#we totally could if you just let us know just the tiniest hint you know?

[dollya-robinprotector]

I know I have a habit of always keeping things to myself… But why am I still surprised when people don’t know what I know?

[moonstruckme]

hello, hello! can i ask for an au of emt!marauders? she had a minor accident maybe in her work or college and they got called in without knowing that it was her? (shes their gf) 💘

How could I refuse??

cw: minor head injury, the teeniest tiniest hint of a praise kink

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You’re sitting on the curb holding a bag of ice to your head when the ambulance cuts its sirens, coming to a stop. The door opens and boots hit the pavement in front of you. 

“Dollface?”

You blink up into the sun. “Sirius?”

He crouches by your knees, worry making itself at home in the crease between his brows. “Hey, baby, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t think it’d be you,” you say dumbly. 

“Are you hurt?” James comes bounding around the other side of the ambulance, Remus not far behind him. You can’t say you’re not happy to see them, but you sort of wish your reunion could have waited until your date tomorrow night, when you would almost surely not have been in your work uniform and covered in pasta sauce. “Are we here for you?” 

“Technically,” you reply, somewhat bitterly. James squats beside Sirius, mouth pulling to one side. “I fainted a little bit, and my boss said he had to call an ambulance. Just so I can’t sue the restaurant, I guess. I’m totally fine.” 

“They called us and then made you sit on the curb?” Sirius asks angrily while James says, “How does one faint only a little bit?”

“They didn’t want you guys scaring the customers.” You choose to answer only Sirius’ question, shrugging. His eyes flare, and he looks towards the restaurant like he’s thinking about going inside to have some words with your manager, but Remus passes a conciliatory hand over his shoulder as he sits beside you on the curb. 

“What’s this for, love?” he asks you, covering your hand where it holds the bag of ice.

You must look as sheepish as you feel, because his eyes narrow slightly. “I guess I hit my head a bit when I fell.” 

“So,” he says dryly, “not totally fine, then.” 

“I mean, I don’t think I hit it very hard,” you try, but Remus is already removing your makeshift ice pack, tilting your head so he can see the forming bump on the side. 

“Why don’t you tell us everything that happened,” James suggests, giving your knee a teasing squeeze as Sirius moves beside Remus to jockey for a view of your head, “just so we have all the facts.” 

“I was carrying a tray to my table,” you explain, wincing as Remus passes a thumb over your wound with a murmured apology, “and I started to feel weird, like wobbly and out of it. I thought it might pass, but—” Sirius sends you a horrified look and your voice quiets, chastened. “I know I probably should have sat down or something, but I was working, you know? Anyway, then I guess I fell and smacked my head on the floor. When I woke up, the food was everywhere,” you recall with a sigh. Your coworkers are going to be less than pleased with you for leaving them that mess to clean up. 

“Is that what this is?” James asks, mouth tilting upward as he looks at the mess of your uniform. 

You nod solemnly. “Alfredo sauce.” 

“Did you land on any glass or anything?” Sirius asks you. He and Remus have evidently finished with their inspection of your head, though Remus’ hand still cups the back of your neck protectively.

“No, all the plates that ended up breaking went the other way.” 

“You thinking concussion?” James asks him. 

“No,” you say, at the same time as Sirius says, “Maybe.” 

Sirius fixes you with an odd look, half remonstrance and half endearment. “Sorry, doll, but you’re not exactly an expert. You very stubbornly did your job when you should have looked after yourself” —he squints his eyes at you playfully, giving your shoulder a mean squeeze— “now let us do ours for a bit, yeah?” 

You purse your lips in malcontent, but James is already clicking on his pen light, shining it in your eyes. “Look straight ahead for me, angel?” 

“S’not a big deal,” you mutter one last time in quiet mutiny, doing as he says. All three boys ignore you. 

James clicks the light off. “Alright, do you know the date?” 

“No.” 

“How about the year?” he asks patiently. You tell him, and he goes on to ask you the month and the day of the week. 

“Good.” He rewards you with a smile when you answer correctly. “Okay, do you feel nauseous or dizzy at all, darling?” 

When he looks at you like that? A little, but that’s probably unrelated. “No,” you tell him. 

“Headache?” Remus asks you. 

“I mean, only here.” You lay your palm over the bump to indicate it, but wince when it hurts worse than you expected. Sirius coos, taking your hand in his to prevent you doing yourself further harm. “Not on, like, the inside.” 

“Okay, that’s what I meant,” Remus reassures you. “What about why you fainted, love? Do you have any idea what happened?” 

You bite the inside of your lip, thinking. “Not really.” Your head had just hurt a bit, then you’d felt woozy, and then you’d fallen and it had hurt a lot worse. 

“Did you have lunch before you came to work?” James prompts. 

You nod. 

“What did you have?” 

You tell him. He seems tentatively satisfied. 

“And for breakfast? What about for dinner last night?” 

You think back, telling him what you can remember, and he nods, looking somewhat bemused. 

“Did you have a drink with any of that?” Remus asks.

You think harder. Had you? The realization must show on your face, because Sirius tuts. 

“There it is,” he says knowingly. “When was the last time you had water, doll?” 

“I…I don��t remember. I had coffee yesterday—”

They all groan. James starts laughing soon after, patting you on the thigh at your timid expression. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just drink plenty of water and then go home to rest, alright? You might feel shaky for a bit, so don’t get in your car to drive until you’re feeling better. Rem, do we have some water bottles in the van?” 

“Yeah.” Remus stands, palm landing affectionately on your head as he passes behind you to climb into the back of the ambulance. 

“Don’t worry,” you tell James, exhaustion seeping into your voice, “I won’t be driving for a while yet. My shift doesn’t end until six.” 

Contrary to your intentions, some of the relief saps from James’ countenance. “You’re still planning on working?” 

Uh, duh. Does he think your rent is going to pay itself? “I mean,” you say, trying to appear somewhat patient, “yeah.” 

“Well, go ahead and get that out of your head right now,” Sirius nearly laughs. “There’s no way that’s happening today, sweetness.” 

“What’s not happening?” Remus asks, uncapping a water bottle before passing it to you. 

“She thinks she’s going back to work,” Sirius says wryly. 

Remus looks at you, appalled. You only shrug, sipping at your water.

“You can’t work after a fainting spell like that. Especially not as dehydrated as you are—your body needs rest.” He shakes his head at you. “You can either get it at home or come with us to the hospital.” 

You roll your eyes, re-capping the half-drained water bottle. “That’s so dramatic.” 

“No, I’m the dramatic,” Sirius corrects you. “Remus is the reasonable one, which is how you know he’s right. Those are your options, dollface.”

You huff. “Fine, then can one of you go tell my manager that? I don’t want to be blamed for skipping the rest of my shift.” 

“You’re not skipping anything,” Sirius says, standing. “I’ll go, I’ve got some things to say to him anyway.” He cracks his knuckles, and you look to James in alarm. 

He leaps up, catching up to Sirius in a few long strides and nudging him back towards you. “I’ve got it, Pads. Why don’t you make sure she finishes that water bottle?” 

“Fine.” Sirius stomps his way back to you. “But make him answer for sending her outside to sit on the curb.”

“Please don’t!” you call after James.

Sirius’ gaze narrows, flicking between you and the water bottle beside you expectantly. “Drink.” 

“Fine, sheesh.” You pick it up and twist off the cap. Remus chuckles, picking up your half-melted bag of ice to hold it against your head for you. “Isn’t it, like, your job to be nice to people when they’re injured?” 

“I thought you weren’t injured?” Remus hums. You shoot him a look that’s meant to be intimidating, but his lips twitch upwards. “Relax, love, we’re just worried about you.”

Well, it’s hard to be mad at that. “Thanks,” you say quietly. 

Sirius resumes his crouch in front of you, taking one of your knees in each hand and squeezing lightly. “We get off in a few hours,” he says. “Would it be okay if we came by for dinner? We can bring takeout or something.” 

You lower the water bottle, looking at him with interest. Your day has suddenly taken a positive turn. “Yeah, that sounds great.” 

“Good.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek. “Now be a good girl and finish your water.” 

You flush instantly, and Remus’ head swivels as if to make sure no one is nearby to have heard him. “Sirius,” you hiss, “I’m at work!”

His grin sharpens. “Not anymore, you’re not.” 

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

chaggie talk post charlie's ex dropping by the hotel, time for hugs

Charlie: "....Vaggie?"

(THUNK)

Vaggie: "Charlie- Oh sweetie hi! I was just uh..."

Charlie: "Using a picture of my ex for target practice?"

Vaggie: (slumping) "Sorry."

Charlie: "Don't be! Look like you had pretty good aim, heheh!" (hugs gf) "I'm sorry he showed up today like that."

Vaggie: "Totally not your fault, babe. That was all him."

Charlie: "You really hate him, huh?"

Vaggie: "I don't even know the guy."

Charlie: "You hate what you do know about him."

Vaggie: "Yeah. Well. You dumped him for a reason. Right?"

Charlie: "Several."

Vaggie: "So how's seeing him again going? You okay? Him stopping by out of the blue like this..."

Charlie: "I'm okay!"

Vaggie: "Really."

Charlie: "I'm okay enough. I wish he'd been a little less HIM about it all but I'm okay!" (hugs tighter) "I have you. You make everything better."

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: (hugs back) "Charlie?"

Charlie: "Hm?"

Vaggie: "Do you want me to be honest?"

Charlie: "If you can. As much as you're okay with."

Vaggie: "......I wasn't okay with this. With him."

Charlie: "Never would have guessed. Not like you almost taking his head off with your spear was a pretty big hint or anything."

Vaggie: "I hated seeing how he could just walk back into your life like that."

Charlie: "He's not IN my life again, Vaggie, he's just helping with the hotel- well I guess right now he's probably already in a sex dungeon knowing Angel Dust-"

Vaggie: "A- sex dungeon?"

Charlie: "I'll tell you later. Tell me your stuff now?"

Vaggie: "...he's your ex."

Charlie: "Yes. Very."

Vaggie: "But you broke up with him just for annoying, normal things."

Charlie: "There was lot of them but also yes."

Vaggie: "He wasn't, isn't, a bad person."

Charlie: "He could use SOME character growth but yeah. A normal enough guy."

Vaggie: "He's not violent or cruel or anything."

Charlie: "Harmless like I said. He's also just. Well."

Vaggie: "Not a murderer."

Charlie: "Vaggie..."

Vaggie: "Sorry." (hides face) "Forget it."

Charlie: "No I- I didn't mean-"

Vaggie: "Forget it. What's Angel Dust doing with him?"

Charlie: "I don't know or care right now." (snuggles gf) "Please, keep going?"

Vaggie: "It's the same stupid thing as ever."

Charlie: "Not stupid. Important."

Vaggie: "Your ex drops by and I'm making it about me." (snorts) "Sounds pretty stupid."

Charlie: "No. It's not. My girlfriend is hurt and sad, and that's not something to just forget. It also makes it about me too, I think. Tell me?"

Vaggie: "...I just..."

Vaggie: (sighs)

Vaggie: "I'm just jealous."

Charlie: "Jealous? Of what? You don't have be- I don't have the slightest, tiniest interest in him anymore-"

Vaggie: "But it'd make sense if you did."

Charlie: "No it wouldn't! Why would you think-?"

Vaggie: "Did he ever keep a huge secret from you for years?"

Charlie: "No?"

Vaggie: "Or stand back and let some terrible news get dropped on you at the worst possible moment, just because he was too scared to tell you himself?"

Charlie: "Vaggie-"

Vaggie: "He never hurt you like I did, Charlie. Did he."

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "He never could have... I didn't let him. I was never as close with him as I am with you."

Vaggie: "Why not? Why..."

Charlie: "He never wanted to talk seriously about the hotel or saving sinners. No one did but. But he'd get me talking about it in front of others, sometimes, just so he could swoop in and be the hero for me when they laughed. But they had to laugh at me first before he'd do the swooping."

Vaggie: "Asshole."

Charlie: "Kinda. You're not like that."

Vaggie: "Those are small things though, not, not secretly an Exorcist level things-"

Charlie: "They feel like big things to me."

Vaggie: "Still-"

Charlie: "Bigger than you having been something that you aren't anymore."

Vaggie: "But I still hurt you with it! And there were years when you thought we could be close without you getting hurt at all. That's why you even trusted me, right?"

Charlie: "You make it sound like I planned it out. Vaggie, I just, I kept waking up happy. Everyday, I was just glad you were here."

Vaggie: "..."

Charlie: "I am happy you're here."

Vaggie: "..."

Vaggie: "...past me was so stupid, Charlie."

Charlie: "She was scared. When I thought maybe you didn't really want to be here with me, I got scared too."

Vaggie: "And angry."

Charlie: "You think so?" (chuckles) "So did I fool you?"

Vaggie: "Fool me? Sweetie, you were glaring daggers. Completely deserved daggers but yeah, I did notice them."

Charlie: "I was scared I'd cry every time I looked at you. I HATED not being sure I could hug you, or if I ever would again, and putting on an angry face helped me not, well, break down ugly sobbing."

Vaggie: "It's okay if you were angry, that's a normal thing when-"

Charlie: "I was upset! But if I'd been pissed at you, my horns would've been out. Where they ever?"

Vaggie: "No."

Charlie: "No~"

Vaggie: "... I've another stupid confession-"

Charlie: "I'm vetoing that word!"

Vaggie: "Alright alright." (laughs) "I've got another HONEST confession to make."

Charlie: "I'd love to hear it."

Vaggie: "I was. A little. Disappointed seeing you with Seviathan."

Charlie: "I wasn't with him-"

Vaggie: "Talking to him. Whatever."

Charlie: "Okay. Why?"

Vaggie: "This is gonna sound horrible."

Charlie: "You're judgement on horrible stuff to do with you is a liiiiittle bit skewed so maybe get a second opinion? Like mine?"

Vaggie: "..... you weren't pissed off just from seeing him."

Charlie: "I mean I wouldn't say I was happy about it either-"

Vaggie: "You're horns weren't out."

Charlie: "No?"

Vaggie: "You weren't even glaring."

Charlie: "Glaring at what, he was just standing there with his hand on my arm- Oh."

Vaggie: "Yeah."

Charlie: "OH!"

Vaggie: "I was more than one kind of jealous."

Charlie: "Vaggie- that-" (burst into giggles) "I didn't even notice he was doing that! It's probably just muscle memory for him!"

Vaggie: "Yeah." (growls) "I figured."

Charlie: "Awww my poor girl~"

Vaggie: "Ugh."

Charlie: "Don't worry, I know what will cheer you right up! You wanna hear how I almost threw him out of the hotel after you left?"

Vaggie: "...You told him to get out?"

Charlie: "Threw, Vaggie. Physically. Almost right out the door."

Vaggie: "Seriously?" (looks up) (grinning) "What'd he do?"

Charlie: "He asked if you were s- uhhhhhhhhhh that's not the important point! Point is, I was PISSED, and if YOU want to keep using his picture as a dart board for your spear throwing time then that's fine by me!!"

Vaggie: "Thanks babe." (smooch) "Talking is good, doing the talking with you feels good, but stabbing also makes me feel better too."

Charlie: "Really? How much better?"

Vaggie: "Wanna find out?"

Charlie: "Oh I shouldn't..."

Charlie: (looks thoughtfully at seviathan's picture)

Vaggie: (offers spear)

Charlie: "....but maaaabye... if it helps me understand MY girlfriend better..." (takes spear)

Vaggie: "Lot of emphasis on the 'my' part there, babe."

Charlie: "Well you are! Mine. My girlfriend."

Vaggie: "As your girlfriend I could stand behind you and correct your stance if you wanted me to."

Charlie: "With your hands on my hips?"

Vaggie: "Where else?"

Charlie: (grinning) "Nowhere."

[dove00]

Running (Only Gets You So Far)

(Hi! Been a while but here’s another Bad Things Happen Bingo from @badthingshappenbingo ! This finishes Hostage Video

Warnings: hostage video, kidnapping, near death experience

Stay safe and enjoy!

Summary: The five Teen Titans are taken and put in a containment cell. Their mentors and the rest of the Justice League save them, but one of the Titans takes it the hardest.

All of his friends around him are starting to breathe slower. Wally is used to doing everything faster but he never wanted to be faster than them at breathing.

He nudged Roy, who was closest to him. “Hey, man. You have to stay awake.”

Roy barely moved but said softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.” Wally said with no heat. “Apologize when we’re not in some trap used to get the League here.”

“Never say I didn’t try.” Roy joked because truly only Roy Harper could try and make someone smile as he slowly—

“Shut up.” Wally said again.

Roy tried to sit up a little. “Where’s Dick?”

Dick sounded out of breath. “Here.” Donna moves them closer to Wally, Roy, and Garth.

“We tried everything.” Garth said.

“The League will come.” Dick said. “I heard the guy make a call. Wally, I never heard Barry swear so much.”

Wally snorted but it turned into a cough. “He’s protective.”

“Yeah…” Donna trailed. “Do you guys know I love you?”

“Love you, too.” Dick said, like it was as easy as breathing. “But sorry to break it to you. We won’t be dying here.”

Wally sometimes hates his powers. His body is dying and healing at the same time but he knows even he will have to lose this battle. He just doesn’t know why his friends have to die, too.

They sit in silence for another 30 minutes. Then, Dick sighed. “Do you think people will miss us?”

Wally wants to say: Totally. All the ladies will be in mourning.

What he does say is: “I’ll miss you all.”

“Yeah.” Roy agreed. “Plus, I’ll haunt Bruce if he tries to say he doesn’t miss you.”

Dick chuckled and then fell silent.

Aunt Iris, Wally thinks as his mind starts to fade, I love you and I’m sorry.

_________

After the call, Bruce has the video on repeat and Barry is wondering how he can stomach it.

“I want my brother freed from prison or the Teen Titans are dead.”

This is gonna haunt Barry but he powered through for Wally and the others. He’s a CSI. He knows how to look for evidence. Speed helps, too.

“I wonder how long your beloved sidekicks will last.”

Except when he can’t find the guy. The guy is smirking and then a quiet boom that Bruce has decided is not a gun but can’t think of anything else it could be. Maybe…

Barry paused the video. Before Bruce could open his mouth to say who knows what, Barry points at the abandoned warehouse roof. There’s a hole in it and the tiniest hints of a firework could be seen.

“It’s a firework.” There’s no holiday that has fireworks right now.

“Gotham has a parade.” Bruce said and Barry looked back at the screen. “It’s still going on.” He tells the parade route and Barry runs as Bruce goes to inform the others.

Please, he begs…to who knows. He just begs. Let him be on time.

Wally won’t wake up. They got everyone out and breathing. Wally should be waking up. His speed healing should’ve made him the first to wake up.

The others had to be stopped from hurting themselves to go check on Wally.

Jay comes into the room and Iris gives him a hug.

“I think it may be the fact that his powers were in use the whole time.”

“You should get some sleep.” Barry told Iris.

“So should you, but we both know you won’t.”

Wally started to groan and then sat up quickly. “Guys!”

Barry and Iris were on either side of him.

Iris told him, “All safe and all worried about you.”

“Oh.” Wally said and then smiled at them.

Barry and Iris felt a weight lift off them as he hugged them. Jay smiled at them.

Family.

[kouaesthetic]

Kou was helping his friends level their alts in Stranglethorn Vale.

[Yokoo]: have you heard the rumor? there's a new ganker in stv

[Yokoo]: while you are farming tigers, he would close up to you and say

[Mitsuba]: kek

[Mitsuba]: have you forgotten me?

Mitsuba casts Pyschic Scream.

Satou and Yokoo ran away in fear, but Kou did not. Kou used his PvP trinket to break free of fear, and then stunned the horde player with Hammer of Justice.

[Kou]: you are ganking the wrong guy!

He had time to inspect the enemy. He was a level 68 blood elf in shadow form.

[Kou] whispers to [Hanakokun]: so i've caught a hordie who was causing problem to levelling players

[Hanakokun]: you gonna corpse camp him?

[Kou]: no

[Kou]: i stopped doing this kind of thing

[Kou]: is there another way to deal with the problem?

[Hanakokun]: so he has some unfinished business right? you could help him with that

[Kou]: of course! now the rest will be easy

Kou joined Mitsuba's call on discord.

Kou: Let's finish that unfinished business of yours!

Mitsuba: Shut it, you hella lame PvP trinket earring boy! That stupid trinket! It is so OP! What do you mean, Insignia of the Alliance? Your brain's already been in an accident! Spin around a hundred times and drop dead! Taking advantage of my delicate frame to have your way with me... Pervert! Predator! Stupid dummy head! I know what you're up to! You're gonna teabag my corpse over and over! All because I'm such an adorable little elf!

At the same time, Mitsuba was casting: Vampiric touch, Mind blast, Shadow word: pain, Devouring plague, Mind flay, Mind blast, Mind flay x2, Psychic Scream.

20 minutes later

Kou: You ran out of mana yet?

Kou had shadow resistance aura on, bubbled and bandaged to full health.

Kou: I am Kou, Champion of the Naaru, from <Minamoto> clan (Alliance, PvE)! Tell me your real name, gearscore and the reason you keep playing WoW!

Several Exorcisms later

Mitsuba: It's an achievement! It's an achievement!

Mitsuba: I think...

Kou: Does it have to be 5 man group achievements all the time?! It better be the one you wanted!

Kou was holding aggro of several elites, while Mitsuba was melting them.

Mitsuba: Oh, it's totally it.

[Yokoo]: what r u doing in hellfire peninsula?

[Kou]: just some achievements

[Yokoo]: with mitsuba?

[Kou]: ???

[Kou]: do you know him?

[Yokoo]: yes... we were in the same guild in vanilla

[Yokoo]: i was never that close to him

[Yokoo]: but you were in the same guild back then, weren't you?

[Kou]: i was???

[Yokoo]: sure were!

[Yokoo]: i guess it's hard to remember him, since he faction changed to horde

"Mitsuba? THAT Mitsuba?"

Kou remembered that he had multiple dungeon runs with Kou tanking as retri, and Mitsuba healing as holy priest. He was human back then. He was really nice in party chat while belittling group members in guild chat for tiniest mistakes.

Mitsuba: I was kicked from the group multiple times when I was low level. "Buff me priest", "Don't pull before the tank"... stupid reasons like this. I wanted to make over in Outland. I'd take the hint: I would carry candles, buff stam and fear ward the tank. And then it hit me. I was no longer kicked from the group, but I could not make any friends either.

Kou: He is cocky. Dresses like a girl. Sarcastic. Selfish. Has an annoying vocie. Obsessed with achievements. And is only pretend nice. If anyone asks me what kind of priest Mitsuba was, that's what I'm gonna tell them.

Kou: I'm sorry I did not recognize you earlier. You changed so much since we last ran Stratholme.

Mitsuba: Kou... if we were the same faction... do you think we could be mutuals?

Kou: Can't we still be mutuals, even if we are opposite factions?

Achievement unlocked: Gain a mutual friend.

[Blizz] [Tsukasa]: It bothers me when you do these things.

Mitsuba went offline.

Player not found.

Player not found.

[Kou]: ... and he was my friend!

[Hanakokun]: it's no use

[Hanakokun]: once an account is banned for cheating, there is no going back

[thefanficmonster]

Bumpy Road

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Depression and Relationship struggles as well as Health Problems

Genre: Mild Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: On a live podcast discussing his rise to fame and how its affected his personal life, Corpse stumbles over the topic of his romantic relationships, more specifically his relationship with Y/N.

Requested by Anon. Hello dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and so sorry you’ve had to wait for it to be posted so long. However, here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it an if you do I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Right, ok we’re officially live!“ Exclaims Anthony as he waves to one of the cameras - the one turned to him - and leans closer to the mic placed on the table in front of him. “Hello everyone, thanks for tuning in today. I’m here with the internet sensation and mystery known as Corpse Husband.“ He turns away from the camera to look across the table at his guest, “Corpse, I hope you know how much effort is being put into editing that sticker over your face for the duration of this whole podcast.“

Corpse, whose face is hidden by a sticker of his avatar, chuckles, “So you’re insinuating that I should probably not move so much.”

“Exactly.“ Anthony laughs, “My guy would be very grateful for that curtesy. Yeah, I have an actual person who I assigned to move around the sticker so there goes an extra paycheck.“

“In that case I promise to give you worthy content. A lot of never previously heard scoop.“ Corpse says, mocking the very words he uses, laughing about them afterwards, “Ask away, man.“

Anthony briefly looks down at a printed sheet of paper before pushing it to the side with a slight furrow of his brows, “You know, these are all cookie-cutter questions you’ve probably been asked many times before. So, I think it’s for the best I ask you something no one has had you talk about. Or something I hope no one has had you talk about yet. If you feel uncomfortable with any question just say so and we’ll skip it right away.“

The sticker moves up and down to mask Corpse’s face as he nods, “Got it.”

“Ok um...“ Anthony falls in thought for a moment, thinking of a question, “The first thing off the top of my head, um, what part of the dark side of fame have you had the displeasure of experiencing?“

Corpse lets out a laugh dangerously close to a scoff, “Almost all if not totally all of it really. There’s such a big chunk of privacy being taken away from you on social media. I got to that point where I felt so naked and seen I felt I was losing myself as my fandom grew. I know it’s many YouTubers’ dream to blow up and have a ton of fans and followers but I never wanted that. Don’t get me wrong, I love each and every one of my fans, I just never expected to accumulate so many of them. I’m such a private person, it was so anxiety inducing in the beginning but I sort of learned how to cope with it, you know? Sometimes, in order to stop people from reaching into my real privacy, I created a fake one that I’d feed into and let them enjoy.”

Anthony’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “Wow, how do we know what’s real about you anymore, huh?” It was said more as a joke but he truly meant it. If a person can fake a whole reality for people not to touch into their real one, Lord knows what else they can do.

Corpse huffs, “I’ll give you a hint: If it seems pretty, pink, peach and perfect it’s fake.“ The sticker may be hiding his face from the viewers but it’s most definitely not doing anything to shield the change in expression that occurs on his face from Anthony who’s sitting right across from him and notices the shift right away but before he could question it, Corpse prods on, “Y/N, my partner, can tell you just as much. They know better than anyone what’s the difference between what people know and what the reality is. They know that our relationship isn’t the sunny skies we put on display for our fans. I have my mental and physical health issues, my trust issues and paranoia play a big role in the ‘rains’ in our day-to-day life but they understand it’s all a part of me and a part I can’t control. It actually controls me sometimes and it’s so fucking annoying. But they understand. And while we pretend it’s perfect even though it isn’t, we find our happiness wherever and whenever we can. When it rains so often, you might as well look for a little hint of sunlight. That sunlight can create a rainbow after all. Believe me when I say, that rainbow is the most beautiful thing, makes you forget about the storm that just took place or might even be still raging all around.“ He sighs, preparing to bring his outpour of honesty to a close, “It may be a bumpy road 98% of the time even though on social media we pretend it’s the complete opposite, but that 2% of honest happiness we get from the tiniest of things are more meaningful than I could describe to you with words.“

And he’s more than right, words are often not enough. But the ones he used to describe what he just did were perfectly enough to bring one particular viewer to tears. That particular viewer who knows exactly what he was talking about. Because they are his other half and they’re going through it the same as he is. They’ve gone down that bumpy road side by side with him, ignoring the pain and turmoil while focusing their gaze on the rainbow above. That analogy was theirs from the very start after all. They both knew Y/N is the better one at finding the deeper meaning in everything even when there was nothing to be found.

They always found something. And Corpse will always cherish that trait as one of their best - always finding something to keep them both afloat.

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[hermannsthumb]

I have a fun prompt I've been thinking about I hope you have time for one day! When Newt and Hermann meet actually things go really really well and they even get together. It's just they bicker so much and have huge science-based arguments that everyone assumed they must have hated each other on sight.

sure thing! i had fun with this one

----

"So," Newt says. "I was talking to Tendo today."

Across the mess table, Hermann hums in feigned interest. Newt knows it's feigned 'cause Hermann doesn't stop either thing he's doing: using his left hand to wind noodles around a fork, and using his right hand to scribble away a series of lengthy equations on the back of a paper napkin. His full attention has been hopping between both for about ten minutes now—no room for Newt to slip in there. He's testing his limits enough as it. Half of the last equation ended up scratched into the tabletop, and the last time he lifted his fork to his mouth, it was empty. And then he swallowed anyway. Newt kinda loves the guy.

"Yeah," Newt says, deciding to continue like Hermann responded the way he was actually supposed to respond, which would've been something along the lines of what an utterly fascinating story, Newton, do tell me more. I love hearing you talk, Newton. How marvelously smart you are, Newton, and how melodic and breathtaking your voice is. Now watch me bite down on an empty fork again. "Kinda funny. He was asking how we met."

Hermann finally looks up at Newt suspiciously over the rims of his glasses, which are slipping slowly down his nose. He stills them with the tip of his index finger before they land in his dinner. "Why?"

"I don't know, man," Newt says. "He just was. It was like, small talk, you wouldn't get it. He dropped by the lab when you were out this morning to let me know that there was extra space if we wanted it. Like, lab space." Hermann resumes scratching an equation into the table absently. Newt rolls his eyes. "As in, we could have separate labs if we wanted now."

Hermann knits his eyebrows together. "Separate laboratories?"

When Newt and Hermann first started at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, the k-scientist team was pre-existing and significantly bigger, and anyone who joined on later—like, you know, them—basically got shoved in wherever they fit. For Newt and Hermann, that happened to be Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1 (the only basement level), along with a former marine biologist who was killed on a research excursion a month later when a kaiju made unexpected landfall, like, right on top of their chosen shelter. Bad luck. Anyway, Newt's known about the existence of other Hong Kong Shatterdome lab spaces in the vague and absent sort of way that you would an urban legend, but (similarly so) he never thought he and Hermann would actually ever lay eyes on one. And then Tendo stopped by to dangle it in front of Newt on a stick.

"The other labs were being used as storage for ages after everyone else—" Newt searches for a word tasteful enough to encapsulate got stomped by a kaiju and wised up and decided to live out what are probably our last few days before the world ends with their families instead of alone in a military bunker. "—left. Anyway, Tendo told me they've been going through shit like crazy this month, I think to see if they can salvage any old tech, and that the other labs are basically totally emptied out now. We just have to ask and they're ours."

Hermann sets down both his pen and fork, twisting his mouth contemplatively. He finally loses the battle against gravity with his glasses, and they miss his plate by an inch, swinging back on their chain and bouncing harmlessly against his chest instead. Newt briefly wonders if getting a chain for his own glasses would save them from their frequent fatal falls into kaiju organ cavities and buckets of non-neutralized kaiju blood, but decides not even the money he'd save on replacement pairs would make a fashion faux pas like that worth it. "You know I don't much fancy the basement," Hermann says.

"Your joints," Newt agrees. The damp of the basement sets Hermann's joint pain off frequently, something Hermann talks about just as frequently. Newt's not really a fan of the basement either, though for different reasons—he would kill to get some windows and natural, non-fluorescent light in there. Sun lamps can only do so much. He's pretty sure he'd fucking glow if he stepped outside right now. Also, it's cold down here.

"And it might be nice to be closer to LOCCENT, in case of an emergency," Hermann continues. "And closer to—oh, hang on. What has this got to do with us?"

"Huh?"

"How we met," Hermann says. "You said, that Tendo asked—"

"Oh," Newt says. It's his turn to play coy. He stirs his chopsticks through his own dinner, accidentally flicking a piece of tofu to the table. It lands on top of Hermann's etched equations. Hermann scowls, because that's how their routine goes: Newt gets Hermann's stuff dirty, and Hermann gets mad. "Well. It was just that Tendo was like you can finally be out of each other's hair, how the hell did you guys get stuck together anyway when you obviously can't stand each other, that kind of stuff."

"Ah," Hermann says.

"And I said that it was because we knew each other before," Newt says, "and that we transferred here together. And that's when he asked."

"And what did you say?" Hermann says.

"That we used to correspond professionally," Newt says, "and met at a conference way back in 2017." He adds, with a grin, "Also professionally."

This was technically true. Newt and Hermann did write to each other, professionally, and they did meet at a conference, professionally, but what went down after a long and public shouting match in the events hall of a very nice hotel—in Hermann's room, five floors up in that very nice hotel—was not very professional. The events of the week that followed—spent, intermittently, between Hermann's hotel room, several coffee shops, a bench under a tree in Newt's favorite park, a rotation sushi restaurant, brushing knees shyly on the tram, and, finally, clasping hands on the staircase of Newt's apartment and gazing deeply into each other's eyes—weren't very professional, either, but Newt likes to think that they were very romantic. Rom-com level shit. Newt revealed none of this to Tendo, who referred to the 2017 conference as that Infamous Day for the rest of their conversation. "Well, it was professional," Hermann sniffs.

But he reaches across the table, and, very timidly, crosses his pinkie over top of Newt's. It's the most blatant form of PDA Hermann ever willingly engages Newt in. Newt thinks if he ever tried to touch two fingers at once in anywhere but the lab, or God forbid, hold his whole hand, Hermann's ears might start emitting steam like something out of a cartoon. "It might be nice," he says again.

Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1, is unique—Newt knows—in that Newt and Hermann's quarters are connected to it directly. None of the other labs have that luxury (and Newt has a feeling it's because Lab Space D wasn't actually intended as a lab space). He remembers being told that when they were shoved into it. Yeah, you have the darkest and tiniest lab space on base, but your rooms are right there! When Newt wants to go to Hermann's room, or if he's in Hermann's room and needs a sweatshirt or something from his own, he just has to step the three feet between their two doors. Moving labs could throw a wrench in that—they might be asked to move quarters, too, and might be shuttled to opposite sides of the Shatterdome, and though they could just bite the bullet and request couple's quarters already, it's nice to have their own spaces when they need it. That would never work. And, well, besides—the lab, their lab, feels like home to them at this point. Newt shrugs.

"On the other hand," Hermann says, and he taps Newt's pinkie lightly, "I quite like how things are. I can live with the damp, really."

"We can get a dehumidifier," Newt offers.

Hermann nods, and he gives Newt the barest hint of a smile.

Their monthly delivery of lab supplies—whatever they can afford with their shoestring budget, which, these days, mostly means chalk, rubber gloves, and nice instant ramen—comes three weeks later. Newt wouldn't exactly call the Shatterdome delivery guy a friend, seeing as he has yet to divulge his name to Newt (and also Newt's pretty sure he has a thing for Hermann, since he always seems to wait until Hermann is in the lab to stroll by with his package trolley and always calls him Dr. Gottlieb with big stupid heart eyes, oh, Dr. Gottlieb, that new sweater looks soooo nice on you!, so anyway, that makes him Newt's rival by default), but he, at least, recognizes and acknowledges Newt at this point. That's more than Newt can say for most people on the base. After his usual greeting to the two of them (hey, Newt, oh, hellllooo, Dr. Gottlieb, did you do something new with your hair?), he starts to unload their packages, also like usual.

"I was surprised to see that you guys are still down here," he tells Newt, not like usual. "Tendo mentioned something about you getting your own labs."

"He did?" Newt says, meaning to frown, but grinning instead. It's kind of fun to be the subject of gossip. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them in the trash to help with their supplies—the dehumidifier he requested should be in there, and it's fancy and definitely on the bigger side.

"Yeah," their delivery guy continues. He hands Newt a fuckin' massive brick of a package. Hermann's stupid chalk. The amount that Hermann tears through in a month really is astounding: Newt has a private theory that Hermann is an undercover space alien from a planet where chalk constitutes all of the primary food groups, and he secretly sneaks out here and eats it in the dead of night when Newt is asleep. "Anyway, sorry I'm late," the delivery guy says, as Newt imagines Hermann crunching on a piece of chalk like a carrot stick, "I went to all the other labs first."

"No worries, dude," Newt says. "Sorry for the confusion."

He lugs the package over to Hermann's desk, and drops it down on the only spot not over-cluttered with papers and books. Hermann complains about Newt's messiness a lot for a guy who is just as bad, if not worse. "Need any now?" Newt asks Hermann.

Hermann, scribbling away at his chalkboard, grunts. Newt decides that's a no.

"Hard at work, Dr. Gottlieb?" the delivery guy says, practically fluttering his eyelashes.

Another grunt. Newt snorts.

"I thought you guys would've moved right away," the delivery guy (obviously disappointed at Hermann's lack of attention) tells Newt. "Tendo mentioned you've been stuck together for a while, ever since some sort of dramatic confrontation at a conference ten years ago." he adds eagerly, "Did you really get thrown out? I don't know how you haven't killed each other yet."

"It's taken a lot of hard work," Newt says. Yeah, the whole being-ejected-from-the-conference-and-barred-from-all-future-ones-forever thing is technically true too, but everyone there was too stuffy and serious for Newt's fun vibes anyway, so he thinks it's their loss. The most important part of the scientific breakthrough process, Newt frequently thinks, was having someone there to challenge you and push back at you. Sometimes loudly. And in public. In the conference hall of a very expensive hotel, in front of all of your scientific peers, some hotel security guards, and a poor graduate student who made the mistake of asking you and your penpal-colleague for your joint opinion on something and got caught in the crosshairs. Besides—out of everyone at that stupid conference, Newt and Hermann were the only ones snapped up by the PPDC, so it's doubly their loss. "And, yeah, we got thrown out. Me and Hermann fight a lot, but we always make up eventually. It's no big deal. It's, like, our thing."

"Make up?"

Newt waggles his eyebrows and doesn't elaborate. The making up part is the best part of arguing with Hermann, honestly, but he's not about to go giving private details about stuff like that to his rival.

By the time Hermann finally descends his ladder, three hours have passed, and Newt is frowning over an email he's just gotten from Shatterdome HR. Hermann will probably see it in a second when he checks his own email—it was sent to both of them, after all—but Newt waves him over to his desk anyway. "Look," he says.

He draws out the spare chair he keeps by his desk (for Hermann), and Hermann drops into it gratefully, propping his cane up against the arm. Then Hermann pushes his glasses up onto his nose and scans the email with a frown of his own. Newt reads it aloud for him anyway. "'Subject: Quarters Reassignment,'" he says. "Dear Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb: It has recently come to our attention that you will be transferring to Laboratories A&B. Should you wish to transfer quarters as well, you will find the necessary paperwork..."

"By Jove," Hermann groans, and pulls his glasses off again, smudging a bit of chalk on his cheek, "can't they just leave us alone?"

Newt laughs. "I'll tell them we're not interested. Wait, listen to this bit at the end: Congratulations—this must be a relief! Guess they were getting your complaint forms after all, Hermann." Both Newt and Hermann had long-since assumed that any and all official complaint forms stamped with a k-sci lab return address are filed right into the garbage. It's never deterred Hermann from sending them in, though.

"Hmph," Hermann says.

Newt carefully rolls his shirtcuff back down to his wrist and uses it to rub off Hermann's chalk smudge. When it's gone, or at least, mostly gone, he brushes his fingers back through Hermann's short hair. Hermann's eyelids flutter shut, and as he leans into Newt's touch, his creased forehead smooths just a little. "Mm. You're lovely," he murmurs. "We really ought to tell them we're married. It's gone on long enough."

"I guess," Newt says. "But it's kind of funny, isn't it?"

[mlwritersguild]

For the first/last line prompts thing, I think this might be cool to start and end the story with but honestly up to whoever ends up using it: "The world had never felt colder, but looking into [their] eyes, [character] felt warmed straight to the core."

The Sun Is In Your Eyes by @deinde-prandium​

AO3 Link; M/F, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, PRPR, Rated T 

Summary:

The morning after they’ve revealed their identities to one another, Ladybug and Chat Noir have a much-needed talk. Post-season 4.

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

I see you clearly now

I hold you dearly now

The sun is in my eyes

- Jacob Collier, “The Sun is in Your Eyes”

—

The world had never felt colder. But looking into her eyes, Chat Noir felt warmed straight to the core. 

I see you. And I love you, he said silently, willing her to understand.

He knew he couldn’t say it yet. How could he possibly, when so much was on the line? Was it even appropriate to feel so happy, knowing all that had happened? It almost didn’t feel right. Even so, Chat couldn’t help but feel hopeful. 

Actually, it was more than that. For the first time in a while, he felt…light, like a weight had been lifted. He hadn’t realized how much of a burden it had been to carry the secret of his identity alone. But now, things were different. The wall Ladybug had always insisted they put up between each other was finally coming down. And now that he knew that she’d been right in front of him all along…

Chat paused, resisting the urge to follow his fantasies down the rabbit hole. After everything they’d been through…after how she’d reacted last night…he knew he’d have to be careful. No matter how he felt, too much had happened over the past few hours for him to want to upend the dynamic between them any further. 

Still, as they wrapped up their late-night-turned-early-morning patrol, he couldn’t help but marvel at the way the rising sun glinted in his lady’s bluebell irises.  

“You okay, chaton? You’re staring.”

The warmth blooming in Chat Noir’s chest swiftly spread upward, coloring his cheeks. “It’s nothing,” he assured her. He shot her his usual cheeky grin. “It’s just - the sun is in your eyes. Wanted to make sure you weren’t accidentally blinded. It’s been a long night, you know. We’re both, uh. We’re both pretty tired. Not to mention it’s freezing out.”

“I thought you were used to these early mornings. Life as a model and all,” she quipped. The tiniest hint of a smile played on her lips, and he drank it in like a man dying of thirst. He’d seen that same smile so many times before. How had he not noticed? 

And what was going to happen, now that he had?

The question came out before he could stop himself. “Hey, Ma- Ladybug?”

“Yeah?”

Chat Noir gulped. “Now that we know…do you think things are going to change between us?”

Ladybug looked away, absently rubbing her arms for warmth. “Well…I mean, obviously we’re going to have to be a lot more careful to make sure that neither of us gets akumatized. But in terms of our…our friendship…I suppose it doesn’t have to change if we don’t want it to.” 

I do want it to change, he wanted to say. I want to be able to kiss you whenever you’ll let me. I want to protect you, to fight for you, to help shoulder the burden you carry as Guardian. I want to write you poetry and play you songs. I want to be the person you fall asleep on in class after staying out all night fighting an akuma. I want you to see yourself reflected in my eyes and know how much I treasure you. Every side of you. 

But he didn’t say any of those things. “It’s just…not that I expected you to be totally fine with it or anything, but you seemed pretty shocked to find out it was me.”

“I was. You’re- you’re Adrien Agreste,” she whispered. “You and Chat Noir…I thought I knew you. And I guess I did. I do. I just didn’t realize how much of yourself you’ve had to hold back from everyone around you.” She chuckled quietly. “Now, if you had been Catwalker? The guy Plagg temporarily replaced you with? If that were you, I might have believed it more easily…”

“Ah well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “Funny story about that…”

Ladybug’s gaze snapped back up at him. “Wait, are you saying that Plagg…?”

Chat Noir blushed. “Uh, yeah. We thought you needed someone different. Someone a bit more put together, more careful, who wasn’t constantly cracking jokes or offering you roses or–”

“–You were perfect,” Ladybug said. “About as close to Adrien as I could ever imagine, now that I think about it. But that…that wasn’t the real you, was it?”

“It was and it wasn’t,” he admitted with a shrug. “Being Catwalker brought out a side of me you usually see as Adrien, that’s true. But when I’m Chat Noir, I’m still me, too. I’m just letting out a side of me people don’t get to see. But they’re both part of who I am, you know?” The corners of his mouth lifted into a slight smile. “A wise kwami told me, ‘one can’t exist without the other.’ And I believe that. I guess what I’m trying to say is, it’s nice to have someone who knows. Because I finally have someone who sees me for me. The whole me.” 

Rather than soothe, however, it appeared that his words only increased Ladybug’s discomfort. “But you shouldn’t have had to hide like that,” she argued. “If I’d been a better Guardian, if I had talked to you…if I’d listened to you, I would have understood better. You should have had someone you could be yourself with all the time.”

“But I did,” he pointed out. “Granted, I didn’t know it until now, but I’ve always had one person who I could be myself around.”

Ladybug’s gaze flitted away, and Chat wondered if she realized he wasn’t just making a silly joke to make her feel better. “It’s not the same, and you know it,” she said, her voice small. “It’s bad enough that I single-handedly screwed up our partnership—”

“No way,” he cut in. “We’ve talked about this. That’s on both of us, not just you. I’m not gonna let you take the blame for that.”

She huffed quietly at his response. “Yeah, but then for you to find out that the person who has rejected you time and time again is actually your dorky friend from school, who can’t even talk properly when you’re near? How are you not…disappointed? You deserve more—”

“Ladybug,” he interrupted. “Marinette. Stop. Don’t you see? I’m grateful that it’s you.”

Ladybug stopped short. “Really?” she squeaked, a little hint of the Marinette he knew peeking out from beneath her strong superhero exterior.

Tentatively, he grasped her hands, warming them with his own. “I know I’ve said it before, but you’re the only one who understands me.”

“Oh.” 

“And I don’t mean that to say that I expect anything from you,” he added, seeing the stricken look on her face. “You’ve told me you’re in love with someone else. And yes, I realize you knowing that I, your friend Adrien, am also the person who’s declared his love for Ladybug on so many occasions probably makes things, you know…awkward. I just hope that doesn’t mess things up.” He closed his eyes, blowing out a breath before saying what he realized needed to be said. “And I want you to know that my knowing who you are doesn’t- it doesn’t change how I feel about Ladybug. About you. But…I’ll understand if it doesn’t change how you feel, either. I’ll do better, because your friendship means the world to me. And if friendship is all you want from me, then you have it. Always.” 

—

The sun had nearly risen by now. Soon the rest of the city would be waking up. But Ladybug remained frozen on the rooftop with her hands clasped between his, the wind whipping around them as Chat Noir’s admission hung in the air. 

Had it been any other day - had this happened before her world had fallen apart, before Hawkmoth had taken the miraculous, before they’d found themselves agreeing that this was the best way to shore up their defenses - there’s no doubt she would have been the usual flustered mess she’d always been in front of Adrien. She’d be positively swooning. 

But instead, all she could do was worry. 

The bell at Chat’s neck gleamed in the dawn, and for a split second she wished she could take it all back. There were so many risks to what they’d decided to do. How could she possibly be so foolish, thinking of her feelings for Adrien - for Chat Noir - at a time like this? 

And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to put that wall back up, even if to protect them both. 

“My um, my feelings haven’t really changed, minou,” she said at length. 

“Oh. I understand.”

Ladybug shook her head. “Actually, I don’t think you do. I’m only really starting to understand it myself, I think.” She looked down at their joined hands. “You know, I meant it when I said you’re irreplaceable. And that you’ll always be my favorite. Knowing who you are hasn’t changed that. And it…it hasn’t changed how I feel about the boy I love, either.” She sighed, forcing the truth out in wispy swirls of air. “I just might need a little more time to come to grips with the fact the two of you are one and the same. More than one night patrolling in the cold, you know?”

She heard Chat’s breath hitch. “But you…you never…” 

“Never told you how I felt as Marinette? Yeah, well, you weren’t the only one holding back,” she confessed. “I mean, I did try, so many times. I just didn’t have the courage to go through with it, I guess. Not that it would have mattered, since you were in love with Ladybug.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his thumb drawing little circles on her hand as he listened. “But now…”

Ladybug struggled to maintain her composure, focusing on her words and not the gentle movement of his thumb across her knuckles. “But now…now I don’t know whether to be happy, or terrified, or excited. I don’t know whether to try and turn back time and pretend we didn’t have this conversation, or beg your forgiveness for hurting you as Chat Noir, or kiss you senseless and never let you go.”

Chat couldn’t help but smile. “Definitely the last one,” he said, raising her hands to warm them with his breath. 

Ladybug suppressed a shiver, forcing herself to pull her hands away. She needed to get this out, and there was no way she trusted herself to continue while his lips were so close to her skin. “I’m serious,” she insisted. “I knew that revealing our identities would be dangerous, but I was willing to try because I thought it would make us stronger as a team. Except now…I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“So many things,” she replied, her anxiety rising with every question that popped into her head. “I mean, what if my feelings get us into trouble? What if I make another mistake? What if I’ve done this all wrong, and I’m supposed to be alone as Guardian? Look at Master Fu - he and Marianne were separated for literal decades because he needed to protect the Miracle Box. I’ve already messed that up…what if I can’t protect you, too? What if I lose you again? What if–”

“Wait,” Chat cut in. “Lose me…again?”

In an instant, months of repressed agony came rushing to the surface. Tears pricked at Ladybug’s eyes as an onslaught of memories flooded her mind, and she gasped for breath. Of course Chat didn’t know what she was talking about, because she’d never told him. And even as he stood there offering her an opportunity to explain, she found that she still couldn’t. “It was—” she stammered, “you were– I couldn’t live with myself if you– if we– ”

“Whoa, hey, hey….” he said, stepping forward to envelop her in his arms. “You’re not going to lose me. Ever. Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever happened…when you’re ready, you tell me, and we’ll figure out what went wrong and we’ll fix it. Together. It’s you and me against the world, remember? We’ll protect each other.”

The resolve in Chat’s voice grounded Ladybug, pulling her out of the spiral. Still, disbelief danced in her consciousness. How could he be so calm, so sure that everything would be okay?

As if in response, he clutched her tighter. “Mistakes or not, you will always be the most amazing person I know, both in and out of the mask,” he continued. “You’re strong. You’re smart. You’re caring. You’re creative - you always find a solution, no matter how crazy or complicated your plans may seem to anyone else. You can do anything. But…you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t have to carry the whole world on your shoulders. I can help - the same way you’ve always helped me. I’m not perfect, but I’m here for you.”

“Liar,” she sniffed, pulling away to wipe the tears from her face. “You are perfect. You’re the nicest, sweetest boy I’ve ever met. You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better, even if it means making those ridiculous cat puns. You’re charming and confident, but you’re always willing to see the good in people. You never give up on anyone, ever. You’re kind, and you’re strong, and selfless, and loyal, and so, so good- and I don’t deserve you.”

He quirked a brow at her, his smile quizzical. “Are you talking about Chat Noir right now, or Adrien?”

Ladybug felt her cheeks heat up, even as another gust of wind shot past them. Perhaps, she realized, she hadn’t been quite as indifferent to Chat Noir as she had convinced herself to be. “Just…you,” she said quietly. “All of you. I see that now. I see you.”

Chat Noir’s expression seemed to shift from bemused to something altogether different. But before she could ask if he was all right, he pulled her back into another embrace. 

“You’re wrong, you know. You do deserve it. You deserve the whole world,” he murmured, his breath warming the shell of her ear. “And I’d gladly give it to you, if you’d allow it.”

Fresh tears began to fall, relief and disbelief coursing through Ladybug as she sank deeper into his arms, allowing herself to be held. Comforted. Loved.

Ladybug buried her face against Chat’s shoulder, thinking of what he had put on the line for her. What he’d kept a secret, even at the expense of his own sense of self. How the one thing he wanted was what he was willing to put aside, all because she’d held back her own feelings for so long. And to what end? Fear or no fear, she realized, there was no use fighting how she felt for him - how they felt for each other. It would be like asking the sun not to rise. 

The fabric of Chat Noir’s suit muffled her voice when at last she broke the silence. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?” 

She smiled to herself, encouraged by the endearing combination of concern and amusement in his tone. “Okay, I’ll allow it. But if we do this… do you think we could, you know, take things slow?” 

Chat froze. “Are- are you sure? You really want to try?”

“We’re going to have to be careful. And I can’t promise I won’t freak out, like, a million more times,” she admitted. “ I’ll need you to be patient with me.”

“Wow,” Chat breathed. “Okay, yeah. Okay. We can do that. I can do that.”

“And there are things we’ll need to practice more...” 

“Like kissing?” he supplied hopefully. 

Blushing, Ladybug swatted at his chest. “Like talking. Communicating.” 

“Oh yes, of course.” 

“I’m serious, chaton.” 

Chat gently tilted her chin upwards, coaxing her to look at him. “I’m serious too, Princess. Serious about this. About us.” 

Ladybug’s stomach swooped as their eyes met. Despite his mask, the veneer had been stripped away…and for the first time in the daylight, she could clearly see the face of the boy she loved. 

Chat Noir. Adrien. Two sides of the same coin, shining in the sunlight, just for her. 

She didn’t say it - not out loud. But she held her gaze steady, hoping he’d understand.  

I see you. And I love you.

He smiled. He knew. And for now, that was enough.

The world had never felt colder. But looking into his eyes, Ladybug felt warmed straight to the core.

[princessamericachavez]

YES HELLO CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT FJORESTER HEART TO HEART?

THE WAY IT PARALLELED THE JELLYFISH TALK??

Fjord following Jester into trouble and momentarily doubting but eventually being like “I don’t care” because he would follow her anywhere even against his best sense

Both of them sitting there, looking out at the night ocean... like they did on a ship so long ago when Jester first opened up about her sadness.

And now she’s volunteering some of it again: 

“Look, you have to see the moon from up here [...] This is where I used to come when, you know, I lived here and I didn’t really any friends. And I would dream about leaving the city and look out in the ocean and think about all the places I could go.”

Sigh

*breathes in*

SCREAMS

guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuys

omg remember 

“And then I don't know what. I want to explore the world. I want to see the lands we haven't seen. I want to find the things that people are scared of and solve them or do whatever anyone else needs to do. But-- I hope she's a part of that.”

I AM STILL SCREAMING I SWEAR

Anyway, we are just getting started but look at Fjord’s faces through this bit 

Because that’s when he realizes that maybe... just maybe... Jester might want the same thing he does... maybe

And then, what does he do? 

He diverts attention to something funny: her drawing dicks on the tower. Why? Because Jester is talking about something sad and Fjord wants nothing more than to cheer her up. 

And then, wishfully, Jester brings up one thing that I’ve been thinking about ever since we found out these two coast kids had been in Nicodranas for years without knowing each other. 

“I wonder if I was ever sitting up here and saw your ship go by even knowing”

“I bet”

Invisible String_Taylor Swift.mp3 

okay but also

PLEASE GUYS 

if any of you have any art skills and wants to give me that poetic image of younger Fjord and Jester, each looking up wishfully... she’s lonely and young and on top of that tall tower looking at the life she craves to live and Fjord is looking at the city full of homes like he’s never had and they are unaware that they are looking at each other’s future??

GUYS PLEASE C’MON 

ok ok ok moving on so Fjord.... 

he brings up Vandran... awkwardly... nervous... stuttering about the whoel thing... 

and his voice suggests that his optimism in Eisselcross was a front put to keep the others calm. 

And then he says the magic words: 

“Would you come with me?”

“Of course!”

Like he has to ask, please. Like she hasn’t followed him everywhere since the very first day they met. Like she wouldn’t follow him to the ends of the earth just like he has followed him through plunging falls and vertiginous heights above volcanos. 

Still Fjord, deep down still that insecure kid who faked a whole personality for months, tries to give her an out. 

“I don’t know if being on the sea is of any interest to you or if you want to stay in Nicodranas because you can now and I would totally understand.”

BOI HE JUST TOLD YOU THIS IS HER LIFE LONG DREAM

LITERALLY

STOP FREAKING OUT

“There’s... That is my favorite place to be. I love it out there.”

THE WAY SHE LOOKS OUT WITH JUST AS MUCH LONGING

“And I feel like there’s so much that we could see and share... Besides fucking Darktow is out there and we spent less that one day on it... That can’t stand”

LOOK AT THEM

THEY ARE SUCH A MESS AND SO CHAOTIC AND THEY ARE BOTH SO CURIOUS AND EXCITED FOR NEW ADVENTURES 

Also, does his tone talking about that remind anyone else to the way he talked about the possibility of finding treasure to make Marion even fancier before she meets Jester’s father again???

Because I really feel like that’s the same mood. 

The same longing for more while trying to make her laugh. 

“I would love to go out there with you. I would love to meet Vandran.”

“We could make this our port.”

“We could make this our port”

“WE COULD MAKE THIS OUR PORT”

“WE COULD MAKE THIS OUR PORT”

(sidenote this line alone could’ve sent me spiraling before they were canon... and still kinda does)

excuse me while i scream for the next ten minutes

And then Fjord drops the hint that he wants to still deal with some stuff in Port Damali

ONE SHOT WHEN TRAVIS

GIMME THAT ONE SHOT

YOU WANT IT

I WANT IT

WE ALL WANT IT 

UKOTOA WANTS IT

I WANNA MEET SABIAN AND GO TO DARKTOW AND GO TO PORT DAMALI 

PLEASE

“But... this city really is beautiful”

YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SAY IT LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT

AND YOU REALLY DIDN’T HAVE TO SAY IT LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT JUST LIKE YOU DID WHEN YOU SAID THE JELLYFISH WERE BEAUTIFUL TRAVIS 

AND YET HE DID

“There’s always a home for us here”

hey hey hey hey remember that Tarot reading and Fjord’s future card being “home/the traveler”??????

BECAUSE i do

IF I MADE A DRINKING GAME WITH SHOTS EVERY TIME THIS CONVERSATION had a throw back for the campaign I WOULD END UP LIKE VETH

 “Or... maybe we could... you know... get our- our own place”

THE LOOK OF A WOMAN WHO JUST REALIZED THIS MAN WANTS TO MARRY HER (in paper graph again)

im sorry but the rest of the cast’s faces are too good to let out 

And then Jester gets SO EXCITED THAT SHE CAN’T EVEN SPEAK

because this boy

this man 

this man she loves

he wants to spend his life with her

this isn’t just a “come have adventures and fun with me” proposition 

this is a “spend your life with me proposition”

and while she can’t talk of course Fjord panics

much like she did after the “i love you”

because these idiots are really made for eachother and still stumbling through their own confusing feelings for each other even after so long as friends and they are so afraid of screwing it up 

But when finally she speaks, when Jester says “yes”... her tone isn’t just a “yes”... THAT YES SOUNDS LIKE AN “I DO”

And they are both so nervous and happy okay?

And then

OKAY LISTEN STRAIGHT OUR OF A ROMCOM 

He looks at her

and she meets his gaze

and they both look down blushing

and then she looks at him first

and he meets her gaze

and they don’t look down this time, this time is steady... because they both know they love each other

“I’m really glad that everything happened the way it did”

“Yeah, me too.”

Good and bad. Tumbles and crushes and heartbreaks and deaths and tears and fights and laughter and adventures and doubts and confusion and longing and pining and protecting each other and fighting together and falling and rising and catching each other and healing each other and looking out for each other  because it all lead to this... to this moment where they are together and so sure that they are loved and cherished and that this is where they want to be and there’s so much more in their future to look forward to

And Jester snuggles up to him and Travis does the tiniest move to show how he leans against her that just DESTROYS me 

and of course Fjord needs to make a joke then, to lighten the mood, because these two disasters are friends first and foremost and is in their chaos that they understand each other

and they have so many adventures ahead

i love them so much you guys

im going to miss them so bad

i love them

oh god

[collecting-stories]

Book Club - 90s!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie books a gig at a suburban mom’s book club and Luke takes full advantage of the situation to flirt with you. 

A/N: I’m literally writing two other Luke fics right now 😭😭

Julie and the Phantoms Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The third Thursday of every month belonged to your mother. It was her day, when she demanded not to be bothered, when she spent hours out of the house socializing with the women’s group that she belonged to. And, out of all those Thursdays, there were always the very special few when it wasn’t her leaving the house but everyone else. The group rotated their meeting time, everyone for a blue moon meeting at your house, meaning, of course that you were expected to stay out. Staying out was not a difficult thing to do, in fact you relished the opportunity to spend a few more hours with your friends. 

It was one of those Thursdays, when all the ladies that your mother loved to lunch with were spending the afternoon at your house and you were making yourself scarce, that arguably the weirdest but maybe best thing happened. Your mom had told you before you left for school that morning that she expected you to stay out, and you would have, if you had remembered your wallet. But you’d left it in your room, on the edge of the vanity, and you didn’t want to be the one owing money when your friends went to lunch. A quick stop home should’ve been easy, the stairs were right off the kitchen and the side door was right there, giving you the opportunity to shoot upstairs and grab your wallet without her being the wiser to it. 

The whole thing would’ve gone off without a hitch except that when you walked through the side door and into the kitchen you came face to face with four boys from your school. You recognized them more for the fact that you didn’t hang out in the same circle; most of your friends held a certain level of contempt for the four guys that made up Sunset Curve. You didn’t necessarily dislike any of them, you didn’t necessarily even know them, though you would be lying if you said that the lead singer, who occasionally sat in front of you in math, was seriously making you rethink a deep dive into all this rock music. Luke, Reggie, Alex, and Bobby were standing in your kitchen. They were the Green Day/Nirvana worshipping, head banging rockers that ditched school regularly and got into worlds of trouble and they were standing in your kitchen.  

Bobby was the only one who looked up from snacking on leftover hors d’oeurves, saying your name in surprise as the other three all stopped to look at you too. Alex gave an awkward little wave as he set down the small sandwich he was eating.  

“Uh...what are you guys doing in my house,” you asked, looking between the four of them.  

“Your mom tapped us to perform for her ladies club.” Luke explained, dropping his food on the plate and wiping his hands against his black pants.  

Your mom had invited these four to sing for her conservative ladies’ group? You tried not to but you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face when you thought about it. Whatever your friends said about the guys, you weren’t ashamed to say you had taken one of the free demos that Reggie handed out and had been listening to it on repeat for a while now. “My mom wanted you guys to play a gig for her and her friends?” You clarified.

“Until we started playing,” Reggie replied, and you couldn’t help laughing.

“I bet...you guys aren’t exactly...suburban mom rock.” You joked, “though I totally would’ve loved to see their faces when you guys started singing.”  

The grin on Luke’s face was unmistakable though you missed it as you nabbed one of the sandwiches on the plate near Alex. It was probably some really stupid cliche, him liking one of the popular girls. Cute, cheerleader, future prom queen. You hung out with people who listened to Britney Spears and Spice Girls, any knowledge of the rock scene they might’ve actually had was only for the sake of making dumb jabs at him or his friends. Still, Luke had a massive crush on you and he wasn’t so embarrassed to admit it. Bobby joked that he wanted to “bring you over to the dark side” and maybe that sounded cynical but he thought he wouldn’t mind seeing you look a little less perfectly put together if it had something to do with him. Hearing you mention his music almost had him doing a back flip from excitement.  

“So you’ve listened to our music?” Luke asked, moving closer to you, leaning on the counter beside you. Behind him, Alex rolled his eyes.

“Reggie gave out demos like...last month.” You shrugged, trying to play it off. You’d been excited to listen to their music, see if it was any good and had discovered that you actually loved it. They were talented guys and you felt surprisingly connected to the songs. “I might’ve listened.”

“I did!” Reggie piped up, “I gave demos to all the-” he stopped, mouthing instead, as if you wouldn’t understand him when he said ‘all the cute girls’.  

“I hate to ask but...don’t you think like, actual clubs would be better places to promote your music? I don’t think the middle-aged moms are really a target audience, unless you’re into that kind of thing?” You said, peering down the hallway when you heard the familiar squeak of a floorboard. If the boys were still here than there was no doubt in your mind that your mom had told them to stay for some reason or another.  

“You gotta start somewhere.” Luke replied, unfazed by the hint of judgement in your voice.  

“My living room?” You asked, jokingly.  

He smiled, “actually, we’re playing a club on the strip tomorrow night, we could, maybe, get you on the guest list?”  

“We’re opening for someone else,” Bobby cut in, bringing Luke back down to reality, “I’m pretty sure no one’s ever even heard of the band we’re opening for.”  

Luke glared at Bobby, sticking his finger in his mouth and then jabbing it into Bobby’s ear, a smile of success immediately lighting up his features when Bobby recoiled in disgust. “So what’d ya say?” Luke asked.  

“I mean, I guess technically every band deserves girls screaming for them, so sure…I’ll go.” You agreed, eyes on Luke the entire time.  

The last concert you had been to wasn’t even for you, your mom had dragged you to a Beach Boys concert up in San Francisco for her birthday weekend when your father refused to indulge her so-called ‘terrible taste in music’. “There are just some things we will never agree on and music is one of them.” He had insisted back then. It was the same thing you felt like telling your friends when you declined a party invitation in favor of heading down to the strip to see the guys play. You could’ve maybe played it off casually, as if you were heading down there anyway and Sunset Curve just happened to be opening but Bobby was right, you’d never heard of the band that was performing after them.  

Not to mention Luke decided to show up for a least a quarter of the day just to mess with your head. You had spotted him in the hallway between classes and smiled when he looked your way, a split second before the sea of students scrambled to get to their lockers. Your own best friends appeared by yours, looking more and more like carbon copies of the Heathers every day. You kind of hated them, truth be told, but you didn’t have too many other options.  

They were badgering you about the party as you tried to wrack your brain for an excuse that sounded convincing when Luke stopped, right in front of the three of you.  

“Hey, I’ll see ya tonight?” He asked, whole body turned to face you and completely ignoring the looks of disdain and shock cloaking your friends faces.  

You felt like a deer in headlights. Say yes and your friends would probably ostracise you, say no and you could just imagine the look on Luke’s face. Anything but this absolutely sincere and hopeful smile was something you didn’t want to be responsible for. You really liked him looking at you like that.  

“Yeah, can’t wait.” You nodded.  

When he stepped back out into the traffic of the hallway he touched your waist, as if he was anchoring himself for a second and you bit your lip, letting yourself watch him disappear before turning to face the firing squad.  

“Luke Patterson?” Both of your friends spoke in unison, one breaking off to elaborate, “you’re ditching a party at Max Turner’s house for Luke Patterson?”  

“His band is playing at some club on the strip.” You replied, shutting your locker and heading toward your next class. “They invited me to come watch the show.”

“And you’re going?”  

You hadn’t been to anything smaller than a stadium concert before and the implication of a concert at a local club venue, right on the strip with all the ‘riffraff’ that were hanging around trying to make it big like their 80’s punk rock idols wasn’t exactly your scene but, Luke had looked so cute asking you to go and you had the tiniest, maybe delusional, feeling that he’d come to school just to remind you that tonight was the concert. How could could even consider some suburban house party to that?  

“Yeah, why not,” you shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing, you could see your social status flashing before your eyes and your mom’s voice desperately begging you to reconsider. “Besides, Luke’s hot.”

“Did you have some kind of Freaky Friday switch when you woke up this morning? Luke is not hot.”  

“Okay,” you drew the word as if disbelieving. He wasn’t some 90210 reincarnate but he was definitely one of the hottest guys in school, not to mention the sleeveless shirts were an added bonus. “Well, I said I was going, so I’m going.”

And, despite the continued protests of your friends throughout the day, you did go. You promised your parents you were spending Friday night studying at Terri’s house and took the bus down to the strip to wait in line for Sunset Curve and whoever was headlining. You stood there twirling your fake ID in your hands, listening to the two girls in front of you (who didn’t need fakes) talk about some drummer that wasn’t anyone you’d ever heard of and tried to look as mature as possible. If Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby could play this venue, surely you could get into it.  

Whether the ID worked or the bouncer at the front door just didn’t care, he let you through, admitting you into a pulsing crowd of people making their way through the small vestibule and into the venue. You slipped your way through the crowd until you made it to the front, pressed against the railing and inches away from another bouncer who seemed just as disinterested in you. The drumkit that was already on the stage had the Sunset Curve logo on it. You ran a hand through your hair and fixed your shirt, maybe it was silly but you were sort of hoping that even in the silhouetted lighting of the venue you Luke might see you. Maybe a little pathetic groupie on your end but he had invited you.  

And he did see you. Halfway through Now or Never when he looked down over the crowd, he caught you, dancing along to their music, the smile on your face as you mouthed the words was infectious. It was the combination of seeing someone singing all the songs back to them and that person being you, mixed with the adrenaline of the performance, that had him pushing to give his absolute all. You’d actually come and he was determined to make this a great concert for you.  

Alex was the one to announce that they would be in the vestibule during the lull between bands, they got the occasional straggler who dared to leave their post long enough to say hello or great job but usually it garnered nothing more than the four of them splitting some pizza and relaxing by their merch table. Tonight, as they headed off stage to an enthusiastic crowd, Luke chanced a glance back but he couldn’t find you in the sea of people. Reggie grabbed his arm, pulling him the rest of the way off the stage and throwing an arm around his shoulder, going on about how awesome the show was, Luke quickly returning the jovial compliment.

“We were fire, man, that sounded so rad tonight!” He cheered, following Alex and Bobby as they made their way through the small hall that wove back into the vestibule.  

“It was insane!” Reggie agreed.  

You had made your way back through the venue after Luke mentioned being at the merch table, slipping back passed the bouncer at the inside door, flashing your stamped hand. Their table was set up in the corner, a little way away from the headlining band’s. You stepped into the vestibule at the same time as the boys, waving at Alex when he looked your way. He nodded, reaching over to tap Luke’s chest with the back of his hand.  

“That was incredible.” You admitted, walking over to their table. Luke’s smile instantly widened as he walked around to your side, not even thinking as he hugged you, your shoulders hunching at the feeling of sweat that encompassed you. “Ew.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Luke apologized, pulling away and putting his hands on your upper arms for a second before dropping them to his sides. “Still going off the adrenaline.”

“That’s okay,” you promised, “you’re cute enough to get away with it.”

“Yeah?” He leaned against the table, trying to look cool. He felt like he was grasping for words and he didn’t want to start stuttering or sounding dumb, Bobby would never let him live it down if he made a fuck up of himself. The other three tried not to laugh and ruin his moment.  

You seemed to recover from the moment first, glancing at the other three before landing on Luke again. “You guys are totally a live band though...like that was so good.”  

Reggie came in with a save, letting Luke off the hook for a moment, “Are you heading back in to see the headliner?”  

You grimaced, “don’t really know them...not really interested.” You replied, keeping your eyes on Luke, hoping that was hint enough that you’d come just to see him.  

It clearly was because, as a few girls stepped into the vestibule and looked like they were coming your way, Luke grabbed your arm, nodding toward the doorway for you to follow him. You did, walking with him into the hallway so that it was quieter, the sounds of the house music and the chatter of people outside being drowned out in the small corridor.  

“So, uh, sorry I’m still wigging out that you came.” He admitted.  

“I said I was going to, twice. Did you seriously think I was lying?” You asked.  

“I mean, I heard your friends giving you a hard time when I walked away, figured you might back out.”  

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, seriously Luke, you guys are amazing. You’re so talented.” You replied.  

“Guess I was right when I told Reggie to take that book club gig huh?” He said, fiddling with the rabbit’s foot on his keychain.  

“Why’s that?”  

“I thought maybe if I was lucky, I’d catch a glimpse of you...having you come here and watch us though? Better than I could’ve imagined.” He replied, grinning at you.  

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, don’t act so surprised.” He said, “you gotta know how insanely cool you are. And you look beautiful tonight, by the way.”  

“Thanks,” you bit your bottom lip to try and keep your composure, “I uh...damn, you’re making me super nervous.”  

“Yeah?” He stepped a little closer to you, his hands brushing against yours as if he was going to hold them. You couldn’t help wishing he would.  

“I should probably let you get back to your fans,” you pointed out, glancing back out the door to where a few more people had gathered. If you stayed in this hallway with him any longer there was no way you were letting him back out.  

“Hang out? We could grab some pizza or something after?” He asked.  

“Yeah, absolutely.”  

When he walked back through the door you followed behind him, hanging back so you weren’t hovering around them as they chatted with and signed stuff for the group of people that had ventured out between sets. It didn’t matter though, as he talked, he kept looking back at you smiling as if you were both in on some sort of secret.  

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 11

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  “When we get out of here, Din will fly us far, far away,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the baby's resumed chewing. “I promise you we’ll be happy together.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,511

Warnings: captured reader, angst, bonding with Grogu, plot plot plot

Author Note: To anyone and everyone sticking with this series, I love you so much! I know the plot is more than a little thick right now, but answers are slowly but surely being revealed. 

Links to Part 1 and Part 10 and Part 12

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

You pace the length of the cell, brow furrowed as you try to organize your racing thoughts. Between the chilly atmosphere and the severed bond wailing for its other half, you imagine you outwardly resemble the jittery and unbalanced mess you feel internally. You refuse to feel humiliated by your appearance, not when the witnesses are Gideon and his minions. They can think what they want about you, believe they have broken your spirit, because that just means they won’t expect it when you free yourself until it’s too late.

However, part two of your plan of escape is proving to be more challenging to conceptualize than you initially thought. The collar is tightly wound around your neck to the point of chafing. Apparently the rule of being able to slip two fingers under a collar is only applicable to animals in Gideon’s eyes because your attempt of slipping your finger between skin and metal is dissuaded by another electric shock zipping through your body.

However, as you lightly trail your fingertips over the cold metal, you’re surprised to feel a noticeable dip in the back. It’s not a design flaw, you think as you try to visualize it in your mind. Your heartbeat quickens as realization strikes: it’s a keyhole.

Any excitement you might feel at your discovery is spoiled by the fact a keyhole is useless without a key. You look at the laser gate, further disappointed as you contemplate the complexity of the tunnel system. There could be dozens of cells down here, potentially thousands of hiding places for Gideon to keep the key to the collar secure. Not to mention, you don’t even know what the key looks like. It could be hanging right outside the cell and you’d have no idea.

Lost in the sea of disparaging thoughts, you don’t notice the return of the baby crawling through the hole in the wall until he latches onto your foot. Startled, you barely manage to refrain from shouting a curse as you stare down at him. He giggles, clearly amused by your wide-eyed expression, and then slaps a silver plastic bag against your shin using the hand that isn’t gripping his favorite black cloth.

“Did you bring me a present?” you ask, taking a seat on the pallet and lifting him up onto your lap. This time when you reach forward, he willingly lets you take the item from him instead of trying to take a chunk out of your hand.

You tear open the plastic, revealing its contents to be five teal-colored cookies.

“Wow, bud,” you murmur, holding one up between pinched fingers. The treat smells distinctively like vanilla. From what you’ve witnessed, you doubt Gideon is the type to offer his prisoners dessert with their meals which means these were probably stolen from somewhere. “Where did you find these?”

The baby only babbles unintelligibly in response, gesturing with his free hand in the direction of somewhere beyond the laser gate. You nod along, feigning understanding, but your eyes can’t help but drift to his collar when he turns his head. The keyhole for his collar is smaller than you expect to see which has you quickly theorizing there is not one universal key for all of the collars. If that theory is true, then it raises the difficulty of escaping yet another level.

With a sigh you cram the cookie into your mouth, finding the tiniest smidge of joy in its crunchiness.

“When we get out of here I’ll buy you a dozen boxes of these,” you tell him once you’ve swallowed, offering him one of the cookies. He coos excitedly and takes a large bite, uncaring of the blue crumbs that rain down upon his coat. “And once Din sees you, I bet he’ll want to spoil you rotten, too. He has a not-so-secret soft spot for kids.”

The baby’s head tilts, reacting to the name-drop by making a confused gurgling sound around his mouthful.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” you scold gently, tapping his nose with your finger and laughing under your breath when it proceeds to scrunch up in an adorable manner. Leaning your head back against the wall, you’re unable to keep the note of wistful longing out of your voice as you explain, “Din is my soulmate. To the rest of the world, he’s known as Death. They’ll have you believe he’s someone to be feared and avoided at all cost. But luckily I’m here to tell you the truth.”

He stares up at you, snack seemingly forgotten in favor of listening intently to every word coming out of your mouth. Distantly you think you should be a little scared by how intense his gaze is, as if he’s attempting to look past your skin to the soul beneath, but you remind yourself all babies are innately curious and don’t know it’s rude to stare.

“He’ll never admit to it himself, but underneath all that beskar armor, he is the most socially inept being in the galaxy. I swear, bud, the first time I met him I thought it was impossible for him to say more than two words or else he’d hurt himself.” Your lips twitch at the memory, the smallest of smiles you can make without it feeling forced. “Still, despite his horrible first impression, I couldn’t get him off my mind. I wouldn’t call it love at first sight, but—look, I know how crazy this sounds, okay? But I felt like I had to get to know him better. There was this voice in my head insisting we couldn’t just remain strangers. It took about ten thousand questions and three more meetings for me to earn his trust enough for him to take off his helmet and let me see his face.”

You take a deep breath and stroke your finger over the baby’s ears, needing to feel something other than the flaring pulse of pain from the bond. “One look at those beautiful brown eyes and I was done for.”

Saying Din’s eyes are brown feels sinful. It’s like saying the ocean is blue—accurate, but not detailed enough to describe its depth and volatility. There are days when his eyes are the shade of brown reminding you of leather bound journals—ancient and full of profound wisdom, meant to be admired and cherished for an entire lifetime. Other times, they are the kind of brown that matches your favorite chocolate pastry from the bakery down the street from your apartment—decadent and warm with the slightest hint of temptation.

“When we get out of here, Din will fly us far, far away,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the baby's resumed chewing. “I promise you we’ll all be happy together.”

And I’ll never get tired of seeing those brown eyes everyday.

~~

The hours start to bleed into one another. The baby snoozes in your lap, head pillowed on your thigh, but you have no idea if it’s night or day. Gideon had said he’d let you talk to Din ‘tomorrow’, but that doesn’t tell you how many days you’ve been here in total.

Your legs have started to feel numb from sitting in the same position so long, but the last thing you want is to wake him up by moving. The importance of him feeling safe enough to be vulnerable and sleep is not lost on you. His desire for attention and physical contact is so painfully obvious you hate thinking about how often he must have been ignored before your arrival.

As he sleeps, you’re unable to resist your curiosity any longer and carefully maneuver the piece of cloth out of his grip. Despite its aged and dirty appearance, it is still surprisingly soft to touch. Whatever article of clothing this was torn from must have been well-tailored, you think, imagining a hooded cloak or perhaps a long coat. Your nose twitches when you hold the cloth close to your face to better study it, reacting to the variety of odors embedded in the wool fibers. Maker knows how long the kid’s been dragging the fabric around with him without it being washed regularly, so you shouldn’t be surprised it has absorbed a couple dozen scents.

Still, the faint essence of smoke you detect swirls around in your brain even long after you’ve laid the cloth back over him like a makeshift blanket. Memories of your death start to resurface again despite your best mental efforts to push them away, causing your stomach to clench with nausea as you recall the horrific stench of charred remains.

It isn’t the same, you tell yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing your head to clear itself. It can’t be because that day was fifty years ago and he’s only just a baby.

You repeat these thoughts like a mantra until, without meaning to, you fall into a dreamless sleep.

~~

You’re startled awake by hands seizing hold of your arms and pulling you up onto your feet without warning. You yelp at the sudden rush back to consciousness, brain scrambling to make sense of everything. Your eyes sweep the ground, panic washing over you like a bucket of cold water when you fail to see a tiny green body.

“It’s time, pet,” the twi’lek’s voice hits your ears and you turn to see her standing near the cell’s entrance, a lantern in one hand and a shiny blade in the other. “The Moff is expecting you.”

It takes you a minute to process in your frazzled state, but you realize it must be time to talk to Din. You’re shoved forward by whoever has your arms twisted behind your back, but you manage another quick survey of the cell. There is no sign the baby was ever here and you send a quick prayer to the Maker he had snuck back through the hole without anyone seeing him.

You have mixed feelings about not being blindfolded as you’re led through the underground labyrinth. On one hand, you get to observe everything and everyone you come across, making as many mental notes to flip through later when you’re alone. On the other, you think this must be an intimidation tactic. Gideon wants you to see everything so you know with absolute certainty how high the odds are stacked against you.

There are cells identical in appearance to yours on either side of you, carved into the tunnel rock and blocked from entry by laser gates. Except not one of them contains a prisoner. Either you have severely overestimated the size of Gideon’s collection, or he is purposefully keeping you separate from the rest for reasons known only to him.

Another surprising and unsettling observation you make is how many different types of species Gideon has employed as minions—human, rodian, trandoshan, you even spot a devaronian in the mix. Except for the Cupid twi’lek in front of you, everyone you come across is mortal. It does not make much sense to you why a seraph as powerful as Gideon is relying on mortal henchmen to help maintain control of his secret prison. Your gut instinct is insisting you’re missing a vital piece of information and you don’t like being in the dark about it.

The tunnel you’re being marched down eventually opens up into a larger cavernous space with several dozen lanterns hanging along the walls providing ample lighting. There are several crates spread about the area, and some have been pried open to reveal they are packed full of blasters and ammunition. You rack your brain trying to determine the purpose of the weapons. Yes, clearly, they are meant to cause havoc and destruction, but why are they here? Who or what is the target they will be aimed at?

Gideon stands in the middle of the room next to an empty chair. On his other side is a mortal human male, bald-headed with ginger facial scruff, who has two blaster pistols holstered around his chest and yet another one held by a droid arm attached to his backpack. Overkill much?

You’re shoved in the direction of the chair and gruffly told to sit. Huffing, you wordlessly obey and try not to squirm as all eyes lock onto you as if you’re going to perform a trick for their entertainment.

“You have a minute to record your message,” Gideon says, holding out a piece of paper towards you. “These words I have prepared must be included in those precious sixty seconds or you might find me reluctant to allow you to send a second recording.”

Is he serious? This isn’t the arrangement you previously discussed with him.

“Record?” you repeat, reluctantly taking the paper.

“I never said you would have the opportunity of speaking to Death face-to-face.” You want more than anything to tear the condescending smirk off his face with your fingernails. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, isn’t that the mortal saying? You would know better than me, living amongst them in that quaint little apartment on Umbriel.”

Of course he knows about your home. Of kriffing course he does.

Heartbeat quickening, you avoid eye contact by scanning the few lines of words he’s written, eyebrows slowly inching up your forehead the more you read. “I don’t understand. This isn’t a demand to kill anyone. What does it mean?”

“Now is not the time for you to know,” he answers cryptically.

You shake your head, insisting, “Well maybe it should be. He knows me better than anyone. He’ll be able to tell I’m confused and—“

Gideon’s heavy sigh interrupts you. Then, quicker than you anticipate, he steps to the side of you and unsheathes his sword, its black blade positioned at your throat. It happens in one fluid movement, and the danger of your current predicament doesn’t sink in until the frightening humming notes of the weapon register in your eardrums seconds later. Your expressionless mask wavers, facial muscles tightening as you fail to refrain from flinching.

“All that is required from you, Cupid 1-1-7, is for you to speak from the heart and convince him to follow this one instruction. Do you think you can accomplish that?” he asks the question as if you have an actual choice. Like you can walk away now and there will be no hurt feelings.

But that is ridiculous. Everyone knows Cupids don’t get to have choices. Not when they are only given orders to obey.

You give him the tiniest of nods, careful not to let your skin make contact with the blade. “Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s begin.”

~~

The nav computer on the Razor Crest contains the coordinates of every moon and planet within each region of the galaxy. There is not one inch of space unknown to Din and yet his search for his angel continues to remain unsuccessful. He doesn’t consider the possibility of her being deceased for even half a second. As her soulmate he would have felt her passing the moment it happened. The bond he shares with his angel might be young and fragile still, but he doesn’t doubt her loss would eviscerate him in the same merciless manner he had done to Hess.

His inability to find her can only mean a powerful immortal is involved in her capture. As Death he roams the universe as a neutral entity. The only enemies he encountered—and he uses that term loosely—were foolish mortals thinking they could outlive their destined time by fighting him, only to ultimately meet their fated ends in the process. Prior to Hess’ demise, he had upheld his sworn creed to the universe and never once was tempted to defy the natural order or break a sacred rule.

Although admittedly strange to consider, the thought that maybe his angel’s capture isn’t meant to deliberately hurt him or her is one that keeps crossing his mind. Perhaps they are merely pieces in a game neither of them recognize nor want to willingly participate in.

As Din sits in the pilot’s seat, staring at the screen dispassionately through the visor of his helmet still coated with Hess’ blood, he is well-aware of Bo-Katan standing behind him, attempting to freeze him solid with her iciest glare.

She is the bravest of his reapers, unafraid to piss him off and counteract his opinions with her own. Yet ever since they left Hess’ body hanging in the warehouse and returned to the Crest, she’s not said one word to him, seemingly content to suffer in silence as a background presence while he contemplates whether he should be the one to track down the twi’lek Hess referenced or if he should have his reapers engage in the hunt.

“We’re going to talk about what happened,” Bo-Katan says coolly.

He grinds his teeth. “We will talk if and when I want to.”

“No.” She forcefully pulls at his chair, turning it around to face her. A snarl escapes him, animalistic and furious, but her green eyes don’t even blink, not the least bit intimidated. “You reaped a soul before it’s destined time. The universe isn’t going to easily forgive you for that. There will be consequences.”

“The only thing that matters is getting her back,” he answers. It’s the truth too. The second his angel was taken he knew there was not one rule he wouldn’t break to have her back in his arms—consequences be damned.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Bo-Katan asks, looking him over as if she no longer recognizes him. Her eyes linger just a second too long on his bloodstained gloves. “You’re losing your mind over a soulmate you’ve barely known a year.”

“Have you ever had someone you loved taken from you?” Din counters.

She scowls, eyes narrowing with loathing. “How dare you compare—”

“Answer the question!” he shouts, slamming his fist down on the armrest hard enough the metal creaks ominously.

“Yes.” Her chin dips briefly towards her chest as she takes a second to compose herself. “You know I have.”

Din does know. Hours prior to every major catastrophic event in the galaxy’s history he’s felt an invisible leash wrap around him, pulling him in the direction of the tragedy and demanding he be there to personally reap the souls of the victims in the aftermath. He had witnessed the destruction of Bo-Katan’s homeworld when it was ravaged by a series of bombings orchestrated by an unknown enemy. Thousands had been killed, including Bo-Katan’s sister.

He doesn’t let the silence stretch too long, voice unwavering as he says, “And if you had the chance, would you not kill the one responsible for your pain?”

“It wouldn’t bring her back. Not any of them.”

Din sighs, glancing away, but Bo-Katan surprises him not even ten seconds later, apparently unfinished.

“I’d still do it though,” she says, not sounding the least bit guilty for admitting to hypothetical murder. “I’d carve the heart out of whoever set off those bombs and force-feed it to them.”

“We’re more alike than you may think,” Din says. “Think about that before you question my actions again.”

Any potential response from his reaper is interrupted by the beeping of an incoming transmission. He turns his chair at once, noticing the recorded message’s origin source is a random scrambling of letters and numbers. Every instinct is telling him he won’t like what he sees, but his hand reaches forward anyways, as if possessed by an unseen force, and presses the button to view the recording.

His angel appears as a holographic figure and immediately his eyes zero in on the collar around her neck. Anger threatens to course through his veins again, but Din forces his lungs to draw in a deep breath. Now is not the time to unleash his temper. Now is the time to listen and commit every word she says to memory, to study her every feature for any sign she’s been hurt.

“Death,” she begins, and his entire body tenses at the use of his title and not his name. It’s been so long since she’s addressed him as such, he knows it can’t be accidental. “I hope this message reaches you wherever you are. More than anything I wish I could be with you right now. I’m so sorry I broke my pinky promise to you, sweetheart. The way our bond is...I hate to think you’re feeling as much pain as I do.”

Din’s heart shatters when she starts to anxiously rub at her soulmate marking, sniffling quietly. His fingers itch with the overwhelming longing to hold her hand.

“I’m not safe here. What they’ve threatened to do to me...it scares me. I-I need to ask you a favor, a very important one.” A few teardrops escape the corners of her eyes and drip down her cheeks. Din bites the inside of his mouth so harshly he tastes blood. “If you want to protect me, then you must let go.”

The transmission goes dead.

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @oh-no-a-whovian​, @over300books​, @chibi-yuki, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[itsallyscorner]

obvius w sebastian bc hes my baby. Seb's pov? fluff fluff

Hehehe Obvious is such a cute song🥺 I hope you like it and thank you for being patient!❤️❤️

Also just realized you said you wanted it in Seb’s pov, I totally missed that, I’m so sorry💀😭

💌.

obvious

Warnings: none, just different mornings of waking up next to Seb:)

I love the taste of you in the morning

Keep me warm and

Nothin' else, nothin' more important

Makes me wanna believe in love (Mmm)

I love the thought of us in the evening

Crave the feeling

The way you feel, somethin' 'bout it's healing

I'm praying we don't fuck this up (Ah-ah-ah, babe)

The sun’s light shines through the curtains creating a warm light to fill the room. The room is slightly chilly but you could care less. Being in Sebastian’s arms had kept you warm throughout the night. You take a breath in as you stretch your limbs out, the sounds of the sheets shifting and your joints cracking breaking the silence.

Sebastian’s hand rests on your bare stomach under your shirt. His large hand keeping your exposed stomach warm. You stroke his arm before turning in his grip. You’re greeted by Sebastian sleeping beside you. His hair is a fluffy mess, the ends splayed out against the pillow his head is on. His face is peaceful while his mouth is slightly agape.

You lazily smile as you lightly brush a strand of his short hair from his forehead. You press a kiss to the corner of his lips as you admire his sleeping form. Was it kinda creepy? Maybe. But the love of your life was sleeping beside you in bed and you enjoyed the feeling of waking up beside him.

Sebastian’s lips crack into a smile a few seconds after you kiss him. The sight makes you grin, “Were you awake this whole time?”

Sebastian hums as he rubs the sleep out his eyes. Your (e/c) eyes meet his crystal ones when his lids finally open. Pulling you closer into his chest he softly says, “I woke up when you started stretching.”

You look up at him and kiss his chin as he looks down at you. His thumbs stroke your back as his palms are flush against your skin.

“Good morning.” You contently sigh. Your arm rests on his shoulder while your fingers card through his soft hair.

“Good morning, iubitel.” His voice is rough and gravely, fresh from sleep. You realize how lucky you are to be one of the first people to hear his voice like this in the morning.

“I like this.” You muse as you tuck your head in between his shoulder and neck.

“You like what, my love?” His chest rumbles against yours, reminding you that this is real and that he woke up beside you.

“Waking up next to you. Waking up in your arms and being warm when I wake up because I have my own human furnace.” You feel him shift so that he’s on his back and you’re on top of him. You rest your head on your arms as you stare down at him, “I want this every morning.”

“I know, I want this every morning too. You’re a really great teddy bear.” He jokes as he leans into you. You make a noise and hide your face in your arms. Sebastian huffs as he tries to maneuver his way to your lips.

“Baby, I need my good morning kiss.” He whines, trying to move your arms.

“No, let me brush my teeth first.” You protest. Sebastian huffs again and flips the two of you over. Suddenly, his fingers are digging into your sides, making you squeal.

“NO SEB!” Your hands grip onto his trying to stop his fingers. Sebastian smiles and crashes his lips onto yours. The taste of him entering your mouth as you eventually kiss him back. His fingers now stroking your sides, soothing them from his tickling.

“I love you.” He tells you against your lips.

“I love you too.”

Others that I've had had to impress me before

But I knew you were the real thing

When you walked through the door

I didn't think that I would have to spell it out

You met Seb on set of The Winter Soldier. You were part of the makeup department and he happened to be assigned to you. Now during that time, he was in a relationship, though that didn’t stop you from secretly having a crush on him. I mean, you had to face him every single day because you did his makeup, so you couldn’t avoid him.

You remember the first day you met him. The way he walked in through the trailer doors with a shy smile on his face and how he asked if he was in the right trailer. Since the beginning, he’s shown nothing but kindness and respect to you and the others on set.

You work with him again during Civil War and you guys got closer. He was assigned to you again which meant you saw him everyday. You guys caught up, asking each other what they’ve been up to or how their day was. When you asked him how his girlfriend was he made a face and told you that they broke up. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the tiniest bit of excitement burst inside you.

Around the same time, he asked you out to lunch during one of his breaks. As much as you wanted to go you couldn’t because you were needed on set. So Sebastian brought lunch to you, which started the routine of having lunch in his trailer together. Trailer lunches turned into real dates and those dates eventually became the start of your relationship.

Oh, my love, oh, my love is free

Ain't no price on my loyalty

No shit, got me right where you want me, baby

Could I be more obvious? (Ooh)

The two of you were tangled in your sheets once again on a sunny morning. Sebastian had been staying at your place for a few days now, wanting to spend as much time with you before he leaves for another one of his projects.

The two of you laid in silence, basking in the warm and calm atmosphere of the sun’s light in your room. You were laying on your stomach, your right hand tucked under your head and your left hand on Sebastian’s chest. Your eyes were shut as you felt Sebastian play with the fingers of your left hand.

“You’ll still be here for me when I come back right?” He asks, his voice so small and quiet. His question makes your eyes open so you’re staring at the side of his face. He’s focused on your fingers, eyebrows knitted softly together.

You stop his fiddling and interlace your fingers with his. He turns his head to look at you, smiling when he sees you’re looking back at him.

“Of course I will. You don’t even have to ask me twice.” You tell him reassuringly as you scoot closer to him in bed.

“Why?” You ask him, your chin now resting on his shoulder.

“I don’t know. You deserve someone who’ll spend all the time in the world with you. Not, not me. I’m always leaving for work and I barely get to spend any time with you. You deserve someone who wakes up in the same time zone as you and not have to have dates over FaceTime because they keep missing out anniversaries.” He explained as he went back to playing with your fingers. You pull yourself up to rest on your elbow and guide Sebastian’s face to look at you.

“Who says I’m not happy to be in a relationship with you? I understand your job and I know it’s difficult, but in the end we’re gonna see each other again. You make me feel like the luckiest woman in the world. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else, Seb. Trust me, I only want you.” He looks into your eyes and finds nothing but sincerity.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You place your lips onto his as his thumb runs along the skin of your left ring finger. 

Maybe if I'm lucky, you might stay the afternoon

If you gotta work, just promise me you'll come back soon

Maybe you should pack a suitcase too (Too)

I love the thought of you never leavin' (No)

Days repeatin'

Gettin' steps up on the treadmill while you sleepin'

Never thought I'd believe in love again

The bed shifts underneath you, causing you to stir in your sleep. Sebastian shushes you when he sees you turn to his side. He watches as your arm reaches out for him but instead it’s met with the bed. He audibly awes when he sees you pout and scrunch your face up in your sleep. He kneels onto the bed and runs a hand through your hair before kissing your temple.

“Sebba.” You mumble as you start to wake up. Sebastian hums softly as he strokes your back.

“Go back to sleep, it’s four in the morning.” He’s now sitting on the bed. He wants to stay with you and wake up in the late morning, but he was needed on set.

“Why are you awake? Go back to sleep.” You whine as you shove your face into his pillow.

“Because I have work, baby.”

“Not even a few more minutes?” You huff, eyes finally opening to meet his in the dark.

“I’m taking my few more minutes right now.” He chuckles as he rests his head on your back. The rhythm of your breathing lulling him back to sleep.

“Do you have to go? I want you to stay.”

“Yeah, they need Bucky on set.” He answers as he tries to get you back to sleep. One of his hands are on your back slowly making circles on your back to soothe you to sleep.

“Bucky doesn’t even talk that much, he just runs a lot.” A lazy smile is on your face as Sebastian gasps.

“I’m kidding, you know I love Bucky.” You hum as you snuggle deeper into the covers. Sebastian feels your breathing get deeper, meaning you were drifting off again. 

“I’m gonna get ready.” He whispers to your sleeping figure. He hesitantly gets up from the bed slowly and carefully so you don’t wake up again.

When he’s finished washing himself and putting clothes on for the day he finds you cuddling his pillow. He smiles to himself and leans down to press a kiss on the corner of your lips.

“I love you.” He whispers. He leans back up but feels a tug on his arm. He looks down to see your hand gripping on his wrist while you look up at him through heavy lids.

“Promise me you’ll be back soon?” You ask him quietly. Sebastian leans down again and pecks your lips.

“I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He tells you as you drift back to sleep.

A hint of a smile is on your lips as you dream about your future with Sebastian. Not having to sleep over at each other’s houses because you guys bought a house together. Him coming home to you and a cooked meal you’d make for him. Then after you guys would watch tv and tell each other about your days. Maybe you’d be up before him in the morning, working out on the treadmill while he caught up on some sleep. The future you envisioned with Sebastian was everything you could ever want. Not now but soon down the road, maybe those imaginations would become reality? It’s just a matter of time until Sebastian gets down one knee and makes it all come true.

iubitel ~ baby, darling

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Cabin in the Woods [18+]

Jackson Neill x Female Reader

For @storiesofsvu​’s Fall Bingo! Requested by @resparza​​! 

Summary: You and Jackson take a trip to New England that goes slightly awry.

Warnings: NSFW, nipple play, fingering, praise, slow gentle sex until the end when it gets a lil rough. Fluffy fluff & the tiniest bit of angst (so Jackson can reassure you). Trans male version here

3,350 words

Jackson made a tiny mistake with the timing. He booked your leaf-peeping getaway for mid-October, when the leaves in the city were just beginning to turn.

When you arrived at your cozy Airbnb in the mountains of Vermont, you were greeted by the awe-inspiring sight of… sticks.

“Goddammit. I forgot how geography works,” Jackson griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been in a sour mood for most of the drive up I-91 when the scenery started to look distinctly more ashen than orange halfway through Massachusetts.

“It’s like we time-traveled two weeks into the future,” you marveled at the bare tree branches rattling in a chilly breeze. Your rustic cedar-shingle cabin was surrounded by forest and at the end of a long dirt driveway. Even without the screen of leaves, you couldn’t see any neighbors.

“So much for leaf-peeping. There are no leaves.”

You picked up a bright red maple leaf from the driveway. “Found one!”

He chuckled at your enthusiasm and shook his head. “If I made our reservation a week earlier, the foliage would be, you know, in trees.”

“Found another!” you pointed at the colorful ground, grinning. “There’s another!” You picked each one up and tossed them at him like confetti.

“Alright!” he groaned, curling his elbow about your neck like a shepherd’s crook to wrangle you in. “I see you refuse to have a miserable time. Won’t even wallow with me for two seconds?”

“I think it’s pretty.” You turned in his arm and kissed him.

The tip of your nose was cold, but your lips were warm as he kissed you back and tried to look on the bright side. Just because things weren’t going to plan didn’t mean he had to relapse into his ingrained Catholic guilt.

***

Since the publication of his book, Meyerism: A New American Religion, Jackson Neill had been receiving threats from the eponymous cult that had him on edge. Not only was he afraid for himself—he wasn’t so macho to pretend otherwise—but he worried about you or his kids getting caught in the crossfire. The deeper he dug into the Meyerist Movement, the more he was convinced they were capable of anything.

This vacation was supposed to be a way to leave all that behind for a weekend, but stress clung to him like spiderwebs.

At least the weather was cooperative. Friday afternoon was clear and sunny—just the right temperature to sit out on the porch with a hot cup of cider. After unpacking, you settled down with Jackson on Adirondack chairs and listened to the sounds of nature as the fading sun slanted orange and red through the forest.

Pops of bright color still stood out amid the dull grey-brown landscape like flames—late trees that had waited for your arrival to change.

“You’re right: it is pretty,” Jackson conceded, your hand nested in his. Your fingertips were getting cold, so he held them to his lips and blew on them.

Tomorrow, you’d go on a nice hike with a beautiful view of the snow-capped Green Mountains. The trip wasn’t a total waste, Jackson thought. He tried to relax.

***

The next morning, you awoke to the pounding of rain on the roof and Jackson pacing downstairs in the living room. The entire cabin creaked and groaned with the force of the wind, and you quickly pulled on a sweater and wool socks before padding down the stairs.

Jackson was tapping at his phone, muttering under his breath, before finally tossing the useless device on the couch with a dry laugh. His apparent crankiness couldn’t have been that bad, though—he’d gotten up early to light about a hundred votive candles, filling the dim living room with flickering golden light. He must have been planning something romantic.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“No signal out here in God’s country,” Jackson rolled his eyes at a wooden cross decorating a door frame, which had not been visible in the listing photographs.

“Isn’t there Wi-Fi?”

Jackson stared at you with lips so thin they vanished into a fine line, and eyes that looked ready to shatter like exploding light bulbs at any moment. “Storm knocked out the power.”

Oh. That was why he lit candles.

“And our hike is canceled, unless you want to go out in that.” A freezing mix of rain and sleet rattled the window panes.

It was easy to let another person’s bad mood get you down, but you tried to stay positive. He’d been so tense lately, he needed support. You both needed this vacation to go well. “That’s OK. We can stay in and get cozy with the fireplace.”

“You would think so,” he gave a humorless chuckle, shaking your arm off to sulk into the open-plan kitchen. “The listing said breakfast was included, but the refrigerator is empty. We’ve got… toast.”

“Maybe we can drive into town? Find one of those quaint little bakeries.”

“Out into the cold,” he sighed. “And we don’t have internet to look a place up. No wonder the host thinks they can get away with starving us—I can’t even call to complain!”

The wall of positivity you’d constructed groaned and cracked, and the anxiety it held back began to stream through. You sank down onto the couch.

Oblivious, Jackson hunted through the charmingly rustic (and empty) cabinets with an increasingly frustrated frown. “This trip is a disaster.” The words stung as surely as if he called you a disaster.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” He turned. Your voice was so quiet he barely heard you say anything.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated so he would hear, lower lip trembling with the effort.

It took him three strides to cross the entire cabin, and he was on top of you, kneeling in front of the couch, stroking your face. “Hey, no, no… What are you talking about?” His green eyes were soft as the hay fields you’d passed yesterday as they searched yours.

“It was my idea to come here,” you sniffed.

“I know.” His head tilted, and frown lines creased his forehead. “I wanted this weekend to be perfect for you, and I can’t get anything right. I don’t know why you’re sorry. This is my fault.”

“But it’s my fault you’re miserable. I thought getting away from the city would be relaxing. I wanted some alone time with you. But you’re not having any fun. I just don’t want you to be upset…”

Something changed in his eyes.

“I… I’m not upset.” His thumb gently stroked your cheek. “I’m not upset at all—not at you. Maybe at myself. Fine, entirely at myself. This was your trip, and I fucked it up. I hate disappointing you.”

A hint of a smile crept back into your face. You covered his hand with your own and turned into it to kiss his palm. “Jax, you could never disappoint me. All I wanted out of this trip was to spend time with you. So long as we’re together, I’m happy.”

“You don’t look happy.” A flicker of a self-deprecating smirk. “Guess I ruined things by being a grouch, huh?”

Your face once again threatened a smile. “No…”

“Yes. I’m a big mean grouch. Come on, you can tell me off,” he grinned, leaning close to your neck and purring his words against your earlobe. “Punish me. Throw a handful of sleet down my shirt. Push me into a pile of wet leaves.”

“Nooo!” you squirmed beneath him, fighting a laugh as he invented tortures for himself and kissed them into your skin.

“Come on, I deserve it.” He pulled back, and a smile broke across his face like dawn to see how your eyes had brightened.

“Alright, alright. Maybe just a little sleet.”

“From now on”—he pressed his lips against your neck again and sucked lightly at the beat of your pulse point—“I promise”—he nibbled his way over your jaw—“to appreciate every moment of our vacation”—his lips ghosted against yours—“and make sure you feel good.”

You pulled him down onto the couch with you, falling back onto the cushions as his lips melted with yours and his tongue hunted for a moan inside your mouth. He found one, long, slow, and tortured as you tasted the raw heat of his apology.

“Mmm,” you hummed as if a chocolate truffle were melting on your tongue. “You want to make me feel good?”

“Yes,” he sighed back, lips moving against your cheek and his hips lazily grinding against your thigh.

“I have a few ideas about how you could do that…”

“So do I.”

His long fingers slid down your stomach and slipped beneath the waistband of your flannel pajama pants. You drew a sharp breath as his pads grazed the top of your slit, and he paused, looking to you with lust-blown eyes for permission to continue. Sucking your lower lip between your teeth, you angled your pelvis to move his fingers onto the aching bud of flesh that sent hot shivers out beneath your skin at the contact.

“Seems we’re on the same page, Dr. Neill,” you whispered, and captured his lips again.

Moaning into the kiss with a dark, gravelly rumble, Jackson let his fingers venture deeper into your folds. You weren’t drenched for him yet. Moments ago, you had been on the verge of crying, and he still had to reassure your body that it was wonderful and loved—but he was a patient man and enjoyed taking his time. Each breath and sigh was a signal he attended like a rapt student in the front row of the classroom, his own pleasure coursing through his veins as he played with your pussylips and brought out your trust and desire.

“Shirt off.”

Nodding, you peeled the hem up over your stomach, and he sat up to help you wriggle it off over your shoulders. While he was at it, he pulled off your pajama bottoms and stripped to his boxers.

“Hey, I’m cold,” you whined, pouting as goosebumps began to prickle over your naked arms.

He pulled the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and covered you both with it. “I’ll keep you warm, querida,” he purred as he lowered himself over you.

A hot flush spread over your skin. You loved when he spoke Spanish—sweetly, with the vocabulary of a 1950s telenovela, and full of diminutives the way his mother used to speak it to him as a child. A well-placed querida or cielito could send shivers up your spine. It was nothing compared to the back-arching jolt a moment later when his tongue teased your nipple.

You cried out, fingers curling sharply into his hair as if his tongue carried an electric charge, unsure if you were trying to push him off or pull him closer and make sure he never stopped. As he gently sucked and your sensitive flesh pebbled into a stiff peak beneath his circling tongue, you were leaning toward the latter. Head thrown back, you gasped out his name, begging for more.

He worshiped your chest, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a playful, attentive expression, but he didn’t give you more, no matter how you clawed at the back of his scalp. His tongue worked in gentle, leisurely circles, tracing one fully before moving on to give attention to the other.

Fingers delving back between your thighs, he found your clit swollen and throbbing. You let out a startled, sobbing moan as he stroked it, your back arching, clinging to his head almost painfully tight to brace against the overwhelming sensation. If he kept touching your two most sensitive areas at the same time, you were going to come fast.

“Easy…” he soothed, sensing your agitated level of arousal. “I want to make this last. Can you be good for me and wait?”

Whimpering, you nodded and loosened your tight grip.

“Yes, Dr. Neill.”

“Good girl.”

As he languidly serviced your nipples, he dragged his fingers lower, through your folds. It still made your skin prickle with wanting, but without direct contact with your clit, you wouldn’t come as fast.

When he found your entrance with the pad of a finger, it was slick enough to press inside without resistance. You let out a delicious, tortured moan as the long digit penetrated your tight walls, opening them a little at a time.

“Fuck, you’re so warm. So wet. That’s my good girl.” He lifted his face from your chest to kiss you in praise.

Your hips writhed to push the finger deeper as you kissed him back. He was hungry to reconnect with you—to go slowly and spend as much time as he could sharing pleasure with your naked body—but you were starving. You might explode if he didn’t fuck you.

He moaned softly as your wetness swallowed more of his finger. “Feels like you’re sucking it. Trying to pull me in. You must want more.”

“Yes… please,” you whined, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders.

A second finger stretched your entrance, and he began slowly fucking you with both.

“Oh, fuck. More! Harder,” you moaned.

“You sound so desperate,” he observed casually. “Like one of my students trying to cram for a test.” Heavy-lidded bedroom eyes betrayed his desire, but he wore a cheeky grin and did not increase his pace.

Wet sounds of flesh filled the cabin, so slow it was torture. “Please, Jackson… please let me come. Please…” you begged, but he just kept watching you studiously, worshipfully, as he fingered you slowly. Enough to keep you begging, but not enough to let you finish.

He was straddling one of your legs, and his cock pressed rock-hard into your thigh. Every so often, you would feel it twitch, usually when his fingers massaged a sensitive spot inside that made you give a satisfying noise, and he could feel your pussy gripping around him. Then he would murmur, “You’re so beautiful. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Only when you were a drooling, trembling mess that could barely string two intelligible words together did he start to actively roll his hips, rubbing his erection against your leg.

“Do you want more?”

“Y-yes,” you sobbed.

He sat back on his haunches, and you wailed as his fingers slipped from your yearning wetness, leaving you so empty. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked softly, so tenderly that “fuck” sounded like the most romantic, poetic word in the English language.

“I love you,” you replied, which wasn’t technically a yes, but made Jackson’s breath catch suddenly in his throat.

“I love you, too, mi corazón.” He tugged the elastic waistband of his boxers down over his straining cock, and, taking it in his hand, notched its thick head against your entrance. His forehead rested against yours as he demanded huskily, “Now tell me you want me inside you.”

You gasped. He was so big and blunt against your tight pussy, you almost didn’t think he could fit. But you knew he could—and you knew that was why he always warmed you up so gradually, so agonizingly, so he would never hurt you. With the crown of his cock stretching your opening, the temptation of being filled by him was so close that an unbearable ache drowned out every other thought.

“I want you, Jackson. I need you.”

A thrill rushed through you as his walls came crashing down. His hips canted forward, and a pleasurable burn filled your depths as his cock stretched you open farther than seemed possible—and you watched his mind empty in that moment. All the stress and worry were gone. Nothing was on his mind but you and how good you felt wrapped around him. Nothing existed for you but him between your legs and the ragged sound of his breathing.

As if to seamlessly replace his fingers with his cock, he set the same languid pace. At first, the difference in girth was enough to make it infinitely more intense. Relief cascaded through you as your pleasure finally began to build toward a finale, heat pooling in your lower body with every thrust. Dipping his head, Jackson found a hardened nipple and sucked it until you were babbling incoherently, hips jerking to add to the depth and friction he was giving you.

“H-harder,” you whispered, and this time, he didn’t tease you.

Your pussy coated his cock with so much cream, he knew you could take all of him. Knew you were ready to snap, and so was he—so his hips pounded faster, thighs slapping your skin, heavy balls swinging against your ass.

“Yes… yes… yes…” he breathed rhythmically, chasing his climax as your arousal coated his cock and slicked your thighs.

“More,” you rasped, though your fingernails were already digging red crescents into his back, the stretch almost too much. He needed a stress release, and you wanted to be his outlet. “Let yourself go.”

A final barrier broke inside him, and he took you so quickly, it was more like jerking himself off with your body than making love. Nothing went through his mind but seeking his own release. For a moment, Even you vanished, and there was nothing but his cock surrounded and gripped by unbelievable warmth. You cried out in pleasure at the new depths he struck with reckless abandon.

His hips stuttered. “Fuck!” he gasped, fingers gripping the couch cushion as his hot seed painted your inner walls.

He panted, going still. After a few moments of catching his breath, cock twitching the remainder of its contents into you, he wiped the sheen of sweat off his brow and opened his eyes.

“You didn’t come, did you?” He gave a sheepish sigh.

“It’s OK. Sometimes it takes me too long… It was fun anyway.”

“Stop that. Whoever gave you those excuses is a fucking idiot.”

Keeping himself sheathed inside you, he reached between your bodies to stroke your clit. You gasped out, finding your body responded quickly with waves of molten heat exploding between your thighs. You were still close to finishing.

Jackson circled his hips, using his spent, tender cock while it was still hard. Though each movement was overstimulating and made his body cry out to stop, he savored the way you responded to the pressure: your eyes squeezing closed, your breath growing shallow. He lowered his mouth to your chest again, stroking your clit faster as he flicked his tongue and rocked his hips in shallow thrusts. Your moans built, louder and more strained, back arching beneath him until finally, you came, walls crashing around him, convulsing and releasing, then clenching down again as your whole body shuddered with wave after wave of ecstasy.

Jackson’s mouth popped off the bud of your nipple as a pained moan tore from his throat. His exhausted cock suffered as your pussy involuntarily tried to milk another orgasm from it, but there was a smile on his lips. A breathy laugh.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re perfect.”

You lay together for a while under the blanket. Even after you’d recovered, your shared body heat was incentive enough not to want to get up yet. The storm outside didn’t relent, and despite the warm light of a hundred flickering candles, the air inside the cabin was chilly. Soon, you would start up the fire in the rustic stone hearth, and you could stay cozy inside all day roasting marshmallows and reading books or playing board games. After a brief trip into town for supplies, that is. Besides, you would have to brave the storm to make good on your promise to slip some ice down his shirt.

For now, Jackson’s face was buried contentedly in the curve of your neck, hot puffs of breath tickling your skin. You held him in your arms, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So,” you murmured. “Enjoying our vacation yet?”

You felt him smile. “It’s everything I needed.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

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

[amphibious-entity]

TMBS Book 1 Brain Dump

~An Embarrassingly Long Post~

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

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

Contents:

The Book Itself

The Book Itself, for real this time

The Characters

A Funny Parallel

The S.Q. Section

Lines & Scenes I Liked

Spoilers abound!

The Book Itself

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

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

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

The Book Itself, for real this time

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

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

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

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

The Characters

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

Reynie - much better in the books than in the show

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

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

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

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

Sticky - my son

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

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

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

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

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

Also her constant fidgeting is relatable lol

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

(Some of) The Adults

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

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

I like the way Rhonda and Number Two are written

Milligan always on sad boy hours 😔✊

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

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

The Institute Gang

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

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

Mr. Curtain

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

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

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

Mr. Benedict

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

I find it hard to trust Mr. Benedict, unfortunately

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Funny Parallel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The S.Q. Section

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lines & Scenes I Liked

In no particular order!

Sticky quotes Sun Tzu, The Art of War

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

Everyone being happy at the end :’)

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

Literally any scene with Sticky in it

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

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

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

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

Reynie trying to resist the Whisperer.

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

NO MORE HURTIN’ WITH CURTAIN

Milligan showing up on the island!!

Remember the white knight hhhhhh

“controle”

A Super Secret Bonus Section

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

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

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

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

[intheticklecloset]

An Easy Way to Smile (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

This one isn’t filling a request - just something I thought of that I wanted to write! It’s filled with the softest, gentlest of tickles, which I have to admit was fun to focus on for a change. I hope you enjoy this light, fluffy bonus fic! Have a great weekend! ^^

~

“Hi, Mr. Deku!” Eri said brightly as the green-haired hero entered her room on the U.A. campus. Mirio was already there, turning to grin at him as well.

“Hi, Eri!” Deku replied just as enthusiastically, kneeling to sit beside them both on the floor. It looked like they were in the middle of a puzzle. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. The teachers are really nice,” she replied.

“That’s great!”

“Eri told me she’s been practicing her smiling,” Mirio said with a smile of his own.

Deku couldn’t help but grin as well. “Oh, yeah? Can I see?”

Eri did her best to pull her cheeks up into a smile, though it still looked a little lopsided and forced. It was clear she didn’t know how to smile on command yet, but that was okay. She was making a lot of progress.

“Looking great,” Deku told her. “It makes me happy to see you happy, Eri.”

“You know…” Mirio said thoughtfully, tapping a finger on his chin in mock contemplation. “There’s a really easy way to make someone smile, Eri.”

The little girl’s eyes got big. “Really? How?”

Mirio glanced at Deku. Deku looked at Mirio.

“Oh,” he said softly.

“Just for a second?” Mirio pleaded, bobbing his head toward their younger friend.

“I…I guess so…” Deku looked at Eri, how curious and innocent her gaze was, and bit his lip. “Just…be careful, okay?”

“Of course.” Mirio beamed at him and reached forward, gently prodding his fingers into Deku’s sides. Not roughly, but with just enough pressure to send a ticklish jolt through the smaller boy’s body and make a giggle bubble up in his throat. The tiniest increment harder, and that giggle burst free. Mirio looked at Eri. “See?”

“What are you doing to Mr. Deku?” She asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

“I-I’m fihihine, Eri,” Deku sputtered, his smile more genuine than forced. “He’s n-nohohot hurting mehe.”

“I’m tickling him!” Mirio announced proudly, pulling Deku closer and moving up to his ribs, still gentle. Deku’s giggling grew a bit louder. “Tickling is when you touch somebody on certain parts of their body, and they laugh. It’s fun! It doesn’t hurt at all.”

The demonstration over, Mirio released his hold on Deku.

Eri looked between them silently for a moment. Then, in a timid voice: “Can I try?”

“Definitely!” Mirio replied for Deku, who blushed a little. Being tickled by his friends was one thing, but by a kid younger than him? Well, it wasn’t so bad. This was Eri, after all—

“Whoa, careful there.” Mirio leaned back, bracing himself up with his arms as Eri climbed into his lap and poked at his sides like he’d done to Deku just seconds before. It was obvious he hadn’t been expecting to be the target of her experimentations, but he wasn’t going to stop her, either. At first he just smiled at her, but didn’t really laugh. After a few moments he theater-whispered, “You should try a little harder.” She did, and that’s when a chuckle escaped him. “Thehehere you goho!”

Eri smiled and – seeming encouraged – dug even harder into his sides. Mirio began to giggle steadily now, his arms shaking as he struggled to keep himself upright.

“Careful, Eri,” Deku said, grinning. “The harder you tickle, the more he’ll laugh.”

That was the wrong thing to say, because in the next instant Eri drilled into his sides like she was digging into a bowl of candy, and Mirio fell backwards in defeat, laughing. “Ahahahaha! Hey, nohohohow! Eheheheheasy!”

Deku laughed, too. “Well, it was your idea, Mirio.”

“I knohohohohohow!” He started to bring his arms to his sides, but forced himself to stop. “Shehehehe’s lucky I lihihihihike beheheing tickled!”

“Do you?” Deku asked, but he wasn’t really surprised. Mirio Togata loved to laugh and make others laugh, so it seemed only natural for him to like tickling, too.

“Okay, okahahahahay,” the blonde chuckled as he gently pried Eri’s fingers from his sides. “Take it easy, there. You’ve got to let me breathe.”

Eri smiled shyly at him. “I like tickling.”

“Yeah?” Mirio grinned playfully at her. “Do you want to try it?”

“I did try it.” Eri looked confused.

“No, I mean, do want us to try tickling you?” Mirio asked. “You can totally say no. We won’t be upset with you. It’s okay.”

Eri frowned, contemplating. Finally she nodded slowly, glancing at Deku. “Just…be careful?”

“Of course I’ll be careful,” Mirio promised. “And if you want me to stop, just tell me. I’ll stop right away. Okay?”

Eri nodded again. With a glance at Deku, Mirio gently traced along her sides. The lightest touch, just to see how she’d react. When she didn’t move or giggle, he tried a little harder, poking now. Still nothing. He glanced at Deku again.

“Is something wrong with me?” Eri asked.

“No!” Deku cried immediately. “Nothing’s wrong with you. Everyone is ticklish in different places. Try another spot, Lemillion.” He used his friend’s hero name for the sake of the little girl.

“Sure. Maybe here?” Mirio moved up a little, tracing in her underarms now. This time she squeaked and brought her arms in reflexively. He beamed. “There we go! See? Just had to find the right spot, that’s all.”

Eri’s smile was wobbly at first, but eventually grew to be genuine. She even giggled once when Mirio pressed a little harder. “Stop!”

As promised, Mirio took his hands from her immediately, holding them up where she could see. “Are you okay?”

“It’s…it feels weird,” she admitted, hugging herself, unconsciously protecting the area he’d just tickled.

“It does feel kind of silly, huh?” Deku asked, smiling softly at her. “Don’t worry. It just takes some getting used to. And you might decide you don’t like to be tickled, and that’s okay, too. We’ll never do something you don’t like, Eri.”

Eri nodded at him. “I know.”

Mirio patted her hair. “Want to finish that puzzle now?”

“Um…” She hesitated, glancing at Deku shyly. “Can I tickle you, too?”

Deku blushed as Mirio laughed. “Uh-oh! We’ve created a tickle monster, haven’t we?”

“You’ve created one,” Deku replied with a nervous smile. “This was your idea.” Then, to Eri, he said, “Sure, you can tickle me. But you have to stop when I say, okay? That’s one of the rules.”

“What are the other rules?” Eri looked at Mirio.

“We’ll get to those later,” he replied. “One thing at a time. But go ahead, Eri. He said it’s okay.”

Eri crawled over to Deku and latched onto his sides, digging with purpose this time, sending him into an immediate fit of light, bubbly giggles. He let her tickle him for a bit, and at one point Mirio jumped in without any warning to show her what real tickling was like, making Deku shriek with laughter and blush all the way to his ears. But in the end, all three of them had a lot of fun with this lesson in tickling.

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ close your eyes ✦

this chapter pairing; sub!seokmin x vampire!reader

genre&warnings; vampire!reader, sub!seokmin, dacryphilia(crying kink baybeee)🥴, corruption kink kinda went brrr in this a little, lots of teasing, dirty talk, a little mutual masturbation, tiniest hint of orgasm denial, whiny needy seokmin, allusions to subspace.

he said:

notes; THE-- ☠️ I exposed my crying kink in sdpp so we out here living our best lives now 😗💖 also seokmin being a whiny baby and crying bc everything you do to him is new and just too much for him is so fuckin hot ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ HENNYWAYS, you guys!! I cant believe monster mash is almost at the end, how the hell?!? this went by so fast 😭💕 and thank you for all the love and support on each chapter! even when tumb1r seems to hate me!! Lol, and for those in SoCal, be safe! stay indoors if u can, wear a mask if u have to be outside! And stay hydrated!! I’ll see y’all tomorrow! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~2300

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - x - x - x - x - x

you take a drag, i take a sip;

i want your legendary kiss

you know i got designer taste;

and your design’s too good to waste

when the beast comes out at night;

yeah, it always wants a bite

and i try, try to resist;

but then the devil always wins.

Seokmin doesn’t believe in vampires.

He thinks Halloween is fun, but doesn’t believe in ghosts, demons or anything of the sort so he spends the night in; feet propped up on the coffee table as he watches another rerun of another vampire horror flick that he’d seen at least two times prior.

It’d been thankfully quiet for most of the night, despite the pouring rain and periodic thunder claps, but he enjoyed the way it added to the spooky atmosphere of the holiday.

Seokmin scoffs at the TV a few moments later, hand lodged deep in the bowl sitting in his lap. “Vampires aren’t even real.” He mutters.

“Says who?”

The bowl of popcorn in his lap is sent flying, and he acts quicker than he, himself, anticipates. “Who the fuck are you!? How did you get in here!?” His eyes dance over to the front door still locked and momentarily wonders if he left a window open.

He pales, realizing that it’d be impossible anyway.

Seokmin lived on the 17th floor of the building.

“Well!? Fuck---I’m---I’m gonna call the c-cops!” His shaky hands reach for his cell phone on the coffee table as you giggle.

You take a seat on his sofa, picking off a piece of discarded popcorn as you pop it into your mouth. “And tell them what? Exactly?”

“That there’s a psycho in my fuckin’ apartment and that you broke in!” Seokmin holds onto his phone a little tighter, palms clammy. He didn’t even hear the door open. You nod, pretending to think. “Oookay, so what are you gonna tell them when I do this?” You disappear in a puff of smoke and Seokmin feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Wh---”

“Boo!” You whisper from behind him, laughing when he runs roward and trips back onto the sofa. “What the fuck!?” His eyes show panic and confusion, shaky fingers letting go of the phone that was in his hand as it clatters to the floor.

“I--What are y-you? Please, don’t take my soul, it’s all I have left! I swear!”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, doubling over as he watches in fear. “Why are you laughing!?”

“I---you--you’re a funny one!” You wipe a stray tear from your eye as you catch your breath. “No, I don’t want your soul, I just want something to eat, that’s all~”

Seokmin’s eyes only read confusion when he stares back at you. “You want… food?”

“Mmhmm~”

You smile wide and Seokmin finally understands.

Ah. That kind.

He doesn’t know why he agrees. 

Maybe it’s in his kind and innocent nature to believe you won’t suck him dry like a caprisun, but he agrees.

Maybe part of it is curiosity too and maybe part of him feels bad that maybe you haven’t fed in a while, but he introduces himself after you do and he finds himself trusting you a little bit more.

He’s not totally sure why.

“So----So how does this work, do I just---” He cuts himself off as he shakily turns his head to the side. “Wait, how do I know this isn’t a Halloween prank?! Did Jeonghan put you up to this?”

“Oh! Jeonghan, you know him?”

Seokmin’s eyes almost fall out of his skull. This couldn’t be happening. “Are we talking about the same Jeonghan? Yoon Jeonghan?”

“Yeah, lanky guy with brown hair, right? Super lethargic?”

Yep. That was Jeonghan.

Seokmin nods slowly, still a little perplexed. “So, why do you know him exactly? He hasn’t replied to my texts for the last three days... You didn’t... do something to him, did you?” You sit next to Seokmin on the sofa and he flinches almost immediately; scooting over a little more to put some space in between you two.

  He wouldn’t admit it right now, but he thought you were really pretty.

“Um, no. He’s out of town and maybe just ignoring you but he lets me feed sometimes, y’know, when he is around. Maybe that’s why I was drawn here, y’know? Familiarity.” Damn.

Seokmin does feel a little bad now; for himself and for you. He bites his lip as the heat rushes to his face. “How---how do you usually, um, d-do it with Jeonghan?” The heat rushes down his body at the same time at his unintentional innuendo. “I mean, no! Not---not that, I meant how you feed! Fuck, sorry!”

Grinning, you’re quick to make your move as you push Seokmin down onto the sofa and straddle his waist.

“Wh--”

The words are caught in his throat as he watches you lean over to the coffee table to pluck out a lollipop from the bowl of candy. You unwrap it, licking it once before you bring it down towards his lips. He shakily parts them, welcoming the cherry flavoured candy into his mouth.

“You see, Seokmin,” You start, hands already roaming down his torso as he moans around the candy. “When people think of vampires, they think vampires just feed whenever, right? Just a quick bite here and they’re done.” He nods. “But that’s no fun~ So some of us like to play a little first, y’know? Get the blood rushing~”

You cup him through his sweats as he whines and he’s quick to thrust his hips up into your touch before he can even think properly.

Oh, fuck! Don’t do that! He tells himself.

A giggle from you is all it takes for him to blush even harder. “It’s okay, Seokmin. I want you to feel good too. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

“Y-yeah… O-okay…” His voice is muffled slightly from the candy still in his mouth, but he allows himself to lean into your touch. In truth, he was a little scared and a little nervous and he knew you could tell.

“Have you ever done anything… with restraints? Or things like orgasm denial?” You pluck the lollipop from his mouth; a thread of spit connecting it to his lips before you bring it to your own mouth. You quickly bite down on the hard candy, breaking it down into small pieces before swallowing. Seokmin grimaces a little.

“Um…” He’d never even heard of orgasm denial before, much less even had a thought about restraints. “...No. I--I’ve only… um… done it twice...”

You grin down at him, eyes flashing red. “Oh, Seokmin… you have so much to learn.”

You like shy Seokmin.

Maybe even a little too much.

“A-ah, no… no more t-teasing, I--ah!” He lets out a choked sob, hips thrusting up as you continue to tease the head of his cock. You move frustratingly slow and you don’t even bother to wrap your whole hand around him, instead just rubbing your palm across the tip as the tears pool up in his eyes.

“I--I don’t---mmh!” Seokmin bites his lip. He’s never felt quite like this before and the feeling was good, but unfamiliar.

“Don’t even think of cumming either~”

“But--” He chokes up again, except this time he can’t stop the tear that slides down the side of his face. You smile down at him, licking your lips.

“You’re so cute when you cry~ So pretty~” You pity him a little so you wrap your hand around his cock, working your hand up and down his shaft as he lets out a shaky breath. He’s unsure of where to put his hands, so he keeps them crossed over his chest, sweater paws keeping his clammy palms contained as he watches you.

“I--p--please, can I c-cum?” He whispers, voice small and slurred. “Nope~”

He lets out a small sob as he tries to blink away the tears.

When you feel him getting close, you pull your hand off of him; easing off of his lap and to the other side of the sofa. Seokmin watches in confusion, sitting up slightly as he watches you slide your panties down your legs. You toss the material at him, laughing when it falls onto his cock.

“We’re gonna play a little game~” He watches with an open mouth as you spread your legs; gulping when you immediately run your precum covered fingers through your wet folds. “We’re gonna touch ourselves just like this, across from each other, and if you can hold off your orgasm for, oh let’s say, 10 more minutes? Then I’ll reward you.”

“And---and if I c-can’t?”

“If you can’t… Hmm~ Then I’ll have to bring my ropes next time~” You wink at him, fingers pinching your clit as you moan out loud. The noise is enough for Seokmin’s cock to twitch and he wraps a shaky hand around himself as he watches you touch yourself from across the sofa. He uses your panties too, covering them in the precum that leaks from the head of his cock. 

It falls into relative silence as Seokmin bites into the neck of his sweater to keep in his high pitched whines and cries. He watches as you sink two fingers into your cunt and he sobs as he thrusts up into the his fist and your panties wrapped around his cock.

This is unfair, he thinks. 

“Mmh Seokmin~ I’m already imagining your cock fucking into me so deep… Ah, my fingers just aren’t enough~” Teasingly, you curl and scissor your fingers inside of your tight warmth, genuinely imagining it’s Seokmin instead. He releases the sweater material from between his teeth, drool dripping from his lips and eyes pooling with tears ready to spill.

“Please, I, hic, I--I can’t h-hold off, hic, I need t-to, hah, c--cum… I--I can’t...”

In a flash, the air is knocked out of Seokmin’s lungs as his back hits the sofa and he’s staring up at the ceiling. His sticky fingers find purchase in the material of his sweater again as you crawl back into his lap. You pry off the soaking panties covering his cock, tossing them to the coffee table as he groans.

You wrap a hand around his leaking cock, moving your hand up and down a few times before you use your thumb and index finger to circle the base as you squeeze hard. “Just a whiny baby boy crying and begging to cum. So cute~”

He squirms underneath you as he tries to get you to do something but you hold steady, fingertips wrapped around the base of his cock to keep him from cumming. “Now now, Seokmin. I’ll let you cum. But you have to be patient~ If you cum without my permission, I’ll make you wait even longer~”

Seokmin nods feverishly, uncaring of what came after. You still hadn’t fed from him too and he could’ve cared less about that.

You let go of his cock as he releases a shaky breath and he watches through foggy eyes as you raise your body until you’re hovering just above his cock. You use your hand to position him right at your entrance and Seokmin lets out a sharp whine when you drop yourself down onto his cock in one fluid motion.

“A-ah, fuh--fuck!”

Your pussy is warm, wet and tight and Seokmin is really fighting a losing battle at this point.

He cries quietly, hips canting up to meet you bouncing in his lap.

“Mmh~ Seokminnie crying making me so fuckin’ wet~ Ah~ I’m gonna cum soon too~”

His head is fuzzy and every new sensation makes his body react in a way he never knew it could. The tears blur his vision but he can already feel his cock twitching and body tensing up slightly; a telltale sign that he was already close.

“I, hic, please…” He slurs out, already too far gone. His body felt weightless; a slight floating feeling overcoming him as he continued to fuck up into you. 

Your eyes flash crimson and you pry one of his arms away from his clothed chest, pushing the sleeve back as you kiss his wrist.

“Okay Seokmin~ I want you to cum, baby boy. Let me feel your cock throbbing and filling me up with your warm cum~”

Seokmin could die and be happy, thank you’s rolling off of his tongue through choked cries as he finally lets himself go.

The pleasure washes over him after a few more swivels of your hips and he barely even registers the fact you’ve already sunk your fangs into his wrist, too lost in his own bliss. 

You moan against his skin, drinking up just enough to get him lightheaded before you’re lapping up the wound.

Seokmin tasted extra sweet.

Licking your lips, you release his arm as it falls limp next to his body and you immediately bring your fingers down to your clit, rubbing harsh and quick circles on the nub to get yourself to cum.

“Oh, god, Seokmin!” You cry; walls fluttering around Seokmin’s overly sensitive cock as he whines and squirms underneath you.

You ride out your high, hips coming to a stop as you catch your breath above him. Seokmin, on the other hand, feels a little delirious and warm; fingertips twitching at his sides. “Ngh…” He whimpers, unable to even speak with how exhausted he felt.

You lift your hips, cum sliding down Seokmin’s cock as he groans in oversensitivity. “Ah~ Look at how much cum you spilled in me, Seokminnie~” His bleary eyes watch as you let the cum slide out of your pussy and right over his cock and he almost, almost hates the way his cock twitches as the sight.

Sitting back on his thighs, you watch him bask in his post-orgasm glow; smacking your lips as you reach for another lollipop from the coffee table. “So~ How did you like it?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice when you visibly see his cock twitch.

His throat feels dry, that’s all he knows. 

Seokmin’s clammy palms slide back into his sweater paws, pressed tight against his chest again as he gently leans up. You can’t help but smirk at his appearance; puffy red eyes from crying and cheeks stained with drying tears with his cock still curving up to his abdomen covered in his own cum.

“I---s--so what’re you g-gonna teach m-me next…?”