuckle out of Iruka, who was growing more and more intrigued. He couldn't deny the spark of attraction he felt for the other man, spontaneous as it was, and it seemed to be reciprocated. He didn't even know his name, but something about the man made Iruka want to know more about him. Maybe this was like some trashy romance novel, where the two would-be lovers met under unusual circumstances and fell instantly in-

    “Hey, Kakashi,” a man with short brown hair said, suddenly walking into the room, “I brought the next three volumes of your shitty porn series from the hospital library and a couple pairs of clean underwear, so you can stop fucking texting me the specific style and brand you want from home, you're so damn picky-” He stopped dead as he caught sight of Iruka, pausing for a beat, then glanced at the man in the bed, his eyes darting nervously between the two. “Umm...am I...interrupting something?”

    A cold pit of ice yawned open in Iruka's stomach. 

    Oh my GOD. Here he was, borderline flirting with some stranger in a random hospital room, when obviously the man already had a boyfriend and Iruka was just making a complete ass of himself. The flirting had probably been misinterpretation on his part anyway, and if not, the guy was a total dick. Either way, enough was enough. His face aflame with rage and shame, Iruka spun towards the door. 

    “I need to go.”

    “Hey, wait!” Kakashi or whatever his name was called after him. 

    Iruka was already out the door, ignoring the man's cries. Screw him, and screw Naruto, too. He was the cause of this whole mess. Iruka would just text him later. He was probably making out with Sasuke anyway and wouldn't even notice his brother hadn't popped in to visit. Iruka needed out of this hospital NOW. He turned towards the stairs, immediately got lost, and spent the next five minutes growing increasingly flustered as he stormed through the winding hallways, desperately searching for the exit. Why the fuck was the hospital so damn BIG-

    “Hey! Iruka! Hold up!”

    Iruka spun around to see Kakashi speeding towards him in a wheelchair, his boyfriend dutifully pushing him down the hallway at a dead run, IV dangling after him on its cord like a faithful dog. The wheelchair stopped with an audible squeal in front of him.

    “What- where did- did you steal that?!” Iruka hissed in outrage. 

    “Of course not, don't be silly,” Kakashi protested, sounding offended. “The guy it belongs to was asleep in his bed. I'm just borrowing it. I'll return it later. Anyway, Iruka-”

    “Were you flirting with me in there?” Iruka demanded, cutting him off. “Be honest.”

    “Abso-fucking-lutely,” Kakashi said without an ounce of remorse. “So can I have your number or what?” Iruka bristled. 

    “You're a piece of shit! I can't believe you, hitting on me like this right in front of your boyfriend! You have some nerve-”

    “Wait...boyfriend?” Kakashi cocked his head in confusion. “You mean Yams?”

    “The fuck do YAMS have to do with anything-”

    “Hi, that's me,” the short-haired man said, raising a hand. “Yamato, actually. 'Yams' to my friends. Which is what we are. Just...friends.” Iruka scowled at him suspiciously. 

    “Friends? Don't fuck with me. You brought him underwear-”

    “Really close friends,” Yamato reiterated. “Also, roommates. It's awful. I can't get away from him.” Iruka studied him for a moment, but couldn't spot any hint of deception. The man's almond-shaped eyes were surprisingly honest.

    “So you two...aren't dating?” he asked hesitantly. Yamato gave him a horrified look.

    “Dear God, NO. Kakashi is the WORST. He's lazy as hell, procrastinates til the last minute, is perpetually late to everything-”

    “You are a shit wingman-” Kakashi began. 

    “He needs to know what he's getting into,” Yamato snapped at him, then turned back to Iruka. “Seriously, though. You should run while you still can. There's hope for you.”

    “Don't listen to him,” Kakashi cut in. “I'm a fucking catch. Which is exactly why you should let your flaxen hair down, rip your shirt open to reveal your heaving bosom, and throw yourself into my arms-”

    “Will you cut that out?!” Iruka burst out impatiently. “Life is not a trashy romance novel.”

    “You sure about that?” Kakashi said, quirking an eyebrow. “Because I met you in a hospital through total coincidence. After really hitting it off, we had a misunderstanding brought on by miscommunication. Then I chased after you in a fucking wheelchair to declare my undying attraction to you. If that isn't a plot to a trashy romance novel, I don't know what the fuck is. At least it's not raining right now.”

    “I dunno, it might be drizzling,” Yamato said, glancing at a window.

    Iruka paused, considering.

    “I guess it...would make a pretty good book,” he admitted quietly. “The only thing is...I'm not sure what happens next.”

    “That part's for us to write,” Kakashi said, his tone eager. “Only we can complete the story.”

    “Aaaaand I'm going to puke,” Yamato stated. 

    “Sorry, we crossed the line from 'trashy' into 'sappy'.” Kakashi shook his head. “Anyway. Iruka. Please, I'm begging you. Let me sweep you off your feet. Just...give me a chance.”

    “I'll do you one better,” Iruka said after a pause. “I'll give you my number.” Stealing a marker from the nearby nurse's station, he bent and wrote his cell number on Kakashi's cast, then straightened and held out the bouquet. “Here, you can have these. The message works for you too, I guess.”

    Kakashi accepted the flowers with a laugh, taking an appreciative sniff. 

    “And now, I shall ride dramatically off into the sunset,” he said with complete seriousness. “Come, my valiant steed. Awaaaay!”

    “I will push you down the stairs,” Yamato grumbled as he spun the wheelchair around and started back down the hallway. Iruka watched them go with a fond smile on his face, giddy with anticipation. 

    He was eager to read the next few chapters in his life.

    Including the steamy bits. 

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Twelve Prompt: Hospitals)

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Hex Life

Fandom: WandaVision Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Jimmy Woo Rating: E Chapters: 10/10 Word Count: 34k

Summary: Guest starring Agent James E. Woo as himself and introducing Dr. Darcy Lewis as Mrs. Darcy Woo!

Or: Darcy and Jimmy are sent into the Hex to retrieve Captain Monica Rambeau. Finding out Westview has cast them as a married couple is only the first of the surprises that await them.

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten

this fic is now complete!

Jimmy’s going to be a dad. He was going to be a dad in a black-and-white sitcom world and now he’s going to be a dad in a world on the regular spectrum, so the colours really aren’t as big a deal as his impending fatherhood. Possible fatherhood. As much as he’s always secretly wanted his own little Jimmy Woo Jr., he didn’t know if it would be in the cards for him—pun obviously intended—and the last thing he wants to do is influence Darcy either way, especially since he’s only known her a couple days and doesn’t have a clue if a baby was really part of her life plan.

It can’t just be rose-coloured glasses making him see his wife warming to the idea though; when she continues down the hall ahead of Jimmy and Monica, he spots her careful cradling of the baby bump. He can barely stand not touching her. The instinct to shelter others has always been one of his strongest and now he feels it intensely. He longs to protect Darcy, to hold Darcy, to love— Well. Jimmy clears his throat at the very thought and Monica gives him a suspicious side-eyed glance.

“Dry throat,” he lies, tapping his neck in a probably highly unconvincing gesture.

“Uh huh.”

Yeah, she doesn’t sound convinced.

He’s rescued by a burst of sound from the bedroom and dashes ahead of Monica in case Darcy’s in trouble. When he bangs the bedroom door fully open, she’s fine. She’s laughing. He sighs and looks where she points. The queen-sized mattress they shared has changed back to a pair of narrower beds.

“Seriously,” Jimmy says flatly.

“Well, the big bed worked its magic,” Darcy concedes. She pats her rounded stomach. “Mission accomplished.”

“Aw jeeze.”

Ignoring his distress, she sits on the end of the closest bed.

“What I like is that they’re magically made. I didn’t end up having to change the sheets. This is really the next step in home technology.”

“Honey, don’t encourage the magical forces that control our home décor,” he pleads, beckoning until Darcy rises and takes his outstretched hand.

“Better than getting on their bad side. In the AI uprising, you wanna make sure you’re friends with the robots.”

This is an outrageous statement coming from a credible scientist, so Jimmy squints down at her for a minute before saying, “Thanks, house,” aloud, just in case appeasing the Hex now saves him from being closed into a room with no door later, if the walls rearrange to form the ’70s model of their current home.

“You did the smart thing,” Darcy assures him.

As they leave the room, she keeps hold of his hand. He shoots adoring glances at her.

“Hey, Monica,” she says, calling to their guest, who seems to have gone to investigate the walk-in closet. “Accommodations aren’t going to be a problem. I can give you some pajamas too because I think I own at least a dozen pairs, as I’m sure you’ve already discovered…”

But when they look in the closet it’s… not a closet.

“Or maybe the Hex destroyed all my pajamas and I should take back my overtures of friendship,” Darcy corrects.

“Welcome to your nursery,” Monica says. “I’m guessing from the look on Jimmy’s face that this is new.”

It’s spartan, but there’s no doubt in Jimmy’s mind that the room is now intended to be exactly what Monica said. There’s a crib in pieces on the carpet and a rocking chair in the corner. Though he can’t remember this room having even one window, there are now two. The blinds are drawn against the night and curtains patterned with stars and streaking comets hang from a rod mounted above the window. Automatically, he pulls Darcy into his side. He feels her rest her head on his shoulder.

“Man, the Hex is really giving us the hard sell,” she comments.

Just like that, he’s guiding her around by her upper arms and propelling her from the room. He glances over his shoulder to see Monica following with an amused smile. At his nod, she pulls the door shut.

“Ignore it,” Jimmy tells Darcy. “Don’t let that room influence you.”

“Oh, like that’s easy.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know it’s hard not to picture reading Jimmy Junior to sleep in his crib, or watching him learn to roll himself over on the carpet, or cuddling him in your arms in the rocking chair as the morning light—”

“Jimmy Junior?” Darcy asks, interrupting Jimmy’s rapidly solidifying daydream.

“You know what? I’m starving,” Monica announces, putting a hand on each of their shoulders to head off the awkward pause. “How about you two show me some hospitality? I’ve had a long day of being mind-controlled.”

“How ’bout some comfort food?” he asks. “I make a mean bowl of chili.”

“Sounds great.”

So, Jimmy cooks for them. His attention is unequally divided between the simmering pot, Monica leaning against the counter next to him as she recounts the scene at the meeting when Wanda went to take his call, and Darcy sifting pickily through the contents of their fridge. He glances over after putting the lid on the pot to let the chili finish cooking and sees his wife contemplatively holding an egg like it’s Yorick’s skull. Ok, well, he’s just going to leave her to her thoughts.

He sets bowls of chili for himself and Monica on the dining room table. Darcy, justifiably finnicky, takes longer to decide what she’ll be able to stomach, reflexively rubbing the baby bump as she plunders their kitchen. Finally, she comes to sit down. She’s brought a spoon. That’s it. Jimmy’s going to ask, but Darcy just scoots her chair close to his and takes intermittent mouthfuls of his serving while the conversation continues on. He sighs in unannoyed exasperation and alternates dips of his spoon with hers.

It’s just another weird routine they’ve settled into, and like everything else, it didn’t take long.

“You two didn’t know each other before this assignment, right?” Monica checks, motioning between Darcy and Jimmy with a slice of buttered toast.

“No, why?” Darcy asks, dropping a chunk of tomato from her spoon onto his. (Apparently, she doesn’t like tomatoes.)

Monica smiles and says, “No reason.”

She seems ready to accept them as they are, whatever they are. She goes back over the events of this afternoon for Darcy’s benefit—who was zoned out staring at an egg at the time—then the three of them turn to talk of tomorrow. What does Monica feel she needs to try before she’s willing to concede and leave the Hex with them? What can she try? How can Jimmy and Darcy assist her? They talk themselves in a circle of possibilities, limitations, and Monica’s unswerving negative answer to suggestions of her leaving the Hex without getting through to Wanda. Eventually, they decide that the best plan may be no plan, since they’re up against Westview’s ever-shifting magical properties.

“We’ll get up in the morning and see what the world looks like,” Monica says.

Jimmy’s going to reply when the Captain’s expression alters.

“Are you remembering?” Darcy asks her astutely. Monica stares at her. “I don’t want to pry, I’ve just seen that look on a lot of people’s faces lately. People who came back.”

“This isn’t dissimilar,” Monica admits. “When I get anywhere near Wanda or the other characters with speaking parts and start to lose control to… Geraldine—” Jimmy thinks the look on her face is both disgusted and deeply hurt. “—I do get this feeling like the world is going on without me. Only I’m there. I’m right there. I haven’t made up my mind yet if it’s worse than being gone entirely then coming back to find nothing’s the same.”

“Yeah,” Darcy says, soft, sympathetic.

“I don’t know what else the members of this community have been through, but I know I don’t want them to have to keep going through this too. I can’t imagine how tight Wanda’s grip is on the people who were here when she started this. Not sure I’m qualified to be the one to tell her how to let go of her grief and move on.”

Monica blinks quickly and gives a forced smile.

“That was good chili, Jimmy.”

He nods in thanks because he can’t find the right words to say.

They’re all carrying something and Jimmy thinks about that as the three of them clean up, then splinter off to get ready for bed, tired for different and shared reasons. (He changes into his pajamas in the nursery—they found their clothing in a new, regular-sized closet in the bedroom—while Monica and Darcy take the bathrooms.) The Captain’s carrying her recent bereavement and the unignorable sense of responsibility she feels to help Wanda and the Westviewers, possibly precisely because she isn’t ready to confront her own loss. Darcy’s doing some literal carrying with the baby bump her pajama top is buttoned over when she steps out of the en suite bathroom to let Jimmy in to brush his teeth. She’s an astrophysicist who, while studying a television diversion from reality, was brought rudely back to earth by circumstances as real as they come.

What Jimmy’s carrying is actually carrying him: his hope. It’s a good thing to have in his line of work, but a tough thing to keep when the world’s been through what it has. A baby is the least likely and most longed-for thing he would’ve confessed to wanting if someone asked him what was missing from his life.

When it’s acknowledged through awkward glances that, yes, Monica’s taking one of the beds and Jimmy and Darcy will share the other, he climbs under the covers his wife holds open for him. She rolls away from him to lie on her side and he gets comfortable on his back. The Hex has definitely eased up on what it wants for their romantic development because this is the first time he’s been in bed with Darcy and not felt himself caving to the need to have sex with her. Oh, the desire to touch her is as powerful as ever, but the kind of touching he craves is as tender as the flesh of that peach he brought her earlier in the day.

But he doesn’t want to crowd her. Figuratively or literally. Between finding Monica and calling Wanda, making love to Darcy all afternoon and being presented with her pregnant belly in the evening, it’s been a dog’s breakfast of a day. The mission abruptly became just the second most daunting thing he needs to pull off. Now, he’s driven by the impulse to be near Darcy. She doesn’t know it, but she’s drawing him in like gravity and he can only cross his fingers for a soft landing.

Jimmy almost jumps when she reaches for him in the dark, hand feeling behind her until it finds his. She drags his arm over her and he flips onto his side to make it easier. Though Darcy lets him go when his arm’s around her, he doesn’t know where to rest his hand. Tentatively, he places it over her belly and she wriggles back into him. Heart bursting, he holds her more securely to his body, smooths his hand over the bump, and soon falls asleep.

—

The floor wakes him up. He’s just fallen out of bed.

Disoriented, Jimmy sits up in a tangle of comforter and squints at his bed companion in the morning light. They must’ve repositioned while they slept, but that alone wasn’t what forced him to and over the edge—he can see the shape of Darcy’s belly beneath the sheet. It’s noticeably larger than it was yesterday.

He’s still trying to come to terms with that when she sleepily grasps the comforter and yanks it back over her body. Jimmy chuckles and rises into a stretch. Monica’s bed is empty and neatly made, so she must be up already. Before entering the Hex, his internal clock was strict too. Since, he bends to the needs of his subconscious, which seems happiest when it’s allowed to sleep in, particularly if Darcy’s warming the sheets next to him. This is only their third day in Westview and the second time waking up here, but it feels wonderfully routine. As satisfying as completing his consistently-timed morning run or pouring exactly the right amount of milk into his cereal.

Although he’d like to let Darcy sleep, it’s weird now because he’s staring. Anyway, they need to tighten up their operations even further today if they’re going to get out of here soon. Monica requires either success or closure with Wanda, so Jimmy’s determined to help with that. And if Darcy’s pregnancy takes another leap forward, well… that’s another time crunch to consider.

She’s lying on her side, facing him, belly in the space where he fell asleep. Gently, he brushes hair out of her face and strokes lightly up and down her arm.

Darcy gives him a murmured “Hi” with her eyes still shut.

“You gonna get up?”

“Inaminute,” she promises, words running together.

“Alright.”

Jimmy hovers for a second, then darts down to kiss her forehead. She pats his shoulder clumsily in response.

He might as well have had his own eyes shut, blind to everything but Darcy, because it takes opening his wardrobe to realize Monica was correct—everything’s changed again. WandaVision has embraced the ’70s. The shirts and suits he was pretty comfortable with have been traded out. Those items still exist, but now they’re aggressively patterned. There are flared pant legs. There is so much corduroy. Out of the row of shoes tucked into the bottom on his side of the closet, half have platform heels.

“Oh god,” Jimmy groans softly, sifting through for something that won’t feel too much like a cheesy costume.

He ends up with jeans—his only pair of pants without a pattern—and a striped shirt with wide lapels. The Hex’s makeover of his closet has him so beaten down that he doesn’t even pick out a jacket. He doesn’t have the heart for business casual. At the sight of a long-sleeved jumpsuit, Jimmy closes the closet door securely. They have to get out of here. This will be the thing that breaks him.

Slouching into the bathroom, he drops his selections on the counter and takes a shower. As he washes his hair, his fingers slow their scrubbing. Is his hair… longer? He finishes quickly and steps out to find the mirror fogged with steam. He wipes it clean with his forearm, examining his reflection. This place isn’t through with him yet: the Hex has given him a mustache.

Jimmy screams.

“Fine!” Darcy shouts back to his wordless noise of dismay. “I’m up! God, you could’ve just set an alarm and OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU SEEN THE SIZE OF THIS BABY BUMP?!”

He sighs on behalf of himself and his wife, slicks his too-long wet hair back with a comb, then starts in on shaving off the mustache. It immediately grows back.

“Come on,” he complains, cursing the Hex. “Why’d you give me a razor then?!”

Luckily, his annoyance fades the minute he sees Darcy. She’s swearing up a storm about needing to pee and her head looking too small for her body because the Hex has straightened her hair, but he takes all of her restless irritation in with a dazed smile on his face. Adjusting her glasses—now almost circular, with rounded off corners—she catches sight of his new look and erupts into laughter. Whatever the Hex does to mess with their appearance, at least they’re each other’s best medicine to combat it.

“I don’t want to be insensitive,” Monica starts when they walk into the kitchen hand in hand, “but are you significantly more pregnant than you were yesterday?”

Jimmy watches Darcy nod and slips away from her to throw some more bread in the toaster from the bag Monica’s left out on the counter for them.

“You’d think it’s just this big, shapeless dress,” Darcy says, “but no.” She pulls the fabric taut over her stomach to show the size of her belly more accurately. “I don’t want to say it, but the size of this thing makes me think the Hex is leaving me room to grow.”

“And if that dress is only for today…” Monica says.

“Jeepers,” Jimmy concludes.

They eat together in their reconfigured living room. It’s not until Monica’s kicked back in one of their low chairs, ankle propped on her opposite knee, that Jimmy notices her patterned pants.

“Those aren’t from Darcy’s closet are they?”

“No. I’m assuming they’re my clothes from yesterday with the matter recycled for a new decade. Believe me, this outfit wouldn’t have been my choice if I had anything else to pick from.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. I had a whole closet and still ended up with this,” Jimmy says, motioning to himself.

“My retro Secret Agent Man,” Darcy states admiringly, leaning her head over to bump against his shoulder. Ok, he thinks, smiling at her, I can be alright with this for her.

When Monica rises to turn on the television, Jimmy realizes this is the first time they’ve had one in the house. He remembers seeing a set in the Vision residence when he and Darcy were watching an episode on the S.W.O.R.D. base, but he didn’t notice the lack once they got here. Probably because that first night was taken up with flirting, and then yesterday was split between scouring the downtown for Monica and holing up in the bedroom with Darcy. Watching the screen buzz to life now is like witnessing something truly futuristic and spectacular.

“Well, whaddaya know,” he says as the opening sequence of WandaVision begins.

“You think the TVs in here play anything else?” Darcy wonders aloud.

“Maybe not,” Monica says distractedly as they all turn their attention to Wanda and Vision’s adorable antics—the ice cream, the tandem bicycle. “It’s a pretty big coincidence that this show started right when I turned it on.”

“I can see an even bigger coincidence.”

There’s no need to guess what Darcy means. Wanda’s baby bump is obvious in nearly every shot of the introduction, particularly emphasized when she and Vision dance together, his hand on her belly. It’s all maternity clothes and Vision reading pregnancy books and while it’s wholesome, it’s also chilling.

“We’re doing the same plot,” Jimmy says.

“It’s like we’re… their understudies,” Darcy agrees, shrinking back into the cushions.

“Maybe Wanda figured, if you two wanted to be in the show so bad, she’d put you in the show,” Monica theorizes. “Her show. Exactly the way she’s living it.”

“So she’s teaching us a lesson? On what? Abstinence?”

“Could be a misguided attempt to gain your sympathy.”

“Or it really is all about control,” Jimmy suggests, cynical after the reveal that the pregnancy that’s upended his entire life isn’t really theirs. It’s not original. They’re following a Newlywed Couple template.

“Hey,” Darcy says, grabbing his arm, “this wasn’t all Wanda. She might’ve set the scene and, yeah, maybe we were more the goatherd puppets than we were Fraulein Maria and Captain von Trapp, but we did this.” She pulls his hand to her belly. “Wanda doesn’t decide what we do next.”

“What I suggest you not do next is consult Dr. Misogyny over here,” Monica says, gesturing at the television.

The doctor is condescending to Wanda and Vision about the facts of life during a checkup (in their living room?). He lowers himself even further in Jimmy’s regard when he refers to expectant mothers as “little ladies” and implies that the changes in their own bodies are beyond their understanding.

“What a quack,” he decides. “We’re not going to see that guy.” He’s startled to recall his promise to Darcy the previous evening, about options, his intention not to make up her own mind for her. Lowering his voice, he tilts his head close to hers. “I mean, we’ll do whatever you want. Including…”

Jimmy trails off and casts his eyes down. He still means it, wants Darcy on board with this 100% or not at all, but the whole thing’s been a roller coaster and he’s not great at pretending not to feel anything. With his wife so much further into her pregnancy today, it’s obvious that this baby will be born and they’ll need to decide who’s raising it. He thinks the two of them together could rear a pretty incredible kid, but if she wants out, is he prepared to be a single parent? The other option besides her, him, or both of them raising the baby is adoption. They’d need to leave the Hex before taking those steps (it’s not like he’s going to encourage Darcy to hand the baby over to a mind-controlled Westviewer), and just thinking about it, with everything he already feels for the baby, makes him certain that he’d rather rearrange his entire life than pass on this chance at a family. However unorthodox their beginnings.

“Don’t worry,” Darcy says calmly, pulling him from his spiral. “That guy will never get the chance to compare my uterus to a vegetable garden.”

“Fruit,” Monica corrects without looking away from the television.

“Right. Fruit. He’ll have no say about any of it. And he definitely won’t get the opportunity to be patronizing as fuck while he tries to give us the sex talk.” She looks Jimmy right in the eye and says, “I won’t let the asshole doctor-man say a word about your banana.”

Chuckling, he looks back to the screen. The doctor has departed and Vision’s currently baffled over Wanda’s newly expanded stomach. Uh oh. He jerks his head around to check and, yep, Darcy’s baby bump appears to be keeping up with the sitcom star’s.

“You two stay here,” Monica instructs, on her feet when Jimmy glances over.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To Wanda’s. If things continue at this rate, she could give birth in this episode. That’s going to make her even more protective of her family and her space and I’ll have an even harder time getting near her.”

“Are you sure you want to interrupt?”

They both glance at the television for a moment to observe Wanda and Vision debating baby names in the nursery. There’s nothing distressing about the scene—in fact, the couple looks as much at ease as Jimmy’s seen them on the show—but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t change, and quickly, if Monica inserted herself. He just isn’t sure how that would go and he doesn’t like any plan where he can’t foresee all the possible outcomes.

“Guess I just have a feeling,” Monica says, looking unsettled.

“Well,” Darcy pipes up, “in the world of science, having a feeling is forming a theory, and in this place… I think having a feeling you should do something might be Wanda giving you your cue.”

“You’re not beyond her control,” Jimmy tells Monica, “just farther away from it. What if Darcy’s right?”

“If Wanda wants me there, I’m not going to resist,” she replies firmly. “She’s the key and we need her cooperation.”

“Good luck,” Darcy bids her.

With a nod to them both, Monica strides across the living room and opens the front door.

“Speaking of keys,” Jimmy recalls, but the door shuts before he can offer to let her borrow their car to get to Wanda’s.

Maybe the Captain has a different plan. Maybe she’s just bending to Wanda’s influence. Whichever it is, he can’t go after her. Monica was right—he has to stay here with Darcy today, especially because her belly seems larger when he looks again. He glances at her face with a question on his and she nods.

“And I felt a kick,” she says.

“Really? Could I…? Do you think I could…?”

Darcy rolls her eyes at his reticence and guides both his hands to the bump. When he feels something nudge his palm, Jimmy tears up.

“That’s our baby,” Darcy confirms.

“Feels like they have my softball windup,” he murmurs.

“Or my pre-coffee restlessness.”

“Our baby,” Jimmy repeats, staring into her eyes—finally blue for the first time in days, give or take a decade.

They’re having a marvelous family moment until the power goes out. Lights, TV, the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, everything. Seconds later, it all comes back.

“That was strange.”

“I wondered what Wanda’s magic was doing to the power grid,” Darcy says. “I’m still curious about the finer points of what happens when electricity meets power generated by an Infinity Stone. Really, I’d expect Wanda to have this kinda thing under control, but I guess if she’s— Ugh!”

Her pained noise has Jimmy cupping her face, pushing back her hair, trying to figure out what happened.

“She’s distracted,” she says.

“By what?”

“Labour.”

“What? No.”

Sure enough, when Darcy stands (with Jimmy leaping to his feet to support her) and stretches her back, her bump looks big enough to contain a baby that’s almost ready to be born. Ready to be born?! Jimmy thinks. In our house? With no doctor? Just because the one on TV rubbed him the wrong way doesn’t mean he’s prepared to write off every doctor, nurse, and midwife in Westview. He would very much like to place responsibility for this delivery in the hands of a medical professional, not his own!

Even as the TV’s flickering back to life, he helps Darcy away from it. That just shows how serious things are. He knows how quickly she became invested in the sitcom when they reviewed the ’50s episode at the base.

After some frantic thought, he’s thinking the bathtub is going to have to do. People do that right? With home births? Although he attempts to guide Darcy in that direction, she doesn’t even want to sit down on the edge, let alone climb in. No, she wants to pace, and as she paces, she rubs at her lower back, wincing.

“We could look at the nursery,” he proposes. “Might take your mind off it.”

Jimmy knows it could be a weak suggestion, an insult to imply that anything could take Darcy’s mind off whatever discomfort she’s currently feeling, but the Hex, with its radioactive walls, smiles down on them for once. With his arm around her to take some of her weight, they hobble into the baby’s room and it’s… perfect.

The walls are dark blue near the ceiling, almost black, fading to periwinkle halfway down the wall. The lower portion transitions from blue to pale yellow, then a blazing orange right before the baseboard.

“It’s a sunrise,” he comprehends.

“Yeah,” Darcy says softly.

Though he feels like he got slightly ripped off by not being allowed a chance to do any of the decorating, he does admire the Hex’s choices. At last, his wife’s been represented in this space, in this house, and it’s beautiful. There’s a shelf full of space-themed board books, a plastic jumble of play versions of scientific tools like telescopes. A dangling mobile of the planets. After easing his wife into the rocking chair, Jimmy holds up a pack of glow-in-the-dark stars.

“Should I put these up?”

She smiles.

“I would be all over that shit if I could, but I trust you to do a good job.”

“Oh no. Do you want me to do real constellations?”

“The baby’s not gonna know the difference. Make it look however you want.”

She rocks, assuring him something about the motion is helping her manage the intensifying pain of her contractions, and Jimmy finds a small stepping stool to help him reach the ceiling. The sway of the chair in the corner of his eye, the morning light through the curtains, and the sound of Darcy breathing are things he already knows he’ll never forget.

Before he’s stuck all the stars in the pack to the ceiling’s white paint, she calls him down from the stool.

“I need to walk again.”

Darcy says it with grit and Jimmy doesn’t argue, even when walking appears to put her in even more distress; she groans and pushes her free hand against the wall as they stroll out of the nursery and down the hallway.

“Let’s check in with Wanda,” Jimmy says helplessly.

This is who he is now: a husband in over his head, desperate to gain tips about delivering a baby from a TV sitcom. An overwhelmed real estate agent. A man with a mustache.

They return to the living room and the TV playing WandaVision in time for Monica’s entrance. Based on her free use of ’70s slang and the general discord between the Captain Rambeau Jimmy’s been getting to know and the woman on the screen, he knows they’re looking at Geraldine. Wanda’s back in control of her character alright, and Jimmy wants to know who it’s helping. The scene’s centered around some joke about Wanda attempting to hide her pregnancy, which is no good for him. He needs a step-by-step guide, not a magic-resistant stork!

“There better not be a fucking bird in here,” Darcy gripes, alternately crouching and standing as every position fails to make her comfortable. “If I see a fucking, goddamn, sonofabitch, motherfucking—”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” Jimmy assures her, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades with the flat of his hand.

“The betrayal,” she mutters when Wanda elects to lie down behind a couch.

It completely blocks their view. If this were a regular show, Jimmy would understand that. Sitcom viewers would definitely appreciate a little TV magic over graphic, up-close-and-personal birth footage, but here at the Woo residence, one FBI agent and his astrophysicist wife really just want the truth! If Monica had agency, he’s sure she’d shove the couch aside to help them out, but with Geraldine at the helm, he’s confronting the fact that he and Darcy are on their own.

“Let’s go, Darcy,” he says, steering her towards the bathroom. “We don’t need her.”

“Are you sure?”

He’s never heard Darcy sound so uncertain and knows he’ll have to bluff his way through this. When the Avengers aren’t around, the regular people must step up. Reminding himself of that has gotten Jimmy through more than one tough day on the job and he tells himself it’ll get them both through this.

“Of course.”

In the bathroom, Darcy kicks out of her underwear and uses Jimmy as a crutch to climb into the tub. Her face is scrunched up severely and her hands are braced against the walls of the bathtub, so he tries to watch and understand what she needs. When all the tension in her face and body burst out in a shout, he grabs her hand. Her fingers curl around his palm in a death grip.

“How about some nice warm water? Water, Darcy?”

She nods rapidly, eyes clenched shut, and he turns on the facet, then quickly reaches behind her to plug the drain. The stream wets his sleeve and, when he withdraws his arm, hits her hair around the level of her shoulders and begins to soak the back of her dress. Between contractions, Darcy sighs in what sounds like relief.

“That feels good,” she acknowledges.

“Good,” is all Jimmy can say back. He kisses her face and squeezes her hand in his. “Good.”

He’s back to scrambling for a solution soon enough when the warm flow of water down her back stops being enough to soothe her. He helps her out of her sodden dress, tossing it behind him to splat on the tile floor.

“What do you need?” he asks wildly, leaning over the tub.

“Earplugs,” Darcy tells him before emitting a scream shrill enough to probably be heard by their neighbour’s dog, Dipper, down the street.

Jimmy doesn’t think, he just does. Snatching a towel off the rail, bracing his wife’s foot against his shoulder as her leg spasms, reaching into the water to collect their baby when the Hex (he assumes) does them the favour of letting one long push be sufficient to expel him. Him. Jimmy and Darcy’s son.

He’s beaming through the happy tears, delicately wiping at the wailing baby with the towel and passing him into Darcy’s outstretched arms as she shakes with astonished laughter, hair wet, head resting back against the jut of the faucet.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he jokes.

Darcy sits up, sending a splash of water over the side of the bathtub to slap the floor, and he knows the Hex is interfering again to make her capable of anything besides exhaustion after what she just accomplished. She twists sideways in the tub until she’s closer to Jimmy. He wraps an arm around her wet shoulders and peers down at the face of their boy, already drowsy after exercising his tiny lungs. Jimmy can feel Darcy studying his face.

“Jimmy Woo Junior?” she asks.

And he knows the rest is going to be gravy.

—

Inside the Hex, the magic of television is real. They didn’t need to fake Darcy’s pregnancy with a cushion to make her belly, round and taut as a beach ball, disappear entirely only minutes after giving birth. They didn’t need a set of twins or triplets playing Jimmy Woo Jr. to swap in a quiet baby for one that starts to cry. There’s no trick lighting or fudged angles, just Darcy sitting on the couch (in dry, non-maternity clothes) catching their amazingly calm, less than an hour-old son up on the details of his origin story—Darcy’s wording.

It’s shaping up to be a nice, if highly unusual, family day in, until the tension starts to mount on-screen. Probably something Jimmy could’ve caught sooner if he weren’t spending 50 seconds out of every minute stroking the baby’s teeny-weeny hands while he hopes Jimmy Jr. retains zero memory of his dad’s mustache. When he hears Monica mention Wanda’s brother by name, he’s fully alert to the episode and knows he has to act. That close to Wanda, Monica’s control should be fully suppressed beneath the character of Geraldine. If she’s breaking through to ask Wanda person questions, questions that are almost definitely going to provoke an emotional response, Monica must be fighting like crazy to surface. Jimmy decides that’s his signal to get over there and help bring this thing to a satisfying conclusion so they can all leave the Hex.

“You’re not going to Wanda’s without me,” Darcy informs him, planted in front of the door when Jimmy returns from grabbing his keys.

“Darcy, you can’t. The baby. I’d stay with him and let you go, but I’ve never heard you mention particular skill in hand-to-hand combat and I can’t guarantee things won’t turn violent.”

She snorts.

“Liar. I could be the world’s biggest hand-to-hand badass and you’d still be trying to protect me right now.”

He stares at her and Darcy stubbornly lifts her chin as she holds his eyes.

“Ok,” Jimmy concedes, “yes, I would.”

“Please don’t leave us here,” she says, cheek pressed to the baby’s. No, no, no, he can already feel himself wanting to surrender, to have them with him. Darcy kisses their son’s face, then holds his hand to gesture while she pitches her voice higher, pretending to speak for Jimmy Jr. “I want to meet Auntie Monica.”

He gives her a look and reaches past her to open the door. Instead of trying to exit around his family, he waves Darcy through ahead of him. (She looks down at the baby in her arms and goes “Yaaaay! Isn’t Daddy a soft touch?”)

“You didn’t persuade me,” he says, leading them to the car and holding the door for Darcy while she climbs into the back seat with the baby. “This is strategic.”

“Is the strategy common sense? I feel like you should’ve gone with that from the beginning. Bringing a scientist to a magic fight is good thinking, for, like, balance and shit.”

Jimmy backs down the driveway as gently as he can. Their car’s been modernized (well, for the latest decade) and while it now has seatbelts, it wasn’t equipped with a car seat for their son. He’s going to have to drive with the utmost care.

“Hopefully, there won’t be a fight,” he reminds Darcy, “but if there is, you won’t be anywhere near it. You and Jimmy Junior are staying in the car. Alright?”

When he darts his gaze to the rear-view mirror, he sees his wife looking out her window, making a show of not listening to him. Jimmy sighs.

Without thinking, he navigates back to the street where they dropped Monica off yesterday. Wanda’s house is just down from Dottie’s; he remembers the number from watching WandaVision. Jimmy draws up to the curb and parks. He glances back at Darcy, but she’s still ignoring him.

“I’ll try to be right back,” he tells her anyway, eyes dropping longingly to the serene face of his sleeping son. He’s heard that about babies and car rides.

Jogging up the driveway, he does a doubletake of a ragged slash in the wall between Wanda’s property and her neighbour’s. There’s not exactly anything wrong with a damaged cinderblock or an amateur handyman job, but the crevice in the stone stands out in a world so aggressively styled and manicured.

Wishing for the reassurance of his gun at his hip in case things go south (it’s the first time he’s even thought about the gun since the night he and Darcy arrived), Jimmy enters the Vision residence without knocking.

Orienting himself to what he was just watching on TV in a house less than a mile from here, he walks across the entryway, attracting the attention of both Wanda and Monica. They’re standing across from each other in the living room. Raising his hands to show he intends no harm, Jimmy sweeps his eyes over the scene in assessment, like he has a hundred times before. Monica’s expression is alarmed under superficial friendliness—the look of someone trying to placate an attacker. With her aggressive, forward-leaning posture and the way she’s positioned herself between Monica and the cribs (he’s surprised to see more than one, but he did miss some of the episode while he was delivering his son in their bathtub), Wanda fits that role.

“Wanda,” he says, taking a step towards the seating area, “you don’t want to hurt her.”

“Are you working with her?” Wanda demands. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“James Woo. I’m not here to hurt you. Neither is Geraldine.”

“You don’t want to hurt me? Then why do you come asking questions? Saying things—” He can see her chin wobble from here as she teeters on the edge of tears. “—about Pietro. You didn’t know my brother.”

Her statement is directed at Monica, but Jimmy tries to bring her focus back to him. Of himself and the Captain, he’s the one with an exit at his back, whereas Monica’s hemmed in by a large bookcase.

“I didn’t know your brother,” Jimmy agrees. “I do know about him, but we don’t need to talk about that. I don’t want to upset you, Wanda, I just want you to let me leave with Geraldine.”

“Oh, I’ll let you leave,” Wanda says, cocking her head as she raises her hands. This motion conveys the opposite meaning to Jimmy’s—she does intend them harm.

He’s contemplating what’ll happen if he tries to rush her when Darcy charges through the front door he left open.

“Don’t!” Jimmy gasps, making a grab for her, but his body is tense with caution and Darcy has the momentum to dodge him, stepping down the level into the living room.

“Look,” Darcy demands of Wanda, whose expression is torn as she chooses between facing Monica and this new intruder.

Jimmy’s mentally composing and rejecting ideas of how to proceed when their unwelcoming host lowers her hands. She’s looking where Darcy directed her to, at the baby in Darcy’s arms.

“He was born less than an hour ago, and I only found out I was pregnant yesterday, but that doesn’t matter. I know it’s the same for you, the circumstances and the… yeah, whatever. You know about the Big Bang, right?” she continues, jumping to the next thought.

“Yes,” Wanda says carefully.

Jimmy’s terrified to move closer and set Wanda on the offensive again. He glances at Monica, who seems to be thinking the same thing, frozen in place.

“From nothing to so much, in an instant,” Darcy’s saying in her condensed history of the universe. “Science is supposed to be full of all these rules. Like, every scientist dude important enough to remember had some law or formula or method that we map everything on top of when we’re pretending we understand all this. Being in science isn’t a goal I’ve had for a long time—I mean, I probably wouldn’t be in it now if the world hadn’t more or less ended—and if all I ever heard about the workings of the universe was rules, I would’ve stayed away. Who likes rules, right? Who wants to be told that things are the way they are because something outside of your control says so? My point is…”

She takes a deep breath, then another one, shifting until she’s blocking Wanda’s expression from Jimmy’s view.

“Sorry, I just gave birth, you know how it is,” Darcy says when she goes on. Jimmy’s stricken with exasperation, adoration, fear, and pride. “My point is that I love science because, while science is laws and rules and equations, science is also standing outside at night and staring up at the dark. There are explanations for every light that’s up there and why, even when you’re away from big cities and the sky seems so black and close, you don’t fall up into it, although it kinda feels like you could. Science can tell me why, and it still feels like magic when I look at the stars. And we’ve all been traveling out here in space together, getting made and unmade and made again because the right ingredients needed to create something as precious as a planet, or a baby, or the clay that’ll make the bricks that’ll make the house never disappear. Suns explode, asteroids collide and get chipped away… things can separate down to their smallest part, life can…”

“End?” Wanda asks.

Jimmy’s stunned to hear the word come out choked. Cautiously, he leans to get a glimpse of Wanda’s face. It’s covered in tears. Darcy’s nodding.

“But everything’s valuable. All matter gets reused.” Jimmy wants to grab her and pull her to safety when she takes a step closer to Wanda. “I get it if you’re sad and you’re not ready to talk about it. I’m not gonna say it’s ok, because I’ve heard Monica’s testimonial on exactly how much it sucks to have you in her head, but I do think you should let us leave now so you have a few friends out there when you inevitably need people on your side.”

“You can go,” Wanda agrees, swiping at her nose. “I won’t hurt your baby.”

“You’re not going to hurt my friend either,” Darcy says, beckoning for Monica to cross the room behind her. “Or my husband.”

“No,” Wanda says.

Monica reaches Jimmy and they wait for Darcy in the entryway.

“I bet all that control feel really good,” Darcy theorizes. “Taking it into your own hands. But I think you know that focusing on the beautiful, magical stuff doesn’t mean the rules no longer exist. Maybe you can find a way to accept them both.”

“It’s time for you to leave,” Wanda says, firmer now.

“Not looking for a life coach, got it.”

She joins Jimmy and Monica, bouncing the baby lightly in her arms. Wanda ushers them out of the house ahead of her. Jimmy glances back to see her close the door after herself with a twist and red glow of her hands.

“What about waiting in the car?” he mutters to Darcy as they stride down the lawn.

His self-proclaimed wife stares at him.

“I’m not the kind of person who waits in the car. Would the kind of person who waits in the car give a speech like that?”

Jimmy’s at an honest-to-goodness loss for words.

She gets into the car willingly enough now, Jimmy in the passenger’s seat while Monica slides behind the wheel.

“Wanda’s told me how to stand, how to move, how to walk since I got in here,” Monica says, turning the key in the ignition. “I’m driving myself out.”

“It’ll part for you when you get there,” Wanda calls to them from the lawn. “The barrier. I suggest you do not attempt to enter again.”

“I think we’ve all had our fill,” Jimmy informs her cheerfully through his rolled-down window.

She doesn’t respond to this, so Monica executes a three-point turn and takes them back up the street the way they came. From there, they turn out of the subdivision, but Jimmy snags a last look at Wanda through the back window. There’s a light breeze blowing her dress and hair and she looks like she could be anyone. A suburban mom of twins? Why not. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see her again in person, but he has plans to catch her show.

“Wanda’s changed the roads,” Monica says as she drives. For his son’s sake, Jimmy’s grateful that she isn’t speeding, though he wouldn’t blame her for trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. “None of them lead out of town.”

“Literal tourist trap. Brilliant,” Darcy declares from the back seat. Jimmy reaches an arm back blindly and feels her close her hand around his.

“But,” Monica adds, “I remember Ellis Avenue being the closest cross street to the edge of town. We find that, then drive over the grass. Things may get a little bumpy.”

“We’ll survive.”

Jimmy twists around to look at Darcy. He nods. They will. They’ll survive.

They cross Ellis and take the car off-road. The barrier remains invisible, but…

“I can feel it,” Darcy says.

“Like we did the day we came in,” Jimmy recalls.

“It still wants us out,” Monica interprets. He sees her staring uneasily ahead. “Was I naïve to think I could change anything by coming in here?”

“No, Captain. It was brave.”

“Didn’t work though. We aren’t leaving with Wanda.”

“It could work,” Darcy says. “We left her with a few things to think about. We’ll watch WandaVision and see.”

“That’ll be strange after being a part of it.”

“You think so?” Jimmy wonders. He takes a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the sunshine, playing with Darcy’s fingers laced through his. “I think it’s returning to regular life that’s going to feel strange. Out there, it’s easy to see all this as a TV show, but everything in here is real.”

“We’ll make Hayward understand that.”

“I’m bringing back some compelling evidence,” Darcy says, followed by kissy sounds directed at Jimmy Jr.

The air just a couple of car lengths ahead of them abruptly glows red as Wanda reveals the wall of the Hex. Jimmy and Monica exchange a look, but she doesn’t slow down. They pass through without resistance. All of a sudden, it’s night. Monica lets out a relieved sigh.

The S.W.O.R.D. base is looming, exterior lights ablaze, but Jimmy looks backwards, checking that Darcy and the baby are alright.

“Same as you left us,” she says, pulling back the blanket to show him the face of his son.

He gives her a slightly melancholic smile.

“Not quite, Dr. Lewis.”

“I’ll have a lot of work to do,” Darcy notes thoughtfully, “but time for you and me to go on dates will be on my list of demands.”

“You have a list of demands?” Monica asks, laughter in her voice.

“After being forced into the Hex, where I could’ve lost my life? Fuck yes, I have a list.”

“What else are you asking for?”

“The coffee I requested on day one and a desk in a better spot so there’s room next to it for the crib that will also be on my list.”

Monica laughs aloud now.

“Is this a benefits negotiation or a baby shower registry?”

“Let’s get back to the part where we’re going on dates,” Jimmy says. “How’s that going to work?”

“Jimmy, darlin’,” Darcy begins, “will you go out with me?”

He leans to look around his seat at her.

“Darcy, we were married. We have a baby. Don’t you think we can—”

“Answer the question, Agent Woo.”

“Of course I’ll go out with you,” he says.

“And that’s how it works. Easy-peasy.”

She gives his hand a squeeze before releasing it to hold Jimmy Jr. more securely as Monica pulls up to a building and brakes. Already, S.W.O.R.D. agents are rushing out to meet them, but Jimmy drops back against his seat and smiles to himself.

“‘Easy-peasy.’”

[jaskierswolf]

Fuck Indeed - 1 of 4

Rating: E

Chapter WC: 2720

Summary: Jaskier scrolled through the terms and conditions of the website he was planning on selling his soul to. It seemed simple enough, and he really needed the money. His music career hadn’t exactly gotten off to a flying start and he was tired of sponging off his friends and they were, quite frankly, tired of him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be allowed to sofa surf and he really needed his own space.

So, he was starting an OnlyFans account. - On AO3

CW (for whole story): 18+ only, anal sex, masturbation, exhibition kink, sex work, rimming, sex toys, talks of blow jobs, Geralt bottoms but it’s mentioned they switch, biting (but no blood), Jaskier wearing lingerie and makeup.

Jaskier scrolled through the terms and conditions of the website he was planning on selling his soul to. It seemed simple enough, and he really needed the money. His music career hadn’t exactly gotten off to a flying start and he was tired of sponging off his friends and they were, quite frankly, tired of him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be allowed to sofa surf and he really needed his own space. 

So, he was starting an OnlyFans account. 

The only thing he was good at outside of his music and poetry was sex. So why not make some money off of it. He’d already done a shit ton of research on stats, marketing, and the types of audiences he was looking to attract… and yes that potentially meant that he’d spent more money than he could afford on subscriptions to porn but, well, it was an investment. 

He was going to be good at this, nay, he was going to be fucking brilliant; pun intended. 

He smirked as he clicked to register his account. 

Phase one complete. 

Phase two… commencing. 

He quickly adjusted his photograph to the incredibly alluring photo he’d picked out. Essi had helped him stage a photoshoot after he’d promised to only film his videos when he was staying with Priscilla or Valdo. The photo showed him sitting backwards on a chair, stockings pulled up to his thighs and attached by turquoise lace garters. He was wearing a gorgeous matching lingerie set that was barely visible from behind the chair, a tease for the sort of content he would be putting out. He was also wearing a pair of killer heels. 

Heels he absolutely couldn’t walk in yet, but they’d been so pretty and he’d always wanted to learn so he’d bought them on a whim, again more money that he didn’t have…. thank fuck for credit cards. 

He wasn’t looking at the camera, his fringe covering his eyes, but he was clearly laughing at something, blood red lipstick staining his lips. 

He was rather impressed with how it had turned out. 

Now he just needed to get up some content. He glanced at the clock, he had probably missed the best time to post a video today, but he had a few photos from his shoot with Essi. He flicked through his camera roll until he found his second favourite, one where he was looking up just past the camera, eyes catching the light perfectly so they shone a sparkling bright blue. 

Not to be narcissistic, but he looked fucking gorgeous. 

He grinned and typed out a teasing caption to introduce himself, then hit post. Afterwards, he locked his phone and threw it across the room, not wanting to think about the comments and reactions. 

He stared at it as it bounced on the mattress. 

The only sounds were his breath and his heartbeat in his ears. 

“Bollocks,” he muttered after what felt like a lifetime, and scrambled after his phone, unlocking it quickly with a few nimble taps of his finger. 

If he spent the next two hours refreshing his page to see what people thought then… well, no one needed to know. It wasn’t an instant hit, but he was new and it was expected, and he was thrilled at the couple of messages he received and he already had a couple of subscribers. 

He could do this, the fluttering anxiety in his stomach beginning to settle slightly as he repeated the words aloud a few times. He sighed heavily and decided to be productive. He still needed to set up his Twitter page and link it, perhaps an Instagram account as well, one that his parents didn’t have to know about, and fuck he needed to sleep. 

His clock, glowing in the now dark of his room, was telling him more time had passed than he’d realised. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. 

He still needed to get to the studio early this morning. He’d practically begged the owner to let him record a demo, promising that it would be worth it, that he was good.  Luckily for him, there had been a short break very early in the morning before any decent musician worth a damn was awake. He plugged his phone in to charge and made sure he put it down out of reach from the bed. He’d just wake up in the middle of the night and check it otherwise. He just needed to know he wasn’t terrible, was that really so bad?

“Come on, Jask,” he mumbled “you can check after you record your demo. It’s not that long.”

It felt like fucking forever. 

Geralt was busy working at the garage when Yennefer messaged him. He huffed and pocketed his phone, giving his customer an apologetic hum before gesturing for them to continue. Yennefer hadn’t started the text with “Ciri!” so he could ignore it for now, that was their deal. He’d only check his texts from Yennefer at work if there was a problem with their daughter, but that never stopped her from trying. Yennefer got bored easily at work. Her mind was too brilliant and even working in a top law firm wasn’t enough to keep her mind from wondering, the monotony of paperwork getting the better of her. 

It didn’t help that she had assistants to take care of the worst shit for her. Geralt wasn’t exactly sure what Yennefer did all day. He was pretty sure she just organised her minions and planned to take over the world, in between bothering him at work, of course. 

He shook his head with a fond smile, as he watched the young blonde leave her precious Volkswagen Beetle behind. It was an old banged up thing, and she’d clearly bought it for the looks rather than practicality, and the engine had given out after only a month of her buying it. 

“Kids,” he scoffed. 

Business was business though, it brought in sorely needed cash.

Not as much as his other job… but that was a more lucrative role, one that only Yennefer knew about. He was careful to keep his face hidden, but so far he’d been lucky. No one else in his physical life knew about his OnlyFans account, probably because he was still just starting out. He’d only been at it a couple of months and he was, admittedly, not the best at having an online presence, which was why he’d begrudgingly asked Yennefer for her help. 

- New kid on the block, he’s just your type.

Yennefer’s message read, blunt as ever. He rolled his eyes and clicked the link. Sure enough there was a photograph of a young brunet straddling a chair, wearing fucking lingerie. He swallowed, staring at the photograph just a little too long. 

He growled and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He should have known better than to open the link at work. 

But that smile haunted him for the rest of the day, making every second drag, the world turning to a haze and every movement felt like he was wading through mud. He wanted to get home. 

He wanted to know more about this Dandelion. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his fingers to his forehead, hoping it would push the thoughts of the man from his mind. 

It didn’t. 

By the time he got back to his house he felt like he was on fire, his skin crawling, restless, burning. He showered as quickly as he could, just about managing to wash all the conditioner from his hair before stalking back to his room and firing up his laptop. He groaned as he finally had a chance to stalk Dandelion’s page. 

The second photograph was even better than the first, bright blue eyes searing into his mind, and the smile of a fucking angel. He looked young, mid-twenties, only a few years younger than Geralt probably, and he was exactly the sort of man he would do well on this goddamn site. He looked charismatic, easy on the eye, definitely flirty judging by the cheeky grin on his face, and he was probably excellent at the marketing side of things. 

Geralt glanced at his subscribers and cursed. Dandelion hadn’t even uploaded a video yet but his follower count was crawling up faster than Geralt’s ever had. 

And that made him… angry?

Jealous perhaps, but there was a bitterness growing in his heart now. 

He had to do better. He couldn’t allow this man to overtake him. He just couldn’t. 

He growled and shut his laptop with a snap, pulling out his phone with more force than necessary. Yennefer would know what to do. She was good at this sort of thing. He just hoped that he didn’t need to explain himself. It was pathetic and irrational but… he wanted to win. 

Jaskier stumbled upon the White Wolf’s page purely by accident. He’d been looking for inspiration before filming his first video. He knew what he wanted to film but he was tired and wasn’t really sure he was in the mood for it, so he began to scroll. He’d unsubscribed from a lot of accounts to save money but the silver-haired Adonis had caught his attention. 

The leather strapped around his otherwise bare torso helped. Jaskier was weak for a man in leather. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Jaskier was putting in his details to subscribe, sending off a silent apology to his bank account.

The White Wolf was the silent brooding type, never quite revealing his face, but that wasn’t uncommon. His long hair fell down past the man’s pecs, curling at the ends just above the black leather straps. Chest hairs trailed down the man’s torso, the photo cropped before revealing anything else. Jaskier let out a low whimper at the thought of what might be revealed. 

He groaned and scrambled for his bottle of lube before letting out a curse. 

He had a video to shoot. 

He didn’t have time to jerk off to this god’s account. He grumbled and got changed into the turquoise lingerie from the photoshoot. He had decided to use the photos as a teaser for his first video, creating some continuity and helping to create a brand that he could build on. He hummed happily as he pulled up the stockings, they felt soft against his skin, bringing a fragility to his otherwise muscular frame. 

Not quite as muscular as Wolf’s. 

What wouldn’t he give to lick the lines of those abs?

Once he was dressed, he pulled out his makeup bag. He wasn’t quite as skilled with eyeliner as Essi yet so he settle for a smudged black look before adding the red to his lips. He gave himself a once over in the mirror, flashing a smile. It wasn’t perfect but it was only his first video. He’d get more practice as he worked. After one final check of the lighting in his room – well, his temporary room thanks to darling Priscilla – he made sure he had lube nearby. With shaking hands, he set up the camera and clicked record. He would edit both the start and the end of the video later. 

He sighed and then let a seductive smile grace his lips as he winked at the camera, kneeling on the bed.

“Hello darling,” he purred in a low voice “I am so happy you could join me.”

He pictured the chiseled torso of his Wolf, mind filling in the blanks of his face, square jaw, soft warm brown eyes, perhaps stubble on his cheek. He felt the warmth of arousal pool in his core at that thought, his cock filling out in the lacy underwear. Definitely stubble then. He wanted to feel the scratch against his cheek, his neck… his arse. 

His fingers had drifted down his chest and were toying with the hem of his panties without him even realising it. His eyes fluttered open as he remembered his audience. 

“Oops,” he breathed “forgot where I was for a moment there, sweetheart. You don’t mind, do you?”

He paused. 

It felt right. 

God, he had no idea that he was doing, but the idea of people on the other end of that camera, watching him. Fuck, he hadn’t known he’d be into that. He palmed himself through the thin fabric, letting out a slightly exaggerated moan so the camera would pick it up. 

He wondered if Wolf would see this, would he get hard watching Jaskier touching himself… would he touch his own cock? 

Jaskier’s breath hitched and he bit his lip. He locked eyes with the camera as he let out a sigh. “I’ve just been feeling so lonely, it won’t take much tonight, just the thought of you.”

The words felt awkward, stunted but it was only his first video and blood was flowing away from his brain right now, making improv difficult. He’d need a script for next time. 

“It’s my first video so I wanted to get dressed up, do you like it?” a pause “It feels so soft against my skin.”

His other hand reached up to stroke his nipples through the lace. He tilted his head back and rolled his hips forward to his cock brushed against his own hand, another moan escaping his lips, playing it up for the camera. “Shall I keep them on?” he asked the camera, voice huskier than he was expecting. Fuck this was affecting him more than he imagined. 

He swallowed, and licked his lips, fingers pulling down his panties to reveal the tip of his cock already leaking onto the brightly coloured lace. “I might ruin them… but I think you’d like that…”

Would Wolf like that… watching Jaskier cum all over the pretty panties. 

Jaskier whined, smearing the precum over his hand and then down the length of his cock under the lace. The touch sent waves of pleasure through his whole body, and he let out a low curse. His eyes fell shut as he slowly stroked himself, taking his time, teasing himself. He pictured his Wolf pulling the straps of his bra down off his shoulders, pressing kisses into his neck, biting on his shoulders as he touched him. God he really needed to watch his videos, if he could pull such vivid images of the man from just one photograph. 

“Fuck, that feels so good…” he gasped, struggling to keep his movements slow. He forced his eyes open to look at the camera. He could only imagine how he looked right now, eyes dark, cheeks flushed, lips red from where he’d been biting them, one hand working on his cock, the other pinching at his nipples through sinfully see-through fabric. 

“I want you to touch me so bad,” he gasped “would you fuck me, if I ask?” 

He swallowed, imagining Wolf’s hands on his hips, pressing bruises into his skin… spreading his cheeks apart… fingers dripping with lube, ready to stretch him. He bit his lip again, almost hard enough to draw blood. He hadn’t noticed he was fucking into his own hand, thighs burning as he knelt on the fresh silk sheets. He was close, too close… not what he’d meant for this video but it was too late now… he couldn’t hold back.

He gripped his cock harder, stroking faster, the underwear pushed down by his efforts. 

“I. I can’t…” he stammered through the haze “I need, please…”

He almost sobbed, begging his unseen audience. “Please.”

He pinched roughly on his nipple, the sharp pain tipping him over the edge, and he came all over his hand with a wordless cry. 

He struggled not to collapse onto the bed, but he did rest back on his ankles as he gasped for breath. “Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely… surprised by the intensity of his orgasm. He glanced up at the camera with a smirk, flicking his tongue out to lick his lips. “Until next time, darling.” 

He winked at the camera and then crawled forward so he could turn it off. Once that was done, he fell back on the bed with a contented sigh before remembering the state of his pants. He grimaced and reluctantly got up to go shower, the thought of the White Wolf still lingering in his mind.

________

Next

Taglist (18+): @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos @moonysourenza @frances-the-red @honeysuckletook @elliestormfound @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral  @kittynannygaming @stinastar @fontegagrilledcheese @baka-yu @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @justjess94 @kozkaboi @wherethewordsare Let me know if you want to be added for this story or in general!

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Float Like A Butterfly... Ch.6 ...Sting Like A Bee

Summary: An unexpected ally appears before Marinette. The only problem is, he's stumbled onto something he shouldn't have. And she needs it back.

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

Marinette was having a terrible day.

First she shows up late with the principal accessory of the Gabriel line's Fashion Week showing. Fashion Week! Marinette was looking forward to it all month! 

Next Audrey Bourgeois, Style Queen herself, treats the hat Marinette worked so hard on like gum on the bottom of her shoe. Sure Adrien had been super encouraging but he hadn't seen the look of utter contempt on Audrey Bourgeois face. No one could look that disgusted all the time!

Speaking of Adrien, he didn't make getting over him any easier by being so kind.

And if that wasn't enough Marinette's brain insisted on using Chat Noir's Miraculous to fight the akumatized villain. Again! She didn't want to think about Chat Noir right now because... Because... Marinette blinked rapidly. Deep breath... Because thinking about Chat Noir was painful.

But that wasn't even the worst part.

"Don't worry, Tikki. We'll get the box right after the show," Marinette stage whispered so as to not alert her parents. Who walked not even a meter away.

Tikki let out a concerned whine. Oh, this was a bad idea. She could feel it. Marinette was right that they couldn't get away from her parents beforehand. But that only made Tikki even more anxious to get searching. And Marinette really didn't need something else to worry about on top of... everything else.

She hoped no one found it.

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

Chloe's day was ridiculous. Utterly, ridiculous!

She sat next to her mother as Adrien walked down the runway. Lingering dread squashed and thrown into the very back of her mental walk-in closet where she kept unimportant things. Like shoes she never wore anymore, problematic outfits and lingering guilt that totally wasn't her's. Adrien wasn't slowly disintegrating anymore so why dwell on the past?

Adrien's performance was flawless and Chloe was absolutely certain she appreciated his efforts more than anyone else... Even if Alya Cesaire was livestreaming.

The show went off without a hitch. Adrien seemed fine but then he was almost as good at pretending as she was. Chloe eyed him as Gabriel's lackey, um, assistant pulled him along. Not physically, of course. It was more of a metaphorical pulling.

Ugh, Gabriel Agreste started talking with Chloe's mother through his assistant's tablet. Like, yeah, apologizing to the Queen of Style was a no brainer. But he could have at least come in person! Not like Gabriel was doing anything important besides being the world's richest hermit.

... And Dupain-Cheng was there too. Of course she was. At least her mother would put Dupain-Cheng in her place. Chloe felt herself smirk at the thought.

Adrien raised an eyebrow. As though reading her mind.

Chloe pretended not to notice. No petty satisfactions here! No, sir! But it wasn't like the Queen of Style was going to say anything about Dupain-Cheng's hat except-

"It's the most exceptional thing I've ever seen!" Audrey Bourgeois announced.

Exact- Wait, what!?

"You're a visionary, Marinette! Glitter's had its day..."

Chloe's ears rang, drowning out her mother's voice. Exceptional? Her? Over a- a- a hat!? A vice squeezed Chloe's chest with cruel precision. When her own present was rejected without even unwrapping it!? Chloe's fists shook as she bit her tongue.

"Isn't that nice for your friend, Chloe dearest?" Andre Bourgeois asked.

"It's ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!" Chloe whirled on her mother. "I've never been to New York with you and you're taking Marinette Dupain-Cheng!?" She spat.

"I'm afraid I have a last minute meeting to attend, my dear Audrey," Gabriel announced from the tablet. "Nathalie, bring Adrien home immediately."

Adrien's attention snapped from Chloe to Gabriel. "But, Father, I-"

"Do not embarrass me in front of the Bourgeois," Gabriel snapped, ending the call.

Jaw clenching shut, Adrien stared at nothing with stormy eyes as Nathalie led him away.

"I'm taking her because she's exceptional, Claudette. Uh- Chloe," Audrey stated matter-of-factly, the Agrestes already forgotten.

"I'm exceptional too!" Chloe shot back.

Audrey inspected her white gloves, bored of this exchange. "The only exceptional thing about you, my dear-" Audrey deigned to glance at her daughter. "-is your mother."

Chloe's blood boiled as she shook off Andre's hands on her shoulders, standing straighter. "I'll show you how exceptional I can be!" she promised.

Just as an akuma entered Chloe's present.

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

Alya was having an amazing day!

Her livestreams hadn't gotten this many new views since she almost got sacrificed by Pharaoh. The Ladyblog's activity was up. And Ladybug chose her as the Black Cat!

Sure it was weird that Ladybug didn't want to talk about it. But still! Black Cat! Alya tried to contain her grin as she thought about being Ladybug's partner for a day...

Her pace on the sidewalk slowed, enthusiasm dampening a little... Setting her face in determination Alya skipped into gear. All the more reason to piece together what happened! And she'd start with-

A burst of yellow light shot forth from the Grand Palais. Jolting Alya out of her thoughts as the newest akuma victim gave their villain speech from the roof.

"I am Queen Glitter! And from now on the only exceptional person in Paris will be me!"

Alya ran... straight for the villain who was obviously Chloe as she summoned a cloud of glitter and shapped it into a collection of accessories. The constructs restricting the movement of whoever they landed on. Scarves wrapping people's legs together or tying them to lampposts. Hats covering people's eyes as they tried to yank them off. There was even someone with his hands stuck in high heels. Queen Glitter made a giant floating scarf to stand on and took off in a random direction; leaving a trail of gaudy accessories in her wake.

Great. It was going to take forever to catch up to her now! Taking cover in an alleyway so Queen Glitter's sparkly formal wear wouldn't notice her, Alya scanned the street. Mentally kicking herself for not having recorded the villain speech for the Ladyblog.

"Looks like you're raring to go," Ladybug observed as she landed next to Alya. A familiar box in her hand.

"Ladybug! Didn't think I'd be helping out again so soon!" Alya held out her palm and Ladybug placed the Black Cat Miraculous in her hands again.

"Y'know the drill, right?" Ladybug's eyes wandered to the people in various states of running-for-their-lives.

"Give it back when we're done and don't take it personally," Alya paraphrased as Plagg emerged in a ball of light when she placed the ring on her finger.

"Ladyblog girl again?” Plagg gave her a once over. Ears flat against his head but swishing tail betraying his apprehension. "Well, at least Alya's not blue boy."

“He wasn’t that-“ Ladybug shook her head. “Y’know what, never mind.”

Glancing between them Alya filed that tidbit away for later. "C'mon, Plagg. We did great together!"

"You were okay," Plagg acknowledged. "Could've used more cat puns."

Alya chuckled. Of course he'd like those. With a -slightly forced- encouraging smile from Ladybug, Alya called out: “Plagg, transforme-moi!”

Green lightning traveled from Chat Noir’s ring across both arms and down her torso. A green sash wrapping around her waist and trailing into a tail. Running her clawed gloves through her hair as cat ears materialized. Said hair puffing up into an afro. Armor padding her shoulders and torso. Alya flexed her fingers to get used to the feeling. Chat Ombre's suit still felt strange on her skin compared to Rena Rouge.

Ladybug leapt onto the rooftops and Chat Ombre followed her lead. Racing towards the villain while avoiding her glitter. "So what's the plan?"

"Queen Glitter is basically a reskin of Style Queen," Ladybug thought aloud.

"But without that annoying habit of turning into a cloud!" Chat Ombre supplied.

Ladybug launched her yo-yo at a pedestrian and yanked him away from Queen Glitter's constructs as they passed by. "But she can spread her power over a wider area."

"Don't worry, Ladybug. We'll be- Look out!" Alya tackled Ladybug out of the way as a trio of glittery top hats zoomed past.

"Your reign is over Ladybug and wannabe Chat Noir!" Queen Glitter announced as she floated over them. Her appearance was similar to Style Queen except her crown was even bigger and gaudier. A foux glitter scarf around her shoulders. "I don't even care if you don't give me your Miraculous! I'll simply immobilize you and take them by force!"

They evaded a flurry of coats by jumping down to the street. "Really?" Chat Ombre called out. "That all you can throw at us? A tacky outfit?"

"Wouldn't be the first time!" Ladybug agreed.

"No one ever appreciates my gifts!" Queen Glitter stomped her foot. "Fine then. Why don't we try something more expensive!" Raising her hands she lifted two cars wrapped with giant bows into the air.

Alya's eyes widened. "Oh, shi-" Chat Ombre evaded Chloe's attacks as the villain played wack-a-chat. Glitter accessories flying in and attempting to restrict their movements as well.

Ladybug wrapped one of the vehicles with her yo-yo and spun it back at Queen Glitter.

The bright red sports car hurled towards her and- She stopped it with the palm of her hand. "You'll have to do better than that if- Where'd you go!?" Queen Glitter scanned the empty street, rising higher for a better vantage point.

Chat Ombre locked eyes with her for a second before a chimney obscured her line of sight. "Somehow I don't think that bought us much time." Alya voiced as a wave of clothing rose over the city.

Ladybug spotted a strip of blue between the rooftops. Thinking quickly, Marinette grabbed Alya's hand and turned them towards the Seine. Diving into its waters with a torrent of glitter in their wake.

Queen Glitter's constructs crashed into the river and washed away with the current.

Chat Ombre made for the surface once it was clear but Ladybug pulled her back. Chat's staff in her hand and yo-yo on her face. Pointing towards the magic tool Ladybug offered it to Alya.

Nodding, Alya quickly pressed it to her lips and took a deep breath, sweet oxygen filling her lungs. Giving Ladybug a thumbs up once she didn't feel like her chest was on fire.

Grabbing her hand Ladybug led Alya further upstream until they found a boat.

Gasping the (relatively) fresh air Alya examined Chat's staff. "I didn't know it could do that."

"Yeah, the Miraculous are full of surprises. And we'll need one of our own to beat Queen Glitter. Lucky Charm!"

A spotted snorkel fell into Ladybug's hands.

"Don't we already have one of those?" Chat Ombre asked.

Ladybug's brow furrowed as she stared at it. "Yeah... Wait, Queen Glitter's powers don't work underwater!"

"So, all we need to do is get her there!" 

Ladybug glanced at a pair of recycling bins. "And I know just how to sneak up on her."

Chat Ombre grinned. She liked this plan.

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

Chat Ombre hated this plan!

It had all gone smoothly. The glitter constructs ignoring the recycling bins they used as disguises. Snake style. Chloe was dumbfounded when she saw them. Enough to let them take the elevator up to the Grand Paris' rooftop where Queen Glitter set up her makeshift throne. Giving them the opportunity to tackle her towards the Seine.

Unfortunately, Queen Glitter could make constructs of any size. Like, for example, a wide brimmed hat big enough to stretch from either bank of the Seine.

"You were going to make me wear this?" Queen Glitter held up the Lucky Charm- "No thanks!" -and struck it across her knee.

Alya winced as the villain broke Ladybug's insta-win button in half. "Please, tell me you have a plan?" Chat Ombre glanced at the spotted hero currently wrapped up in an extra long scarf just like she was. The floating constructs squeezing just a little bit more as Ladybug struggled against them. Alya tried bending her wrist to Cataclysm her restraints but her right hand was held away from the rest of her body.

"No planning! Not that it'll do you any good. I've already won! Me! Queen Glitter! MWAHAHAHAH- Do you mind? I'm trying to savour the moment!" Chloe snapped as Papillon's emblem glowed over her face.

Alya's head turned from an increasingly frantic Ladybug to the annoyed villain.

"Of course I'm going to take their Miraculous! Why wouldn't I take their Miraculous?"

"An excellent question, your Highness!"

Three pairs of eyes snapped towards the source of the unexpected voice.

"... Who the heck are you supposed to be?" Queen Glitter demanded.

"Aristos! At your service!" He bowed with a flourish, giving Alya a good look at the bee shaped comb at the base of his ponytail. Blond hair highlighted with black stripes. Goggles obscuring his face, making his green eyes hard to read despite the grin on his lips. Suit mostly yellow with black, V-shaped stripes on his torso, forearms and lower legs. Three hexagons on his chest giving the impression of honeycombs.

"No no no no no no." Ladybug stared at Aristos, not realizing that she was speaking aloud.

...Well, that can't be good, Alya thought.

"Ha! Did you really think more insects would help, Ladybug?" The villain mocked. Her constructs closing in on the interloper.

Aristos' smile took on a darker edge. "I'm not with her, your Majesty. I'm here to pledge myself to the most exceptional Queen I've ever seen! Really, where does Papillon get off talking to such a glittery figure as your Highness like that?"

Alya blinked. Really? Even Chloe wouldn't fall for-

Raising her hand the villain halted her constructs' advance. "Hmm, well at least you know how to treat royalty." Queen Glitter offered her bejeweled fingers. "I guess you can be my underling."

Ah. Right. Never underestimate the power of Chloe's ego.

The Bee, Alya was ninety-nine percent sure he was the Bee, took Chloe's offered hand and leaned down. Lips hovering over the back of her hand. "Oh! That reminds me your Highness, I have a gift for you."

Queen Glitter's eyes shone. "A present? For me? It better be the latest- Ow! I'm getting to that!" She snapped at Papillon, looking away from the Bee to glare at the absent supervillain.

Aristos removed the striped top Alya recognized as his Miraculous tool from around his waist.

"You didn't beat them! I did!"

Casually, carefully, Aristos placed his top on Queen Glitter's hand. Point against her glittering skin.

"You couldn't do it yourself so you sent me!"

"Venom," the Bee breathed.

"What was-"

Queen Glitter froze as Aristos' top glowed; his power paralyzing her. The constructs bursting into clouds of glitter. Chat Ombre landed in a crouch as her restraints vanished.

"It worked." Aristos sounded as surprised as Alya felt. "It worked! Yes! Nailed it!" He pumped his fist as relief overflowed and- Was he crying?. "Independent hero debut successful!"

"What?" Ladybug was staring at the Bee apprehensively and that didn't help Alya's nerves.

Aristos' mood instantly became more subdued. Blinking rapidly to get the water out of his eyes. "Oh, right. You're still here."

Chat Ombre tried not to take that personally. He did just save them, after all.

Ladybug stepped forward. Voice even, diplomatic. Never mind that she seemed this close to freaking out. "Listen, Aristos was it? I don't know how you found that Miraculous but you have to give it back."

His face was disturbingly neutral. "...Don't I get a 'thank you' for saving the day?"

The tension in Ladybug's shoulders wouldn't budge. "Thank you, but I really need that Miraculous back." She held out her hand.

Aristos stared at Ladybug's hand like it was something alien. Cracks appearing in his facade. "Yeah, pass."  Walking backwards, away from Ladybug and Chat Ombre, he kept them in his field of vision.

"Wh- The- Y-you can't just decide that!" Ladybug sputtered, stepping forward.

"Just did! How do I even know this Miraculous is even yours?" Aristos asked, increasing the distance between them.

Alya got the distinct impression that he was bullshitting them.

"I'm the one who lost it!"

Alya's eyes widened. "You lost a Miraculous?"

"Not helping, Chat!"

Aristos' features twitched, eyes narrowing. "Sure you say it's yours but how do I know that?"

Chat Ombre bristled at the implication. "Ladybug is the Hero of Paris!"

Aristos gave her a once-over, his expression inscrutable, but said nothing.

Wow. Rude.

"That Miraculous belongs to the G- to me."

"That's interesting because I say it belongs to me." Aristos laid a hand on his chest. "Looks like it's your word against mine. Guess which one I'm choosing?"

Ladybug's yo-yo was suddenly spinning in her hand. "I swear, I'm not gonna lose another-"

An insistent beeping from Ladybug's earrings interrupted her.

"Welp! Love to stay and dance but it looks like you two need to buzz off before your precious identities are exposed to little old me."

Why did he sound bitter? Everything about him made Alya's head spin with questions. Not least of which being how the heck someone holding the Bee Miraculous showed up in the first place.

Taking his top, Aristos hopped onto the edge of the Grand Paris' roof. "Might want to deal with her before that happens."

Alya looked to where he was pointing to see Queen Glitter still paralyzed. When she glanced back at the Bee he was gone.

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

Adrien's day sucked.

Paris Fashion Week was always a chore but this year was even worse. Despite having friends around he felt lonelier than ever. Getting to talk to Marinette only helped so much. Adrien was still expected to plaster on a smile and represent 'the brand'.

And that was before he got turned into a freaking statue!

At least it's better than mind control.

Shut up!

He did not want to see Ladybug or her new partner up close and personal! Thank you, very much! But like always what Adrien wanted didn't matter.

Imagine his surprise when a Miraculous practically falls into his lap. A familiar glow blooming in his chest against all reason as Adrien opens the box.

"Hello, my King," the unknown, bee-like kwami greets formally.

There's a turning in his stomach that Adrien tries his best to calm it. "H-hi! I'm Adrien. What's your name?"

"I am Pollen," she bowed. "Kwami of Subjection. An honor to meet you. It has been a long time since I've had a king."

"Just Adrien is fine." Taking the Miraculous, a comb of all things, out of it's box Adrien stares at it. It's disguise all black and only vaguely shaped like a bee compared to the details he glimpsed before Pollen came out.

"Of course, my King."

Adrien sighed. Pollen was nothing like Plagg. Then again, Adrien wasn't sure the world could survive two of him. The lazy little jerk was enough to drive any Guardian mad all by himself... God, he missed Plagg.

"Um, anyway, how does your power work?"

Pollen clapped her small appendages together. "It's very straightforward, my King. You simply call out 'Venom' and your top will activate. Then strike your opponent with the point and they'll be paralyzed for however long you desire." She whooshed toward him for emphasis.

"Paralyze..." That was certainly more straightforward than using Cataclysm.

'Cause you sucked at that, didn't you?

Shut up. This was... What was he doing? When Adrien held the Bee in his hands he felt... Alive. Like a promise that things could be better this time around.

Adrien jumped as insistent knocking on his changing room door startled him out of his thoughts.

"M. Agreste? Mme. Sancoeur says we're back on in five."

"Be right out!" Brushing the Miraculous with his thumb to make sure it was really there Adrien placed it in his pocket. Hesitating for a moment he offered his jacket to Pollen.

Nodding, she zoomed into Plagg's old hiding place.

Taking a deep breath, Adrien opened the door. "Let's get this over with."

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

Adrien ran off as soon as Papillon's mark appeared on Chloe's face. Catching Marinette doing the same from the corner of his eye. Glass raining down as Queen Glitter broke through the Grand Palais' roof.

Pollen zipping out as he tied his hair into a makeshift ponytail. Holding it in place with the Bee Miraculous.

"Quickly, my King! Say 'Pollen, transforme-moi'!"

Adrien stared at her. He could hear screaming as people ran.

"My King!"

His oldest friend just got akumatized for the second time.

"My King!"

All he had to do was speak!

"Adrien!"

His knees shook as his back hit the wall behind him for support. "But... I wasn't chosen."

Pollen floated higher as her eyes widened in surprise. "Weren't you given my Miraculous?"

Adrien shook his head. "I f-found it... After giving up the Black Cat."

This time Pollen dipped as she nearly fell out of the air. "Chat Noir."

Adrien shook his head even more emphatically. Hands going up to cover his face. "N-no! Not him! Can't be him!" he choked.

Pollen laid her hand on his and Adrien tensed at the touch. "My King."

Something in her voice made Adrien look at her.

"You wish to help, do you not?"

"... Yes."

Pollen's eyes softened. "Then help."

Adrien stared at her. So sure that she'd want nothing to do with him once she knew what a failure he was... But that wasn't the case.

Rising shakily to his feet Adrien gave Pollen a grateful smile. "Pollen, transforme-moi'."

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

Aristos panted as he glanced up from the alleyway. Spotting no pursuers. "Pollen, detransforme-moi."

Landing on Adrien's outstretched palms, Pollen beamed tiredly at him. "Excellent work, my King."

Adrien smiled back. "Oh! What do you eat? Plagg loves Camembert but..."

"That would be fine. However, I prefer something sweeter."

"Yeah..." A weight settled on his chest. "Let's see what we can find..."

Pollen frowned. "Is something wrong, my King?"

Adrien avoided her gaze. What was he supposed to say? That disobeying Ladybug felt wrong? That he almost let his guilt and resentment make him say cruel things to his replacement? That his heart wouldn't stop pounding? "It's just... Do you want to go back?"

Pollen blinked.

"You're supposed to listen to the Guardian, right?" Adrien bit his lip as his heart tried jumping up his throat. "It's not fair of me to keep you if you want to go back."

Pollen sat up on his palms. "I have been in the Miracle Box for a long time, my King. I can think of worse things than spending what time I have outside it with you."

Adrien's eyes burned as he wiped away tears. "Thanks, Pollen."

Ladybugs swirled in the sky as they repaired the city.

"Of course, my King," Pollen smiled.

"Call me Adrien."

"Yes, my King."

Adrien sighed. A smile coming to his lips. Looks like Aristos was sticking around for a while.

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

Retroactively giving Black Cat Alya an afro.

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hi moosh! Could I have sfw letters APW for dante, vergil, nero, and V? Thank you!

So this is my first piece for devil may cry, I hope it turned out well I'm still ify on it, especially with V's and a part of Vergil but I hope you guys like it anyway!

Dante 

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Dante is a pretty chill guy, but he really doesn’t get out that much besides to go do a job, out to get drinks and to gamble (losing most of his last payment from Morrison in the process and getting absolutely screamed at by both you and Lady) at the local bar, and to get a Strawberry Sundae at Fredi’s, most of these activities he loves for you to tag along with him (some partially to make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble *cough cough* like losing most of his fucking money *cough*) especially hunting if you can hold yourself in a fight, he gets a kick out of watching you kick demon ass and finds it really hot so expect a lot of flirty banter that’s filled with terrible puns and other dorky eye rolling one liners. This lovable fucking dork.

However most of your time spent together is in the office, which you can find the two of you laying on the couch watching the old busted television watching old movies or listening to the old busted jukebox that has been playing the same sixteen songs for the last thirty years (Dante stop abusing your shit) or just telling each other shitty stories the both of you have heard from one another countless of times, but somehow when he tells it again it somehow feels just as enjoyable as the first with somehow a different twist to it and when you tell it he always that charismatic talent that Dante just has this big heart throbbing grin on his face as he listens and it just makes your words sometimes stop that even he has to tell you to keep going, or just cooking together (and by together, I mean you doing 99% of the work because this man is forever banned anywhere near a oven anymore) because yeah sure pizzas 24/7 is fun and all but if there’s one thing (besides watching you kick demon ass) that he loves to watch you do it’s cooking and not only does he get to watch you excitedly dash from one part of the kitchen looking for ingredients and get a little messy along the way, he also gets something to eat out of it too in the end. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Embarrassment to show his absolute adoration for you in public? No way! Dante is all about that PDA, unless you’re uncomfortable with it then he’ll respectfully lay off...but sometimes he finds it really hard when you’re just super cute when talking to the crew about a job, it's just something about that look of thrill in your eye that always grabs his attention. But if you’re down with it, let the lap sitting, quick heated kisses, bad suggestive pick up lines, and questionable touches commence! 

Dante is the number one choice for a feel better boost, if you’re feeling unsure and doubtful of your abilities be prepared to see this man recite everything fucking cool, smart, and badass thing he’s ever seen you do, so it’s a given Dante absolutely loves bragging about you to people. As he’s sharing tales of your badassery, there’s a glint of pure love in his eyes as he looks back to you and watches as your doubts begin to slowly fade away to the back of your mind, and of course if this is a recurring issue you might find even the rest of giving you compliments from time to time, even from Vergil (which almost gave you a heart attack from the shock hearing that from the eldest son of Sparda) 

Kisses from Dante are never shy, when he wants to show affection to you he’s never shy about it. Kisses from him are always the type that shoots butterflies to your stomach and makes you feel dizzy afterwards, his favorite to pull over you are when you’re in the middle of working on paperwork (his fucking bills) and surprising you with them because always without fail you get drag away from your work and go to cuddle on the couch, bills to be forgotten (and he wonders why his electric shuts off all the time) The crew immediately learns quickly that Dante really doesn’t have any shame, but reactions vary when they stumble upon it with Trish and Morrison are the two not to really give a shit to be bothered by it, Lady, Vergil, and Nero just roll their eyes at it before going back to do their own thing, Nico lets the: “get a room love birds” and other types of teasing lines and whistles fly every chance she gets, Lucia either embarrassed and covering her eyes or scolding the both of you for being that ‘personal’ out in the open like that, and Patty asks really uncomfortable questions. Dante for the most part gets a kick out of all of it!

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

I think it's very clear that he mimics actions he sees in movies (just look at how he fucking uses Cerberus for example) and so lots of what he does romantically is stuff he's seen in romance films he remembers watching with his mother and brother when he was younger or films that when he really has nothing better to do and Patty brings (all with titles he can never pronounce) to the office on a lazy afternoon and that's the reason why his view of romance is so cliche. When asked jokingly about it, he'll give a shrug and answer with the fact that the love between his parents, forbidden lovers, is a cliche trope itself and from the very few memories he has of his mother and father together he definitely remembers how sappy they were together, so sappy that it might've carried over into their kids (Vergil you don't escape this, just you wait) 

 So that being said, with the heart shaped chocolates, the roses to start every date with, several dates under candle light on the roof of the shop under a full moon, no matter how cliche it may be the confident wide eye grin on his face during them will never fail to make your heart skip a beat. 

Vergil 

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Vergil of course really likes to take every opportunity to train whenever he can so that he can be sure he's able protect those he cares for, so he really likes when you take the time to spare with him so not only he can stay in top shape for whatever danger that may come in the future but also so that you can do the same that he doesn't feel like it's all up to him to protect you when he is assured you can protect yourself, this keeps his mind from wandering to dark power lusting places.

On free days that there's no jobs in sight and there's not a focus on training, Vergil of course likes to read in his book. Flipping through the pages of his old precious childhood possession he feels himself at ease and even more so if the two of you are laid up together in bed in the privacy of your shared room, your head laid softly on his chest with his hand in your hair subconsciously combing through it as he reads Blake's words aloud to you in a quiet voice as if the words were only meant for you to hear.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Listen, all the Sparda men are romantic in their own way to the core, I like to think it’s in their genes and this is Vergil we’re talking about, this man is an absolute traditional romantic with absolutely no PDA. I mean come on, again this is Vergil we're talking about this is to be expected the son of Sparda prefers to keep his romantic life absolutely private between the two of you. To be honest it takes only the closest people in the two of your lives to realize that the two of you are even together, so basically only those who are at Devil May Cry frequently. The tale tell is that out of everyone you end up being on the end of Vergil's...Vergilness the least bit, sure there are moments but at least you haven't been stabbed by Yamato or had any summoned swords shot at you like everyone in the office has been at least once (although this also applies to Kyrie but I see her never really doing anything that would really bother him) and he also gives to rare non sarcastic compliments, which blows Dante's mind every time it occurs. 

Vergil doesn't brag about you, he compliments, and true hearted compliments from Vergil are rare, but when they happen you always know he 100% means it especially if he does it in front of others. This is the only form of PDA he feels comfortable with doing, and usually they're about how you did in fights or a super rare version: that he's proud of you. 

Again Vergil believes all romantic acts should be savory in the privacy between each other, so it's obvious that he doesn't like kissing in public. However, if you were to hypothetically I don't know...give him a peck on the cheek or go even more scandalous the lips while he's at phone duty in the office while Dante and the others are around the pool table and sitting area or in Nico's van while waiting to drive off with the crew to whatever next job, his cheeks might turn into a interesting shade of pink. 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

It takes patience to be in a relationship with Vergil, in the beginning he'll be closed off and won't share what he's thinking (but it says a lot with how much he does trust and care for you to be in a commitment with you) but as time goes on he'll slowly start to open up more and more as he lets himself accept the human in him to love you, and at this point he'll start to share things that are very close and dear to him. 

He has very fond memories of watching old black and white romance films with his mother and Dante, who only would watch them because the moment they would end he would immediately beg him to train with him, but with him falling down to hell and being corrupted since he was only nineteen to him he remembers memories of when he and Dante were kids more clearly than his brother can since to him they don't feel as they happened a long ago so he remembers watching these films from long ago in very great detail. So of course the moment he can find some of these films with the help from a hesitant Nero (still getting used to the whole dad ripping arm off thing and all) to find and order those they could find online. From the very moment he has the old tapes in his hands do they become as precious as you, Yamato, his amulet, and his book (as well as a little bit of Nero but it takes him a while to come to terms with it) so with this being something very emotionally important to him, and after very long pandering about it, he asks you to watch these films with him (he also considered asking Dante but figured since he didn't practically like the these films as children that he wouldn't want to to watch them now, absolutely no idea about the cliched dork he is now because of these types of films) The entire time you find yourself struggling to pay attention to the actual film instead you find yourself drawn to the deep nostalgic look in your lover's eyes as he's glued to the screen. For a while you're not even sure if he's actually watching the black and white picture either with how he eyes seem to be playing out scenes of the past and this is the first time you've ever seen this much emotion on his face at once. You end up holding a tight securing grip on his hand throughout the rest of the film, one normally he wouldn't hold for as long but you find his fingers subconsciously rubbing against yours from time to time. Once the nostalgic movie night ends the two of you don't say much to each other, which Vergil appreciates since how much emotional significance that it had on him and with the feeling that he's glad he got to spend it with you. 

Nero

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

He likes killing demons with you, it's in his blood. Just seeing you in action will without fail boost confidence in him and makes him want to show off for you, which ends with him getting hurt and scolded by you many times but he wouldn't have it any other way. 

Well, he really finds himself doing a lot doing jobs with Nico on the road as of late so except a lot of quality time together on jobs and in the van. When the two of you aren't out kicking demon ass expect a ton of sitting around in the van watching whatever happens to come in on Nico's very small and very shitty portable tv, this is when you learn your boyfriend has actually a lot of a surprising amount of trivia on shows that hadn't been in production in decades but are shown as frequent reruns on low quality channels that coincidently air in Fortuna's limited broadcast range. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

I feel like during the time around dmc 4, Nero at that point was absolutely super embarrassed with the idea of PDA, not even getting started with his insecurities about his arm, but I feel about now after his experience with dating Kyrie for a few years he gotten use to it a little bit. However that doesn't mean he won't get entirely red faced by teasing comments from Dante or Nico even if he was just looking at you for a few seconds longer than he should've.

Fuck yeah he brags about you to others. You're a badass, and he absolutely loves that. During a fight he'll gladly give you a cocky Nero way of approval by saying that even he should try and catch up before flashing you a smug ass grin before revving up Red Queen and jumping into the next hoard of demons.

Again Nero gets embarrassed easily, however unlike his father he's not totally against it but it depends on whose exactly around. For example if it's Lady or Trish, hell even Morrison he's perfectly comfortable with giving you a kiss hello/goodbye or wrapping his arms around you just for the hell of it because he knows that they're chill and won't make a big deal out of it. But if it's anyone else...he feels not so much about it. Dante and Nico tease the hell out of him for days, Patty asks very uncomfortable person questions, Lucia gets really easily flustered about it, and Vergil and Kyrie for personal reasons would just rather not prefer to do anything around them. But every time you are the one to initiate any sort of affection, he'll immediately rub/scratch at his nose with a very dumb founded flustered look on his face. 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Nero is actually a good cook and absolutely loves cooking things for you and that is usually what happens for most dates, no matter how complicated the recipe he just seems to have a natural talent for it. So when it comes not only dates but to holidays as well, it's really funny to see the youngest relative of Sparda cooking away to serve the rest of the company on Christmas day when everyone knows damn well that neither his father or uncle has any clue how to work a kitchen and this is a fact that he holds proudly over his head. 

V 

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Well being Vergil's human half, I still say most things still somewhat apply to him but a little bit differently. V's not really the best partner to spar with for starters (the most I see him doing is letting you train with his familiars) but I feel that he still completely understands the reason why Vergil would desperately want that, but he has a little bit more in himself to have faith in you to know you can more than able to handle yourself with your abilities. 

Like with Vergil, V absolutely loves to read with you. It puts a nice warm feeling in his chest when the two of you are alone and with you in his arms as he reads to you as you both sit against Shadow and Griffon nesting nicely in your lap, all together like a nice small family. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

V, unlike Vergil, is torn between PDA. Like Vergil, he really does appreciate the privacy of time spent together behind closed doors but also he really does like the feeling of people seeing the two of you together as a couple, it brings out a heavy sense of pride and stroking his ego. 

V doesn't feel need to brag, he's proud of you and if you're with him you should know that by now, but if you're in need of some encouragement he always knows what right thing he's proud of you to pick you tight back up again. 

Kisses from V are never shy, will he do it often in front of others? Occasionally, but never frequent. When he does though they're always sudden and full of spark, you swear his lips are like an instant kill switch to your brain because once you realize that he's kissed you it's already hit you and most of the time you hear whistles and teases from Griffon (and sometimes Nico if she's around) that bring you back earth to (Name). 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Vergil's nightmares plague him a lot, I mean he's literally contracted to them. So expect a lot of countless of nights of him waking up in cold sweat and doing his best to keep his sobs down as the image of Nelo Angelo is burnt into his mind. He would rather not talk about it, but he really does appreciate feeling you holding him through the after shocks. Tracing his tattoos or gently combing your fingers through his hair will slowly calm him down enough to at least lay back down with you and hesitantly fall back asleep knowing you're there to fight off the plagues of his mind at a moments notice.

[incorrectlumityquotes]

FULL REVIEWS: “Lost In Language”

Lost in language and I don't know much. Was I thinking aloud and fell out of touch? But I'm back on my feet and eager to be what you wanted.

Seriously? Nothing? You guys have never heard Air Supply? I mean, they’re old AF but still. It’s a funny pun. Whatever.

Back in the day (like it was so long ago) I didn’t know what to expect from this episode. The only thing I caught from the description was library, but hoo boy, we got so much more!

I love the cold opens to this show. It always reminds me that Luz is a silly ass hyper fangirl who still wants life to play out like it does on TV. 

“Learning about love and life through the eyes of a child.”

Spoken like a true person who have never done any actual babysitting. The Bat Queen gets her own soft intro for another episode, which I’m noticing more and more re-watching this show. She pays Eda to watch her baby in exchange for a butt-ton of money. Eda, in classic Eda fashion, would rather not split the cash with Luz and gives her an errand to run so she doesn’t have to do it. 

I don’t know about you guys, but liked going to the library when I was a kid. It was the only way I could play computer games or go on the internet. Getting online is the easiest thing in the world today, but when I was a kid, it was a luxury my parents couldn’t afford. And dumb-dumb kid me didn’t know that you can borrow movies and comic for free at the library too. That’s how I saw Jaws for the first time.

The library at The Boiling Isles is almost exactly what I expected. Kinda like the Hogwarts library, but with a lot more teeth and eyes everywhere. Luz has a bunch of fun just messing around, until she stumbles upon the cutest goddamn thing ever!

Amity reading to kids at the public library in her free time. My god.

I’m with Luz here. Holy hell, I did not see that coming. I thought Amity was the rival character, the Draco Malfoy of the show, the reluctant ally, the jerk with the heart of gold DEEP in there somewhere. Instead she’s at the Kid’s Corner reading her favorite childhood classic to toddlers. I didn’t know there were angels in the demon realm.

Stop. Stop! You’re already cute.

Seriously this moment made me go “aw” and laugh at the same time. It was weird. Also how does this library have a manga section? Do they import these books from JAPAN in the HUMAN REALM? Is there a publishing company that acts as the middleman? Or are these just the books that the trash slugs ended up barfing on the beach somewhere? I’m thinking too hard about a throwaway joke in the background. Big brain hurt.

AND back to reality...

Luz tries to extend the hand of friendship to Amity and Amity rejects it. I have...thoughts.

First, they this up with another parallel to Azura in the beginning of the episode. I get it. It’s a theme that they are doing, but I would have rather have Luz try to befriend Amity because she wants to, not because Azura did it. It’s not the only reason she does it, but it does kinda bug me a bit. It kinda goes back to Luz wanting life to play out like a story. 

Also, a part of me thinks that this is something Amity likes to do alone. Her way of getting away from everyone else and just do something that she enjoys and makes her feel good. We have no proof that it gives her extra credit, so she could just use that as a way to save face. She seemed so happy to do it too. 

Finally, you know what this else this reminds me of? The Karate Kid and Cobra Kai. There’s a popular fan theory that has been around since the eighties that if you look at The Karate Kid from the rival’s perspective, the protagonist is the bully. I’m more than sure that’s what going on here. From Amity’s perspective, Luz just gets her into trouble. We’ll get more into that later.

Luz walks off dejected and we get the second big surprise to punch me in the face.

Holy hell, why the fuck are you two so goddamn fucking pretty? I mean, holy shit, look at these two. My god. And ERICA LINDBECK as Emira? Jesus Christ, I’m going to be feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling in places I can’t say!

Joking aside, we get one of our first full introductions that didn’t come with a soft intro from a previous episode. Enter Emira and Emira, Amity’s older siblings who in true sibling fashion like to give Amity a hard time.  

“Hey, mittens!”

This seems normal at first. Siblings always rib each other. No big deal.

Amity storms off. The twins introduce themselves proper to Luz (and the audience) and they mess around for a bit. 

In fact, they have so much fun messing around with Luz that they decide to invite her back afterhours to check out The Wailing Star. Luz thinks that this is a great way to get on Amity’s good side by befriending her siblings. Why she would think this I have no idea.

Meanwhile the B-plot continues its adventures in babysitting. I don’t like using the word filler (so I won’t) but this B-plot is really just for two things: setting up Escape of the Palisman and jokes. It does both. No harm, no foul.

Also the twins said for Luz to meet back at midnight and Luz was at The Owl House for like a hot second. There’s like a huge gap of time there. What did she do until midnight? Whatever. If it was important it would have been animated.

Also also, I love all of Luz’s little saying in this episode. She does it a lot but they cranked it up in this episode. Featuring great hits like:

“This sour lemon drop has a hidden sweet center.”

and

“I thought we were as cool as cucumbers but we’re as sour as pickles.”

and my favorite

“Call me a library book because they were checking me out.”

I hope they keep doing that.

Back at the literal Wailing Star (I laughed so hard), The twins and Luz discover that The Wailing Star brings the content of the books to life. Does that work for all books in The Boiling Isles or just the library? Enough. No more big brain. The three proceed to...mess around some more.

The twins discover offscreen (Really? Really.) that if you edit the contents of the book, you change what comes to life. Then the twins reveal their true objectives. Apparently, Amity has been tattling on the twins whenever they cut class or do whatever it is that they want. They’ve decided to look for her secret little hideaway (that they somehow know is in the library), find her diary and post all the pages all over school to teach her a lesson. 

Um, fucking no.

And here we enter the true lesson of this episode and probably the reason why Hecate is draw with two faces. People being more than just what they appear to be at face value. 

Amity appears to be the bully character of the show, and while she did bully Willow, Luz and King, there’s more to her than that. Amity is lonely. As a fellow person who grew up lonely, trust me. I can tell from a mile away. She puts pressure on herself to be the best at whatever she’s doing and to be the best. She hates that she follows the rules but people like her siblings seem to get rewarded for breaking the rules and doing whatever they want free of consequence. She sees the double standard that they live by and it angers her. But at the same time, everyone seems to give the twins a free pass so she can’t do anything about it. 

Even worse, there’s no one for her to confide in. It wouldn’t make it better but it would make it easier for her to just vent and get the bullshit out of her brain. She doesn’t like her friends and the one friend she did like...that’s for another episode. Hence, the diary. Amity is a big ball of frustration and loneliness. I know because I grew up in a very similar way.

When you’re forced to keep your anger inside you, you lash out at any little thing that bothers you just to ease your frustrations. It doesn’t make it okay but it’s the only way to cope sometimes just to get by.

The twins on the other hand seem like everything you’d want in a friend. They’re fun; they like you; they’re attractive; they’re attentive. But in reality, they live in a world where they believe consequences and accountability don’t apply to them. And they’ll do anything to keep it that way. Even humiliate their sister.

Luz seems like a happy-go-lucky, friends to all things kinda person, but she can also be innocently insensitive. She just does things hoping they turn out the way they would for Azura without considering how the people around her would feel about it.

It doesn’t make any of these characters two-faced. We just are different things to different people.

Amity discovers what’s going down and Luz (being the empathic person that she is) decide to try to go talk to her. 

Then I’m reminded that this is a horror-comedy.

My god, you’re ugly.

One climax later (don’t laugh), and Luz and Amity try to make amends with each other. They both have to think about how they’ve been treating the other, earning the title of bully or not. They’re not friends yet but this is...better.

FINAL SCORE: 5 - Loved it.

Damn, The Owl House is one a roll. That’s what? Three 5 scored episodes already? Hot damn. This episode was fun but it really hit hard with the character work on Amity. She quickly became one of the most interesting characters and a fan favorite. And the third act provided a good amount of horror to call this a horror comedy. The B-plot is fine but probably one of the weakest only saved by several funny jokes. This is one of those episodes I kept coming back to and a favorite to watch.

Could you two please not? I’m gonna get in trouble.

[stay-mon-army]

Good Food and Better Company

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,570 words

Pairing: Jeno x gender neutral!reader

You sigh deeply, flopping yourself down onto the dorm couch. You spent so much time at the Dreamie dorm, you might as well live here. You felt like you were here more often than even Chenle was.

The boys were currently finishing up practice at the company building, but they had given you the door code ages ago so that you could go into their dorm. You had cooked them all dinner- a congratulations gift for them completing everything in preparation for the release of their mini album Reload.

You glanced at the clock- 8:13. You knew that they would be tired after practicing all day, and coming home to a home cooked meal would lift all of their thin-running spirits. They had a few more minutes before they got out of practice, and then they’d take about 20 minutes to get home. You had told them to come straight back to the dorm and not to eat anything, so you figured they knew about you cooking for them. They may be crazy, but they weren’t stupid.

You pulled a blanket over your lap, leaning back and closing your eyes. The boys had been your friends for a long time now- you’d practically grown with them. You had met Jeno just before Dream had debuted and the past four years had been (pardon the pun) a dream. You couldn’t have asked for more understanding, hilarious, loyal friends than the seven dreamies- Mark would always be a dreamie in your heart, no matter how old you all became.

You begin to reminisce- thinking back to some of your favorite memories with the boys. You think of everything, from meeting Jeno to meeting the other boys, to the many days you had spent doing various things with the boys- Jisung teaching you how to play video games, watching basketball games with Chenle, going biking with Jeno and Jaemin (and complaining right along with Jaemin), pulling pranks with Renjun and Haechan (usually on each other).

You’re startled out of your daydreaming at the sound of the front door and rambunctious laughter. You check the clock and, surprisingly, 30 minutes has passed and the boys are officially home for the night. You’re about to rise from the couch to greet them when Jaemin comes screeching around the corner like he had hell on his heels. He spots you and practically dives at you.

“(Y/N)-ah, I’ve missed you.” He pulls you into a hug and whines into your hair, shaking and wiggling you around until the other boys finally enter the room as well.

“I’ve missed you too, Jaemin-ah. I didn’t miss your sweaty hugs, however.” You groan as you feel just how sweaty the poor boy is- it isn’t too bad, he isn’t dripping sweat, but it’s enough to not want to be pressed against him for an extended period of time.

“What~? No, you love my sweaty hugs!” He pulls you tighter, lifting you off of the couch as he stands to spin you off the ground.

You protest loudly, though you can tell from the laughter from the entrance that no one was going to be on your side of this. As much as the boys enjoyed having fun with you, they liked seeing you get teased by the others equally.

“Put me down, or I won’t let you eat any of the food I made!” This gets him to release you, petting your head with a cheshire cat grin across his face. He knows you would never actually deny him food, but he also knew that once you started threatening it (even jokingly) it meant it was the end of the joke.

All the boys move collectively towards the kitchen at this point— no doubt starving and excited for a home-cooked meal. They quickly spot the food you had left out for them— covered so that it would stay warm but placed across the kitchen island so they could dig right in when they arrived home. This is exactly what they did, of course. Thankfully you had eaten your small fair share when you had finished the food because they honestly looked like a pack of wild dogs— you wouldn’t trust putting your hand into that fray without losing it.

Instead you wander behind the boys, softly ruffling Jisung’s hair as you pass him, making him preen up at you with a small smile before turning back to the food before him. You end up behind Jeno, which is exactly where you want to be. You slip your arms around his waist as he sits on the stool at the island and rest your chin against his shoulder softly. You try not to be in the way of his eating, and follow his movements as he leans for certain dishes or to look over at a member who was doing something stupid.

He drops a hand to rest against yours; a way to show he noticed your presence, a way to show that he enjoyed your presence. Neither of you were very vocal in your relationship, but that was okay, you didn’t need words. Both of you had learned how to read each others body language when real communication wasn’t really necessary. Many days were spent together over the years in almost perfect silence, just soaking in each others existence for a while.

The boys downed the food in record time, obviously being ravenous after their hard day. You began to pull away from Jeno, intent on doing the dishes so that they wouldn’t smell up the dorm, because you knew the boys wouldn’t do them tonight. However, you were mistaken, as Jeno turns around quickly, catching you around the waist instead and pulling you back against him.

“Jaemin, please do the dishes.” Jaemin’s head whipped up, obviously about to protest, but when his eyes locked with yours and then glanced down and Jeno who now had his head pressed into your naval, he quickly shut his mouth.

He grabbed Haechan by the back of the shirt before Haechan could scurry off back to his 127 dorm, dragging him over to the other side of the island where the sink was located.

“I’ll wash, you dry.” A grumbled response that you couldn’t make out was uttered, but your thoughts were back on Jeno.

You ran your hand through his hair gently, letting your fingers slowly work out knots as they found them and massage his scalp lightly. Jeno’s chest rumbled with a satisfied hum that could almost be described as a purr, before he looked up at you with his eyes wide.

You can foretell his request before it leaves his lips, but that doesn’t change the way it makes your heart melt. “Cuddles?”

You nod, your lips pulling up at the way his brown eyes shimmer with equal parts joy and utter exhaustion. You gently tug him into a standing position, heading towards his room. Usually, after long practice days, Jeno preferred being alone in peaceful silence with you. He loved the boys, but they were an emotional and energy handful, and he was often very drained by this time of night, especially during promotions. However, instead of continuing down the hallway with you, he tugged you to a stop. When you turned to look at him with raised eyebrows, he simply jerks his chin in the direction of the dorm sofa.

You let him lead you there, where Jisung is already seated with a game controller in his hands. Chenle is laying across the floor, also clutching a controller, setting up their game on the TV.

Jeno settles at the other end of the long couch, his arm out to allow you to snuggle into his side. It doesn’t take you long to accept the offer. You take the spot directly beside Jeno, turning to face him by throwing your legs over his lap. His hand rests on your knee, gently holding you against him as his other arm loops your shoulder to stroke between your shoulder blades. You slide your arms around his waist and rest your head against his chest, angling so you can watch the boys play.

You look up at Jeno, capturing his attention before furrowing your eyebrows and glancing between him and the room around you. Renjun had stolen the chair in the corner, curling himself around a sketchbook. Soft bickering could be heard from the kitchen, and Jisung and Chenle were going at each other— verbally and virtually.

Jeno seemed to understand the question as he leans forward and presses a soft lingering kiss to your brow line as it slowly relaxes. You understand his answer as easy as if he’d said it aloud. He knew you loved the boys and missed them just as much as you missed Jeno (okay, maybe you missed Jeno a little more)! He did want to just snuggle in silence, but you hadn’t seen the boys all together since before they started practicing for the album. And if he was being completely honest, the boys brought him a lot of joy— and he didn’t mind sharing your company with them for a little while. Especially after you’d done something so nice for all of them.

So you spent the evening like that— chilling and winding down with some of your favorite boys. They were crazy, and loud, and definitely weird, but you couldn’t think of better company.