#DOOM DAB

[your-fave-isdoomedbythenarrative]

the Knight Commander from Terrible Writing Advice

The Knight Commander from Terrible Writing Advice is doomed by the narrative and trying to escape.

[dognonsense]

man three dabs deep i culd not get myself to read in order and id read one sentence and get so confused and start going wait what

[fundeadasylum]

me: i’m fine, i’m a mature adult, i can handle this thing

narrator: they could not, in fact, handle the thing and spent 48 hours in a spiral of depression triggered by the thing

[sgojoenthusiast]

[talk]

cw: smut, fem reader, ‘baby’, orgasm denial.

What Gojo loves more than anything else is when you talk to him. Of course, he loves to hear your broken moans and soft cries when he shatters your stability and all means of functioning as a proper human being - yet what does that even mean if he can’t hear you tell him how good he’s making you feel?

Gojo will be driving himself into you relentlessly, nothing but the noises of skin against skin and your garbled words fading into stuttered moans sounding throughout the room when he suddenly asks you a question he knows that you won’t be able to answer.

“That feel good, baby?” His entire weight is pressed into your back as he breathes softly into your ear. It’s difficult to even think when his hips are moving at an unwavering and cruel pace behind you and his weight crushes each thought to its impending doom until there’s nothing in your head but the feeling of his cock pressing against that perfect spot inside of you.

Your lips part to answer and you try your best to find your voice to answer him. After all, you know what’s to come if you don’t - and with how close you are to finishing, you need to answer him and you need him to keep going until he leaves you with that snap in your cunt that sent you reeling and relishing in the intense, pleasurable feel. A splintered croak was all that left from your mouth as you tore yourself apart trying to find an answer.

Mentally, you kicked and scolded yourself. Why was it so hard to form even a ‘yes’? Why were you struggling so much to form so much as a syllable? Why was your boyfriend so torturous in the way he touched and played with you?

Soon enough, Satoru had ceased his unrelenting thrusts inside of you - earning a defeated cry fall from your lips. You took the opportunity to search for your breath and gain even a slight bit of basic comprehension back before you had been fucked dumb by him for good.

“I’m sorry, I thought I asked you a question, baby?”

Without a moment of realisation, you were flipped on your back and staring up into his eyes through hazed lids. Struggling to keep your head up and your eyes open, you attempted to find the words to answer one more time.

Gojo simply cooed at you mockingly, dabbing at the fresh tears from your eyes and the drool on your lips, his thumb lingering on the plump of your bottom lip. “Let me ask you one more time. Am I making you feel good, sweetheart?”

All you could do was nod up at him with closed eyes as a sigh that blended into a whimper fell from your tortured lips.

You could still feel the hardness of his cock pressing into you and practically throbbing inside of you, which alerted you to the fact that he was struggling to hold himself back just as much as you were. He wanted to move just as much if not even more than you did.

Fuck was he struggling to restrain himself, but somebody had to teach you to behave.

The hand that played with your lip slowly moved its way down to your chin as he took it into a firm grasp that had you biting your lip and pressing your legs together. You opened your eyes and the sight that was before you was breathtaking.

Gojo’s hair was dishevelled and messy, clinging to the glistening sweat on his forehead. His eyes, in contrast to the glow on his face and the typical brightness that would commonly radiate from them, had dimmed. He was looking at you with a seriousness on his face that you failed to see at any other time. Not even the severity of his job had such a look adorn his face. And whilst it would make his enemies cower in fear and retreat to a faraway corner - it only had your heart racing more out of lust and attraction rather than terror.

Seemingly, that look on his face alone was enough to knock some sense into you. “What have I told you about manners, baby? Use your words, and don’t make me answer again.”

Your breathing had become erratic and your heart was simply fighting to break free from its confines in your chest. Though your body’s reaction was hardly one out of panic as anyone else may think. You loved to see the fun, light side of your boyfriend who cherished you and treated you with nothing short of love, care and respect. The side that made you laugh and your heart swell. Yet, there was something about this side of him that could turn you on in a flash. The side of him that came out the minute you spread your legs, inviting him to let the restraints he had placed on himself go and take out all frustration on your poor pussy. This side of him made even a most respectable woman such as yourself want to give in to anything he asked from you.

“Yes, Satoru. You make me feel so good, please keep going. I need you to make me come, please.” You practically begged, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes and falling onto the pillows below you. You pleaded with him until that familiar smirk grew on the corner of his lips that let you know he wasn’t quite finished with you yet.

Before you could process his movements, your legs were thrown over his shoulders, and once again he was thrusting into you at a harsh pace. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging on the white strands as your head was thrown back into the pillow from the suddenness of it all.

“Keep talking to me, baby. Don’t you dare stop.”

Although, from the way he was able to make your brain forget everything you’ve known since you were born into this world, you knew this would be yet another long night.

a/n: guys icl this is so bad but i felt like i had to post something and i like this concept lol. literally forgot all vocab tho whilst writing it or else it would be a lot longer. i hope you enjoyed anyway lol

[queenendless]

💗 Cafe Time 💗

A/n: Imma count this as an April Fool's prank cause it's kinda nonsense.

AU centric where JJK cast here are chibis, as is everyone else in this world, and you are the sole normal sized human there.

Cute fluffy filled crack nonsense that is short as hell and cause I've wanted to write chibi stuff for a long time.

Itafushi, NobaMaki, and HaiNana crumbs here and there but SatoSugu x GN!Reader in the end.

DON'T REPOST, PLAGARIZE, COPY, EDIT, TRANSLATE AND/OR STEAL MY FANFIC CONTENT. IF YOU ENJOY MY CONTENT THEN REBLOG, LIKE, COMMENT & FOLLOW PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

AND HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S! 💌

The tale of a regular sized normie getting teleported to a Japan where everyone but themselves is chibi sized.

Their resisting negation to cursed energy that in the strongest in the country leads to your immediate discovery and recruitment into a place to stay as well as work by a burly mid aged bearded man with shades.

Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College Cafe.

Your newfound workplace and home. Where you met some regulars that quickly became your favorites.

“L/n-san~!” Dear Yuji lifted the cookie atop him, smothered in whipped cream with a bright smile and a wave reserved for you. “Eat me~! Just kidding~!”

Your pinky finger gently ruffled his salmon haired head. “Your teasing is very much warranted, you precious boi.”

In the parfait cup filled with ice cream, whipped cream and berries, a storm cloud raged atop Megumi's brooding head. “Get me outta here or I will shatter this glass.”

Yuji's face became pale with doom, hissing at you conspiratory. “He ain't kidding.”

You reached down and pulled out said grumpy Megumi who took the shinigami dog shaped candy, bashfully thanked you, and shyly pecked you on the cheek, compelling you to smooch him right on the nose. “Favorite tsundere here.”

You dropped him down on table level for Yuji to smother his boi in a good old bear hug; his infectious smile causing his emo bae to blush and ease into it and smile back.

“Maki-san~! Nibble on me~!” Nobara sung suggested cozied smack dabbed in her macaron.

“You idiot. Why did you have to admit that out loud? Here of all places?” Maki murmured, bashfully blushing, looking away amiss her red bean filled pancake sandwich.

“Maki-san! I love you~!” An unashamed Nobara rushed outta her macaron to tackle Maki into a bean pasted draped hug.

“Here.” You lifted off their pancake cover before handing a decent sized handkerchief to the girls as you passed by, earning winks of thanks from the pair before their stained faces grew messier as they commended a make out session under said hankie.

“Konbu! Tsuna Tsuna! Mentaiko!” The orange topped Toge waves eagerly at you from his perched spot on his own cupcake.

“I see you my boi and I've missed you too.” Your offered finger was taken by the rice ball speaking boi, swinging him to land before Panda lounging in the middle of a smore treat.

“Give me a hand, little buddy, tall buddy.”

“Takana!” Toge's mini hand and your long finger were more than enough to pull the fuzzy cursed doll out, though the chocolate sauce and marshmallows stuck to his fur.

You magically pulled out a wet rag to clean him up, humming at the now pristine baby. “My gift to you, my precious Panda.”

“L/n-san! Lift off please and thank you~!”

You picked up Yu's back collar to place him atop his fruit sandwich for him to slide down the creamy path, bumping right into Nanami. “Sandwich slide, hazah~!”

“Why must you condone this nonsense?” Kento commented through a mouthful of his subway sandwich, lightly bopping Haibara on his noggin as an attempted scolding.

“He's your partner. You tell me.” Your sassiness made the stern Nanami purse his lips at you in defiance but had Haibara chortling to his further annoyance, firmly tugging on his cheeks to gargle those noises, only amusing his partner more, finally doing here and now to kiss him just to keep him quiet.

Haibara's face glowed all smitten like. “Aw I love you too – !”

“Hush you and eat.” Nanami couldn't suppress a grin as he ate his subway with his favorite boi.

“Job well done, fellow yaoi buddy.” Shoko snorted at what she just saw, lounging in her lemon tea sponge cake, raising her small palm for you to give a carefully slow high five indeed.

“Keep your hands to yourself, assassin.” Riko narrowed dagger eyes at the scarred man across the room, cherry atop her head as she floated in a literal ice cream soda float.

“Riko-sama, be cautious, now.” Misato cautioned her, doing her best to stay blended within her fruity spread.

“I think he's retired from that lifestyle now.” You assured the pair, settling their nerves down when you handed them a plush doll with two eyes, eight legs and horns for them to cuddle and ride on.

“Suguru~ They're so pretty~!” Satoru plopped red bean paste sweetness into his mouth as he watched you move to and fro throughout the cafe.

Suguru munched on the cherry that sat atop with him on the cupcake. “Despite the major height difference, I will admit they look docile.”

“In that case – !” Gojo got down on one knee. “Marry us please~!”

Geto nearly choked. “Toru, we're still dating!”

Gojo got up to kiss him fully on the lips. “Well, we've practically been wedded since day one so …”

Geto's eyes crinkled with tender mirth, humming as he kissed back. “Can't argue with that logic.”

Grabbing his hand, the albino of the two floated them both on up high to reach you. “Plus, a poly ship is very sexy~”

The fact that the iconic strongest pair landed on either shoulder to kiss you simultaneously on your cheeks touched your heart.

“Aw, I – MMPH!”

The super human chibi that is Toji threw his bagel like a Frisbee disk right into your mouth. “Oi. You. This donut ain't cuttin’ it for me. Get me some beer, huh?”

“Dad!” Megumi snapped on your behalf.

“He is a beast.” Yuji anxiously sweated at the alarmingly impressive feat.

“I wanna duel him even more now.” Maki, a fellow non-cursed fighter, got fired up after peaking outside to witness his simple yet stellar stunt.

“Eh!? We already called dibs!” Gojo flared up, steam coming outta his ears.

“Hands off, monkey.” Geto emanated pure unfiltered hatred for the brute killer.

All three men had their eyes cast in shadow as literal sparks of agitation flew between them, ruining the cozy vibe of the cafe.

Able to chew and swallow that bagel up, you could speak again. “Knock yourself out, you beast.” Whisking out a jug of booze outta the blue, you knew the superhuman killer could take it, his smug self already chugging it down with one hand.

“Physically gifted,” Yuji and Maki breathed out in amazement.

“As I was gonna say,” you cupped your hands out for GoGe to sit on, your e/c eyes sparkling down at them, “Of course I'll marry you two. Size and all.”

A giggling Satoru and an amused Suguru are over the moon with your acceptance, bringing them close enough for them to smooch your lips in unison.

However later, you got an earful of “Goddamn” from your chibi sized boss at giving someone alcohol at his fine establishment.

But, you could tolerate it.

All these cuties make it all worth it.

Especially your new beaus.

[sebsbarnes]

apologizes || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: you voice your concerns about tangerine's profession, to which he doesn't take kindly

warnings: mentions of injury, swearing, drinking, nothing bad at all

word count: 1.5k+ ; angst(?), comfort(?)

tangerine masterlist

"c'mon c'mon," you harshly whispered gesturing them inside.

tangerine and lemon bustled inside, accidently bumping into your shoulder, breathing out heavily holding themselves against the beige wall.

"we owe you big time," lemon huffed sliding off his stained coat and folding it haphazardly on his arm.

"it's fine. you both know i don't mind."

"well, that can be the problem, love. it's not exactly safe," tangerine tutted wiping blood off his forehead with his palm.

"then i'll pay the price eventually but until then i don't care as long as you two are safe," you peered out the door before bolting it and herding them to the living room.

about twenty minutes ago you got a text from lemon saying him and tangerine were on a job nearby that went bad and they needed somewhere to hide. it was supposed to be a simple in-and-out at a software company but unfortunately, they were ambushed and they were running through the city trying to lose the men trailing behind them. lemon texted that they were close enough to make it to your house while also making sure the men would be gone before they got there. you didn't even hesitate when you texted lemon to come straight here. you wandered back into the living room with two glasses of water in hand and a bottle of whiskey tucked under your arm. tangerine leaned over to the bottle and winced in pain which he tried to hide, horribly.

"you're hurt," you stated.

"it's nothing, just a scratch," he waved off opting to chug the whiskey. when he lifted his arm you noticed the large blood patch on his shirt.

"you're bleeding you idiot. get up," you demanded giving him a knowing look.

tangerine grumbled under his breath like a child but still followed you to the bathroom. he sat down on the sink and you pulled out the first aid kit. he unbuttoned his shirt tossing it to the side. desperately you tried stopping the heat flooding your face. tangerine leaned back on the mirror to expose his bare torso more. you refused to look him in the eyes while he was half-naked in front of you, all you could do was chew at your lip until you tasted metallic. tangerine dabbed hydrogen peroxide on the wound while you disinfected a small needle.

"why do you do it," you asked softly.

"what this job? makes good money. only thing i'm good at," tangerine said looking down his nose at you cleaning the area below his chest.

you sighed, "well i'm sure there's other things you are good at tangerine. besides, you can make good money at a different job."

"i like what i do. why would i leave it?"

"it's not safe," briefly looking up at him, "aren't you afraid at all. like tonight, things could have gone differently."

this is something you've been thinking a lot lately. there's been an influx in how often the twins get sent on, more than usual, dangerous jobs. today they were lucky with only minor injuries but recently they've sustained quite serious injuries, some even resulting in them going to emergency rooms. you couldn't help the feeling of impending doom each time they told you they were setting off somewhere new. since bolivia and the bullet train in tokyo, the twins have piqued many international eyes for their services. of course, you were proud of them, this is what they wanted but it didn't stop your reservations about their career.

tangerine's tone shifted to irritation and his eyebrows pulled together, "obviously i know the risk. if i had an issue with it i couldn't be in this line of work now would i?"

you shrugged, "i don't know. it just seems like sometimes it's not worth it."

"i don't think lemon and i really asked for your opinion, love. besides, can you really talk when you're associated with two killers?"

before your face was flushed due to tangerine's exposed torso, now your face was flushed in anger. your nostrils were flared out and your once gentle hand stitching him together was now tugging roughly at the skin. you weren't sure exactly what to say to tangerine. yes, you helped the twins out when they needed it because you were their friend. what, were you supposed to let them bleed out every night or let them walk miles and miles to their desired location? no. and the fact tangerine was trying to paint you as a hypocrite made your blood boil. yes you were associated but you never knew any important info besides where they are in the world, they kept everything a secret from you for safety reasons and because it's confidential.

you let out a small laugh in disbelief, "personally, i think there is actually a big difference between ending a person's life and helping those injured. but you didn't ask for my fucking opinion did you?"

the last stitch was shoved roughly into his skin. you shoved a small gauze pad and tape onto his thigh before ripping the door open and leaving the bathroom fuming. you stalked down the hallway and into the living room where you snatched the bottle of whiskey off the table and exited the front door. lemon watched with confusion from the moment you left the bathroom to the moment you left the house. he sighed standing up from the couch and headed towards the bathroom where tangerine was still on the sink leaning back onto the mirror with closed eyes.

"i don't want to hear it," tangerine grumbled.

"well you're gunna fuckin' hear it you idiot. what did you do?"

"i made her mad. said i didn't need her opinion on how dangerous the job is and that we should get new ones," he said peering over at lemon who was stood against the frame of the door with a disapproving look.

"sometimes you really are dense aren't ya?" lemon said matter-of-factly.

tangerine sighed sitting up before covering the stitches, "i'm just tired."

"so that gives you an excuse to be a dickhead?" lemon said pointedly.

all tangerine could do was shake his head.

"you realize not once has she ever cast judgment on us right? the day she found out what we did she could've turned us in yanno? she's there for us all the time, when we need help, when we need a place to stay, when we need money, and on top of all that she's a good friend but you're too arrogant to acknowledge any of it. also, maybe if you opened your fuckin' eyes you'd notice that she's practically in love with your stupid ass," lemon ranted, wacking tangerine on the head.

"i'm a shit person aren't i?" tangerine said aloud but he already knew the answer.

tangerine exhaled heavily, ripping at the gauze and covering his wound. lemon had left the bathroom after his rhetorical question leaving tangerine to his thoughts. he knew he was in the wrong. he took his frustration out at the one person who never deserved it. tangerine walked to the closet in your house where left spare clothes for the twins. pulling on a grey sweater and headed to the front door. you were sitting on the stone steps leading up to the door, arms wrapped tightly around you, the bottle of whiskey now abandoned by your side. tangerine replaced the bottle with himself, eyes shifting to your unmoving figure. he took a swig out of the bottle, the liquor burning at his throat.

"something i've been learning recently," tangerine cleared his throat, "is that i'm a prick a lot of the time."

you hummed and grabbed the bottle that was dangling in his left hand.

"i shouldn't have spoken to you like that darlin'."

"oh you think so?" you joked in agitation.

tangerine scrunched his nose, "look i- i really am sorry. i had no right to speak to you like that especially when you were sat there stitching me up. i know i can be a dick but that doesn't make it okay to be a dick to the one person who has always been there for me. for everything you have done, i don't think i'd ever be able to repay you in this lifetime, but i'll try my best."

in a poor attempt you tried hiding the glossiness of your eyes looking at tangerine. you placed your hand on his knee giving it a light squeeze, "it's okay."

there was moments of silence between you two. the air was slightly chilly, the sky now a midnight blue with flecks of light, the occasional car drove past the house, the people in the front seats singing gleefully to the radio, there was an aroma dancing it's way through the doorframe of your house, lemon must be cooking dinner, all the while your hand continues to bring a sense of comfort to tangerine.

"i am afraid," tangerine finally whispered almost as if it wasn't meant to leave his mouth, a true confession to the question from earlier.

"you know no matter what i am here for you, no matter how much of a dickhead you can be," you joked softly at the end.

tangerine cracked the tiniest of smiles and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in to lean on him. the thick sweater he wore bringing you comfort against the chill of the night. your fingertips dancing across his knee. it all felt right. and it felt good knowing tangerine was slowly breaking down his walls.

[assortedgoods123]

Severus Snape x chatty!reader Soulmate AU

Writers block with stardew valley stuff so im trying something totally different to shake the cobwebs loose

do ppl still need to say they dont fuck with jkr or is it a given at this point? (genuine question)

*meet-cute!!!*

*this reader has titties and gender neutral pronouns*

Walking quickly, your eyes are glued to your phone as you round the corner of a street in London. You are already running late for a meeting but you absolutely refuse to deal with your coworker's bullshit without something caffeinated in your hands.

Just as you are about to look up and find the entrance to the cafe you frequent, you slam into something. You squeak out a nervous gasp when you realize it wasn't a lamp post, but a person.

"Ohmygosh I am so so so sorry!" You say, frantically digging in your bag for your horde of cocktail napkins. Your eyes flit nervously over the stranger, realizing you're both covered in his drink order. Dabbing at his torso with your little napkins, his silence makes you about a thousand times more anxious.

"I really am so so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, it's totally my fault." You stammer out, glancing at up at his face while you pat pat pat his chest with your napkins.

Your poor little heart, already beating like a hummingbird in your chest, leaps into your throat at the sight of the hottest fucking guy you've ever seen in your life. The kind of hottie you would chase down the street to throw yourself at. You've done very embarrassing things to get a chance to know people who are far less good-looking than this man in front of you now. And because you were too preoccupied with your phone, you're almost certain you won't be walking away with his number.

And he's frozen, staring at you with a weird look on his face. Definitely the worst first impression you could have possibly made.

Never one for fits of grace, you frown and say, "People as attractive as you should come with an escape lever." You throw the soggy napkins in the trash nearby and add, "I hate embarrassing myself in front of hot people."

Still not getting a response, you turn and look up at him. "You gonna say anything handsome?"

-

Severus Snape has never been rendered this speechless in his entire life.

The day the courts ruled him not guilty enough for Azkaban was certainly shocking, but even that paled in comparison to what he was experiencing now.

He was leaving his favorite coffee shop when he bumped into a muggle. People are clumsy, it happens. But then, instead of apologizing and running away from the tall scary man, they started talking to him. The sweetest, softest voice Severus had ever heard, telling him he's... hot. Attractive. Handsome.

Every single time anyone has ever shown interest in him in public, Severus has immediately and viciously shut them down. Far better to come across as an asshole upfront than to be humiliated and heartbroken later.

But now, he had this sweet little muggle running their warm hands all over his chest in a matter of seconds. Before he could snarl at them to back off, he looked down and, well.

What was already a very low-cut top was now soaked with tea, becoming slightly translucent. Half of Severus was now laser-focused on the stretch of the damp fabric over your tits, while the other half was screaming at him to get a hold of himself.

You asked him a question, he realizes. Jerking his head around to face you properly, he blurts out, "Huh?"

Oh he's doomed, he thinks.

-

You gasp and grab his arm, "Oh no I'm already so late I need to go right now but listen, here's a bit of money to buy yourself a new drink it's the least I can do I'm so so sorry for running into you and dashing away but I really am late it was nice to meet you bye!"

Hustling away, you sigh and hope you run into him again. Such a shame you couldn't stay and flirt longer. Checking your watch, you growl and break into a jog. Fuck this day, you think.

-

"Fuck this day" Severus mutters, before heading down an alley to dissipate home. Just like him to meet someone who actually thinks he's attractive only for them to be so late they have to literally run.

It was only a fraction of a moment, but Severus knows it'll be the thing keeping him from falling down a pit of despair some nights.

Hating himself as he does it, he sniffs the money you handed him. It smells like your perfume. He sets it aside on his dresser.

Pathetic virgin, he thinks.

Later that night, however, he wakes with a gasp. "Idiot idiot idiot!" He snarls, yanking the covers away from himself. "You were so focused on them you forgot to check your soul mark" He glowers at himself in the mirror before lifting his tongue. There, on the underside, is a swirl unique to him and his soulmate.

His heart skips a beat when he sees it glitter in the dingy bathroom lighting. It's activated. And the only people he spoke to yesterday were you and the exhausted-looking barista.

He thinks of the look on your face when you saw him, how you pouted so cutely when you threw the napkins away. The way your clothes stretched over your body.

I've gone mad, he thinks, as he throws on some clothes and dissipates to an alley in London.

-

I am literally insane, you think.

You've been sitting on a bench outside the coffee shop you almost went in yesterday for about half an hour now. It's too early for anyone else to be up and about yet, it's about 3 in the morning. You woke up last night realizing you didn't check your soul mark after meeting that stupidly hot guy. Sure enough, it was activated.

You twist your fingers anxiously, hoping and hoping that he will show up eventually. You'll be so sad if it's not him.

Suddenly, you hear an odd noise in a nearby alley. Nervously, you run your hands along your pepper spray.

Turning your head to look, you see him. Disheveled and breathing heavy, he locks eyes with you and storms over.

Feeling slightly lightheaded, you rush towards him and lift your tongue up so he can see. Tears of happiness and overwhelm run down your face when he nods and shows you his activated mark.

"Can I...?" You open your arms, asking for a hug.

Hesitating, he steps into your embrace, standing like a stiff board while you sniffle into his shirt and squeeze him tight.

You have a good feeling about this.

(not sure how to end it so ill call it here 🤗)

[dilatorywriting]

Opposites

Vil Schoenheit x OC Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: What do you get when a cross a vampire and a vampire hunter? Arguments about color coordination, apparently.

[OC Archive]

🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Sugggestive Content

Opposites attract they say.

Which Saya had never really understood, because the general population that fell into that ‘opposites’ category tended to drive her absolutely up a wall.

And then the universe had to go and spit in her face by sending her not one, but two very opposite precious people. Ro’s contrasting traits were obvious. Sweet to her spicy, soft to her sharp. Doting, and kind, and wide eyed. Vil’s shtick was a bit trickier, because at the core of them they were the same. Or at least, similar enough that the model had long since learned to pick apart every bit of her with the familiarity of someone staring into a mirror. But there were other things.

‘Did you remember to pick up the makeup kits I had sent to Sam’s for you?’

Saya sighed and rolled her eyes and typed out an irritated. ‘Yes. Of course.’

‘You should have had all this on hand already. It’s practically the basics.’

‘Okay.’

‘Don’t pull that tone with me.’

‘We’re messaging. There is no ‘tone.’’

‘Oh? Try that again then.’

For fucks’ sake. She knew he was stressing over the Halloween event, and ensuring that he and all of his little spudlings looked positively perfect for their role in it all. But still. She was half debating smearing mud across her face and showing up smelling like literal death just to give all his pissy fretting the middle finger. But at the same time, this was important to him. And ugh. Bleck. She was just going to have to tolerate his fussing. As usual.

‘Do you want me to wear the black or the grey boots?’ she sent back instead—an olive branch.

And immediately he was flooding her phone with all sorts of color scheme nonsense and rambles about the thematic importance of shading. Which. Fine. Better than the slippery slope she’d been heading towards by a long shot.  

But, ahh. They really couldn’t be more different sometimes.

Saya had managed to wrangle her way into the complicated, custom-Schoenheit-designed ensemble and was halfway through lining her lash line with heavy, dark charcoal when she heard some incredibly unsubtle footsteps sneaking along down the hallway towards the bathroom. She watched a head of styled, red, curls bob in and out of the corner of the mirror. Then, a soft curse when he whacked his knee against the tile. She puckered her lips like Vil had taught her and ignored the creeping creature in the corner.

“Boo!” Ro chirped, hands curled into claws as he popped over the side of the counter.

Saya blinked past his head, unbothered and focused, and simply continued leaning close to the mirror to smudge heavy, black eyeshadow along her lids.

The redhead pouted and leaned forward on his tiptoes, the witch hat bobbing on his head as he stretched.

“Sai-chan. I said—”

She reached out, fast as a snake, and snatched his arm. And Ro shrieked.

“Boo,” she grinned, and he wailed in indignation.

“No fair!”

“Not my fault your scare game is weak,” she taunted. “Besides, who in their right mind would be afraid of you when look like the thumbnail off some teeny-bop lofi video?”

“That’s why I’m playing the victim!” Ro chirped, bouncing back as easily as he always did under her prodding. The layers of dark, plum skirts twirled at his knees above a set of garishly striped stockings. He looked far more Lolita Magical Girl than Creepy, Kooky Witch, but it fit him well enough either way. “I thought you were too, Saya-chan. But you look intense.”

She dabbed a bit at the raccoon-smears around her eyes.

“Different kinds of victims, I guess,” she shrugged. “You’re the cute one people feel bad for, I’m the one people see and go ‘oh shit, if he can get her, I’m doomed.’” It was proper Horror Movie logic, and Saya couldn’t fault the third years for coming up with such a devious little idea. Vil had been particularly proud of her new role when he’d presented it at their pitch meeting.

“S’too bad we don’t match anymore,” Ro hummed, propping himself up on the ledge of the counter to swing his feet. “Your new costume is cool too, though!”

It really was. It looked like something ripped right off a movie set. All aged, dusty leather and intricate straps tucked beneath a fitted overcoat that felt as expensive as it looked. And knowing who had procured it for her, Saya wouldn’t be too surprised if that was actually the case.

She snapped the little compact case closed and turned on Ro with a sharp smirk.

“Ready to go make some stupid influencers shit themselves?”

He nodded, a touch too enthusiastic. “I’ll see you later, Saya-chan! After we’ve wiped all of them out.”

“…not literally,” she reminded him with a pointed glare. “Make sure your dragon remembers that, yes?”

“Yes, yes. You’ve told me, Saya-chan. He won’t actually eat anyone. That’s what I’m for!”

“Right,” Saya nodded, wiping a bit of stray gold, dust off his collar and straightening out the pointed hat atop his head. “Let’s go ruin some magicam photos.”

.

.

They really couldn’t have looked more intentionally contrasting. Vil, with the sharp, crisp lines painted around his eyes and Saya all smudged soot and grime. A sweeping, purple and gold-embroidered ensemble next to a dark, muddied beige with no discernible shimmer to speak of. Pomp versus practical. Seductive, free-spirited elegance to militaristic formality. His hair curling loose at his collarbones and hers pinned into a tight bun to give the squibs more space to splatter.  

“No way these guys are actual vampires,” one of the Magicam Monsters spluttered, taking a harried step back.

Which was Saya’s cue to step forward—silver cross at her throat and thick, woolen overcoat swirling at her knees.

“I see you’ve finally come out of hiding, beast,” she droned, lifting the prop blade from her belt to point at the space over his heart. She could hear the tourists around her chittering and whispering into their hands. If this was all part of the show. If this was real. If it was a joke. If it was— “To think you’d stoop so low as to use a place like this for your hunting grounds. I’ll strike you down where you stand.”

Vil swooped forward so suddenly it managed to genuinely startle her. And his hand snapped up to wrap around her wrist so tight it was nearly painful. The silver stake fell to the ground with a clatter and he dug his fingers into her hair—yanking her head back sharp and harsh so her neck was on full display. Saya hissed between her teeth and glared at him sourly, fighting the urge to snap out and remind him that this wasn’t real, and she would very much like to keep her limbs and dignity intact, thank you very much.

But then he was grinning down at her in a way that had her stomach dropping—his fangs peeking over his painted lips and eyes going lidded and dark. She heard one of the stupid influencers gasp and rattle out a panicked ‘should we do something?!’

“Oh, sweet thing,” he cooed, trailing a painted nail along her jawline. “I was never hiding.”

And then he leaned forward and bit her. Saya gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulders because ow! What the hell, man! He wasn’t supposed to ­actually—

The squib went off beneath her collar and thick, sticky, crimson blood began to seep its way down her neck and drip to the floor. Vil’s adam’s apple bobbed against her throat as he swallowed and Saya shivered.

The hoard of rabid influencers took off in a terrified frenzy—screaming, and shoving, and fighting their way out of the Mirror Chamber. Soon enough, the room was empty once more except for the two of them, and Saya lifted a hand to awkwardly pat against his back.

“You can—” she gulped when he shifted to bite at her collarbone. “You can stop now. They left.”

“Oh?” he hummed against her blood-splattered skin. “But what sort of Vampire Lord would I be if I didn’t make an example of the little hunter who thought herself clever enough to trap me?”

“Vil—”

“You wore the rosemary perfume.”

She blinked, thrown. “Of course I did. You said I needed to stay ‘on theme.’”

“But I didn’t tell you to,” he crooned, licking a long stripe up her throat and collecting the stray droplets of fake blood as he went. “You did that on your own.”

Saya frowned, determined to be stubbornly put out despite the fangs playing at her skin. “You said—”

“Sometimes I wonder exactly why it is I adore you so much,” he sighed, and she froze, like a deer in the headlights. Or like a poor, little human trapped between the teeth of a monster. “And then I remember that maybe we aren’t quite so different after all.”

He pulled back with a grin that was equal parts smug and soft. He reached up and rubbed at one of the red stains seeping into her skin.

“I’ll get you a cloth for that. We should get you cleaned up before the next group arrives.”

“…R-Right,” she spluttered. Of course. Yes. Cleaned up. Because that’s what this was all about. They were dawning the masks of a vampire and his hunter respectively. And they were in public.

“Oh. And, kitten?” he called over his shoulder from where he’d moved towards his stash of emergency stage makeup and costume maintenance supplies. “Do try to struggle a bit more next time, hmm? We need to make this believable.”

Absolutely intolerable. Nothing like her at all.And if Saya gasped like a victim put to the cross during their next little display—noisy and loud in all the ways that tended to make his pupils grow round and dark. If she wriggled against his grip just so to make sure she was provoking him just as much as he was for her, with perhaps the added advantage of the hidden swell of his draped cloak to shield her pressing knees. Well, that was certainly no business but her own.

.

.

[jjkamochoso]

The Perfect Fit

Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 linked here

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing

You grunted, lifting the last box into the cart and feeling relief that your sore arms could take a break for the short ride over to the Scout Regiment. You slipped your foot into the saddle of the horse, brought your other leg up and over, and started on your journey. You wanted to enjoy the feeling of wind in your hair and sunshine on your face this fine summer day, but frankly, you were too exhausted to give a damn. Your fingers were numb, your wrists cramped, your eyes dry. You were up all night mending the Survey Corps uniforms. As the resident seamstress, tailor, and only person skilled enough at embroidery, you were always busy, but no time were you more overwhelmed with work than after the group comes back from an expedition. Most, if not all, soldiers’ uniforms had holes of every size that needed to be patched. Pants, jackets, capes—each had to be in working order and acceptable in appearance as fast as possible. There was never enough money allotted to the Scouts to buy new uniforms as often as they should and sometimes you were even left working with clothes of the deceased to clean and repurpose for their living comrades. The whole situation was messed up, sure, but with severe lack of resources, especially with Titans taking up the valuable real estate needed to cultivate more, you understood that you had to make do. And so, you did. Just because something is a necessity doesn’t make it any easier to work with, though. You took to your face a handkerchief to dab away the accumulated sweat as your horse neighed and the cart slowly came to a halt in front of barracks. You were afraid that when you dismounted, your legs would give out in exhaustion, but you mentally slapped yourself. There was no way you would show an ounce of weakness in front of the people who give their lives just to keep you safe. Before you could give it any more thought, a voice called out to you.

“Y/n! Welcome! I trust everything is here?”

Commander Erwin walked toward you, halting his conversation with a shorter man who looked displeased at the interruption, but nevertheless made his way to you as well.

“Hello, Commander. Yes, all of the Scouts’ uniforms are in here, mended and ready to wear.” You slid off your horse and thankfully didn’t fall over. “Where should I unload the boxes?”

“Captain Levi will show you where they go. If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to.”

Your eyes went wide when you realized who the man in front of you was.

“Captain Levi,” you said, a smile gracing your face, “it’s an honor to finally meet you, sir. I rarely receive your articles of clothing to fix. You must truly be as good as they say if you can avoid snagging your cape in the tree branches.”

Levi had an unreadable look on his face as he let out a “tch.” You were about to say something else when Hange came running over.

“Y/n!” They screamed in excitement, dragging out the last syllable of your name. You were greeted with a big hug from your friend and you felt the tiredness slip away from your body for a brief moment.

“Hange! I haven’t see you in forever! I made sure to stitch up your shirt extra well and took great care to make sure it was straight as can be.”

“Aww, I am your favorite-”

“Isn’t that your job?” Levi interjected, looking annoyed as ever.

You were confused by what he meant. “I’m sorry?”

“Your job. Isn’t it your job to make sure the stitches are straight? Why are you bragging about doing your job the way it’s supposed to be done?”

You felt your face warm in embarrassment. You weren’t expecting to make a fool out of yourself, especially in front of someone as important as the captain, yet here you were. You should’ve heeded everyone’s advice to avoid talking to him or near him at all costs. Hange punched him in the arm, presumably for being so rude around their friend, but you answered him before a fight ensued.

“I don’t have a sewing machine,” you muttered.

Levi raised his hand to his ear, signaling you to speak up. You took a deep breath, frustrated at his attitude.

“I said, I don’t have a sewing machine. I mend everybody’s clothes by hand, by myself, with a turn around time of basically nothing.” You felt yourself getting heated and you knew it was because you were tired, but you kept going. “I fix undergarments, shirts, pants, jackets, and capes for 150 people at a time. I scrub blood from the dead’s clothes until my own fingers bleed because we don’t have enough material for me not to. I’m sorry my standards aren’t high enough for you, Captain, but sometimes I can only work extra hard on one person’s uniform. If I took the time to be that precise with everyone’s, your cadets would be fighting the titans just as naked as they are.” You felt your eyes start to water but you were determined to keep your cool. “Now, please show me where these boxes go. I have lots of work that needs to be done.”

No more words were exchanged as you, Levi, and Hange moved the boxes to an empty room inside barracks. When the work was done and Hange bid you farewell, it was just you and the moody captain alone again. Your horse could sense the tension between you two, stamping the ground in light distress, and you both reached out to soothe the animal. Well, him being an animal lover makes you like him the tiniest bit more. Alas, you knew you had to make verbal amends or else you’d risk getting reprimanded by whatever higher ups caught wind of the situation that you weren’t giving 110% on your work (that inevitably gets ruined the next time the cadets get too rough during training, but you digress).

“Look, Captain, I sincerely apologize for my behavior. I know I technically don’t work under you but you’re still an officer and deserve respect. Just know that I am trying my best to work under these rough conditions, as are you and your team. I hope I didn’t offend you or undermine the importance of your team’s uniforms.” You lowered your head in a slight bow to show your remorse.

“Raise your head, dumbass. It’s fine,” he said, monotone as usual, and he walked away. When he was out of earshot, you groaned. You were lucky that you and Erwin were close or else you figured you’d be fired immediately for your lack of tact toward a superior. Mounting your horse once more, you rode back to your workshop for some much needed rest. With your horse squared away in its stable, you locked your front door behind you and took off your shoes, feeling your pain creep up. You went upstairs to your living area and sleep overtook you as soon as your head hit your pillow.

The next morning, you awoke to a soft knock at your door. It was much too early for any tailoring appointments you had, so after you yawned, you called out, “just a minute!” to let the person know you were on the way. However, when you opened the door, you weren’t greeted with a human, but a sewing machine! You stood in shock for a few moments before sweeping it into your arms, cradling it like a baby. As much as you never wanted to let go of the machine, you put it on your work table to read the note that was attached.

“ALL my soldiers deserve to be fitted with the best uniforms from the best seamstress. Also, go to the damn medic. Your fingers are fucking disgusting.”

If it weren’t for the note, you would’ve thought Hange got you the gift, but no—it must have been Levi! You couldn’t help but giggle at what he wrote as you looked down at your hands. He was right, of course. Your fingers had blisters all over them from sewing too much. He must’ve noticed them when you were moving boxes, or maybe when you touched your horse? Either way, he has a hell of an eye for detail because you were never all that close to him yesterday. Rereading the note, you felt your heart skip a beat. He definitely cared deeply about people, much more than he let on, which was apparent in the way he sourced a literal sewing machine for you in under 24 hours, a feat that few could pull off in these times. But he was just being a concerned captain, that’s all. There was nothing more to his actions, no hidden feelings or anything cheesy like that.

Right?

Chapter 2

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 138

Right after Valerie sees plasmius as Vlad he notices her. Obviously he can’t have that. Danny knowing was one thing. But to allow another. He won’t let that stand.

Don’t ask why he has one. But he shot her with a weapon designed to transport others elsewhere. He didn’t bother to test where. Just knows it’s not earth.

Danny and Ellie watch as Valerie gets shot and disappears.

Valerie ends up smack dab in the middle of either a justice league meeting or a legion of doom meeting.

Let chaos commence as both Danny and Ellie try to get Valerie back. And Valerie is just trying to get back to amity. She has a mayor to confront.

[queercatwithhat]

should i do dnp 2024 predictions or is that just silly now?

ah, fuck it

MY DAN AND PHIL 2024 PREDICTIONS ^__^

they change the name of their joint channel, maybe to "dan and phil"

phil gets a tattoo!

dan introduces a new concept for his main channel

they start a podcast and it's got the unhinged stereo energy

a cute selfie just randomly captioned "date night" gets posted cause they just don't gaf anymore

dab and evan get a child and this child has the yet strangest name, not the obvious "devan"

catboy phil somehow

daniel howell will wear a black, longer skirt and look beautiful

they go undercover as stan accounts and we all lose our shit

some sort of accident during a gaming video

amazingdan reactions

dan does not shut up about phil's ass

cornelia posts another tweet about them that's calling them best gay uncles or something like that

they start playing a long, emotional storygame like life is strange or detroit become human and one of them cries

they upload a video on valentines day and whatever it is, it's so corny that no one knows wether or not they're just fucking with us

they do another mukbang and this time dan talks a bit about the we're all doomed recording just like last time when they we're chatting about the interactive introverts dvd

also small addition; this mukbang isn't pizza again, instead i'm feeling indian, like yes shove that samosa in my mouth plz

seth everman comeback just for phil

phil announces a big, creative solo project (go phil go!!!!)

they announce a tour for 2025

full phouse tour never happens but they do show us some areas of it and we all realize they're not just rich, they're rich rich

think that's it for now =P

[tasteleeknow]

trying to help minho with a recipe but you can't cook at all and feel like you're doing a bad job :( only for him to laugh lovingly at you and help you out

cooking with minho! a very cute concept i haven't done yet. enjoy!

pairing: minho x gn!reader genre: fluff. friends to lovers. word count: 600

You loved spending time with your best friend more than anything else in the world. Whether he ever returned your feelings or not, it didn't matter. You loved him too much to care. That's why you agree to help him make dinner. It was one of the things he loved doing to wind down after a hard day. To you? It was a nightmare. You were a hazard in the kitchen and you knew it. Minho knew it too. The fact he'd invited you to help anyway had made a little bubble of butterflies burst in your chest. He liked you enough to put up with you.

"Can you chop the veggies for me?" he asks, pointing towards the chopping board with the wooden spoon he's holding. You step around him to grab the bag of onions, careful not to disturb him. His mouth is parted a little as he concentrates on his task, plush lips calling to you. It's torture; sweet torture you were very much accustomed to.

It takes far longer than it should for you to set up, dragging it out in the hopes Minho will notice and take over. You had chopped an onion before, obviously. But he was in the kitchen everyday. You imagined him turning around and seeing you doing it wrong. There could be a wrong way for all you knew. He might think you were stupid and useless and that would be it: doomed to look on and he falls in love with someone else. Someone who could chop an onion the right way.

You over at him, checking he has his back turned before you start. The onion falls apart as you chop and you find yourself cutting haphazardly across the chopping board, attempting to dice up any large pieces you spot before Minho turns around and notices your mess.

Then, the tears start. You swipe at your eyes with your sleeve, willing the stinging to stop. It doesn't. When Minho turns around finally you've dropped knife on the bench, holding both sleeves to your eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.

"Are they stinging?" he asks, gently pulling your hands down from your face. He laughs when you attempt to squint your eyes open, then, using his own sleeve, he wipes at your cheeks carefully. You can hardly see him, eyes completely blurred.

He leads you blind down the hallway to the bathroom then holds your hair back for you as you wash cold water over your face. He huffs out small laughs periodically at your mess and you feel your hopes of a large wedding slipping from your grasp. Sure, you'd embarrassed yourself before. He was your best friend. But he'd met this girl recently. She was pretty and funny and seemingly good at everything she tried. You couldn't compare.

Minho dabs a towel over your face when you're done then takes your cheeks in his palms. "Better?" he asks, lips still curved into a slight smirk.

You nod. "Sorry."

"I think the onion is to blame," he says, thumb stroking over your skin briefly before he releases you.

"Min?"

"Mm?" he hums, hanging your facecloth up to dry.

"Do you think... I'm good at anything?"

He laughs abruptly and you feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment. Stupid question.

"Don't pout," he says. "What are you asking me that for? Did the onion hurt your feelings?"

You slap him on the shoulder lightly, pulling an over dramatic wince from him as he rubs at his non-existent injury. "Nevermind," you sigh.

He grabs your arm as you turn to leave. "You're good at things," he says with a small smile. "Very important things."

"Like?"

"Making me happy," he grins. "The most important thing of all. You're better at that than anyone."

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

↳ general masterlist

[running-with-kn1ves]

Hello! I hope you’re well! Could I please request a yandere male idol with a fem reader? The reader is his manager and overworks a lot

A/N: I am currently a sick little dude without any motivation, so I’m sorry this one is a little sucky-- gonna try my hardest to make something Christmassy before christmas!! (Also anon I loved this and the gardener idea I'm just hella slow (TヘT) )

TW: manipulation, gaslighting, yandere-ish themes, fear of abandonment

Synopsis: As an overworked manager to a well-known but conceited idol, you plan on quitting right after one of his shows. Unfortunately, your client is a lot more convincing than you expected. 

Word Count:2800

The ending lyric to an all too familiar preppy, upbeat song was muffled behind the dressing room door you stood next to. Even the applause and screams of excitement could be heard through the thin performance center walls as you gathered up your bag. 

Feet stomped outside the door, rushing bodies moving back and forth to push stage equipment and props, making sure it all moves discreetly in time for the audience to stay oblivious. And, for the main idol to stay compliant. You waited to hear the heavier clacks of polished dance shoes, the sound of heavy breathing from hours of singing and layers of clothes being rustled. You smelt his hairspray before you heard his signature sounds, heart sinking at the fact that he was off the stage so soon. It only meant the confrontation you were dreading would come much faster than anticipated.

You used the small towel in your hand to dab at your forehead, looking at yourself in the bright vanity, hoping your client wouldn’t notice how obviously nervous you were. 

The door in front of you roughly shoved open, nearly hitting you until it slammed shut again, the star of the show leaning against it. He sighed heavy breaths, shutting his eyes and wiping at his forehead with his hand as he stood slumped. 

“Here,” You gestured the towel to him, wrapping it back into a perfect square like he preferred. 

He looked at you without a forethought, taking the towel.

“Thanks,” He snatched the water bottle out of your hands as well, moving over to his vanity. “Would’ve been more useful earlier, but whatever.” 

You didn’t let his words sting you like they did the first time you heard them. You knew it wasn’t personal, he was just in another mood after the unending performance he just gave for the second time tonight. 

“How was the show?” You asked, taking small steps towards him. 

He removed the pastel-pink wig from his head with a wince, tugging at the face tape stuck to it without remorse. 

“I don’t know, you tell me. You were the one watching.” 

“Actually, I wasn’t,” Your voice quivered a tad. “I just got here.” 

“What the hell? Why weren’t you here? What if something happened,” He began to untie the small tie around his neck, voice sounding somewhat softer despite his mood. “You know as my little ‘slave’ you’re supposed to be here 24/7.”

The idol ripped open a makeup wipe bag.

“I-, I know.” You looked at him in the mirror.

“What if there was a wardrobe malfunction? I could be doomed. And then who’s fault would that be?” He said casually, rubbing a wipe underneath his eyes to remove smudged mascara. 

“Yeah, I know…”

“So, what’s your excuse this time.” He asked in a bored tone, looking up at you. 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something serious-- Uh, something about my job as your, you know, manager.”

“Okay…” He said in a suspicious tone, rubbing at his lips to get rid of thick lipgloss and foundation. 

“Well, I feel I’ve outlasted my stay here. I mean, with the performance agency, and as your--”

The idol suddenly spun around in his chair, eyes wide and makeup half gone. He looked exhausted beneath the partly gone concealer and heavy eyeshadow-- all pieces made to make him stand out better in front of the crowd. 

“You know how much I appreciate you, right?” He said in the sweetest tone, looking at you with doe eyes. “You do so much for me, I don’t tell you that enough.”

You rolled your eyes, watching him use his fan-interaction voice with you. You hated when he tried to use his work voice-- you could stand the baratement when he was upset, but not the cutesy, shrill tone that bled disenguinity. 

“Miha, don’t do that.” 

“Do what? I’m just being honest.” He grabbed your hands, pulling you closer to him. 

The thing about Miha was that he could be sweet when he wanted to-- whether it was fake or not, he could do it. The problem was that naturally, he wasn’t. His natural response to those around him was selfishness and possessiveness. If he suddenly felt he should be generous or kind, he’d flip like a light switch. But that thought hardly ever entered his mind unless it benefited him. Despite knowing this, you allowed him to bring you close. 

Petting your hands he took a look at your nails, comparing them to his own. 

“When was the last time you took care of yourself? Your nails are awful, look at these.”

He picked at the dirt underneath your fingernails with his polished black ones, his hair still slicked back within the wig cap covering his head as he poked and prodded at your fingers. If you let him, he would’ve obsessed over them until they looked as nice as his pedicured ones. 

“Don’t change the subject.” You groaned. “I came here because I needed to tell you that I-- I can’t be your manager anymore.”

“Well I could’ve figured that one out myself, stupid. You looked like a kicked puppy when I came in; did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

He slapped your knuckles as a small form of punishment.

“So what is it, you want a raise?” 

“No, it’s not that.”

“More benefits? The agency not giving you enough? You’ve always been a bit of meek thing when asking for things, haven’t you.”

“Its nothing to do with the money--”

“So then, maybe its me? I know there’s been more work lately because of the tour, but you’ve always been so good at handling it. And I can’t do it without you,” He didn’t look at you while saying the compliment, returning to his vanity and stripping himself of the rest of his makeup. 

“Miha,” You cut him off, trying to make yourself appear more assertive. “I just can’t take being your-- your ‘slave’, anymore. I’ve been with you since your debut, these past six years have just... Become too much for me. The work, the stress.”

“Oh you know I just call you that as a joke,” He waved his hand, unbuttoning his shirt. “And besides, the fact that you’ve been with me for so long is why you have to stay. You can’t leave me now, not when my career is at its peak.”

“But--”

“But what?” He turned back around in his chair, shirt unbuttoned and face bare. He seemed more human like this, not all dressed up like when he was on stage or talk shows. All performers and idols had some sort of ‘face’ to put on, but it was more intimate when he was honest with you like this. “I don’t understand why you want to leave me.”

Miha huffed, getting up to walk slowly towards you and your packed bag. You usually left a few things in his dressing room, your “office” being a lonely desk in the corner of it where you’d set up your laptop and make countless phonecalls. But now, it was empty except for a lonely pen holder. He had been your only client for the past few years ever since you suddenly stopped getting new work from the agency, so you basically made his dressing rooms your second home.

You watched him rub the white cloth you handed him when he first came in along his chest. Slowly, he tried to see if you were watching, enticed in how he got rid of the sweat still clinging to his skin. 

“You don’t really want to abandon me, do you? I don’t think I could make it without you,” Miha bent down to your height, trying to find your eyes. You kept looking away, only making eye contact once the bottom of his water bottle was forced under your chin. “ You know you’ve always been more than just a manager to me…” 

He gripped your loose shirt, pulling at the bottom of it to bring you closer. You knew his games, knew that he’d often use his pretty boy charm to sway executives and talent judges. But this, something about it felt off. Yes, he was using his sad puppy dog charm, but there was an essence of… desperation in his voice. 

“Don’t do this, not right now…” 

“Do what…?”

“Try to act all mopey, trying to get me to stay.” 

“But I do need you to stay--! I can’t rely on anyone else--” 

“Miha--” 

“Besides, do you know what’ll happen if you try to leave me?” 

“I’m not leaving you--”

“You’ll be kicked from the agency. You’ll find it very hard to get work again. And if it gets out that you left me so horrendously….well, I can’t say I can predict how my fans react. You know how upset they get at the drop of a hat.”

He tugged you closer, pulling your hips flush with his own. 

“So just stay where you are, okay?”

His mouth was near your ear, heavy breaths against your warm flesh as he waited for your answer. You didn’t need to respond verbally for him to know he caught you in his web. But still, you were hesitant.

“That would never happen, no one cares about meaningless agents, especially since you’ve basically been my only client for the past few years... I’ll be fine,”

“But you won’t.” Miha grabbed your face with his hands, looking down at you as if you were just a small creature in his presence. “I don’t want to have to make it harder for you… and I won’t, if you stay by my side. Just be my cute little assistant like you have been, okay?”

“Manager.” You corrected.

“Yeah, my cute little manager.” 

You gulped at his words, watching his eyes as they traveled where yours did. He seemed to be anticipating your answer, not sure whether to lean in and kiss you or keep holding onto you so you couldn’t leave. 

“Miha…are you really threatening me?”

“No! I wouldn’t call it that. I’m just… giving you a heads up, is all. If you leave, that’s going to happen. So it’d be wise to stay, wouldn’t it?” 

“But I can’t, I just can’t live like this anymore.”

“Of course you can! I know i’m a bit--- difficult, but I can be easier if you just stay with me. I’ll change, I promise. It’ll be different now, just focus on me and don’t worry about everything else.”

You looked away, nervous and not entirely believing his words. A part of you wanted to believe he was capable of change, but you knew he was good at fabricating lies to keep people where he wanted them. Yet, you couldn’t deny the tight grip he had on your hips, the way his feet stood outside yours to prevent you from turning away. He was desperately trying to keep you there, to stop you from walking out that door with his words and his body language. 

You could see how lost he was; the man hardly knew how to take care of himself outside of the rigid schedule he was kept on. To be honest, he really did need you. He’d fall apart if you weren’t there, and you both knew that. 

Miha huffed, seemingly impatient with your indecision.

“Look, would it make you feel better if you came to my place tonight? I’ll cook you dinner, we can just sit down and relax. No work, just two ‘coworkers’ hanging out.” 

“I don’t know…”

“Atleast do this for me before you try to go off, okay?” 

You think about it for a moment. It couldn’t hurt, right? You’ve had dinner with clients before, but never at their actual homes. Stomping your feet out of frustration, you nodded reluctantly. Miha clapped his hands like a child, stripping off the rest of his shirt and pulling a new, more casual one on over his head. 

“Yay! Okay, don’t worry I’ll take care of everything.”

He knew you wouldn’t be able to resist a dinner offer. You’d been to his place multiple times, but it’d be different this time. He finally set some precautions to prevent any uncessary… attempts to leave. And before you knew it, you’d find yourself in his bed, cuddled up next to him without an ounce of awareness. 

“Just a small dinner, right? I can’t stay out too late.” You checked your watch and saw the small hand rest on the eight. 

“You’re such a worrywart. Don’t worry I’ll have you home before ten.” Miha lied, grabbing his big coat and flinging it on. 

The male pulled a folded face mask from the vanity, a crinkled black piece of fabric with elastic strings that he had already worn today when trying to get to the performance center without being noticed. 

You felt stupid standing there, having had the full intention of storming out with your belongings and claiming your freedom only minutes earlier. And yet that hadn't happened. You still stood in the same spot as usual, clutching onto your bag and waiting for the world renowned idol to be done getting ready. 

"Hold this." He said, handing you his duffle bag as he searched on the vanity for another item. You took it without a forethought, used to having to carry his items when he moved to and fro.  "I actually got something special for you. A little gift to commemorate my growth, you know."

You perked up at that, surprised. Miha never got you gifts, especially not out of the blue. Often he'd 'reward' your hard work with obsessive kisses and tight squeezes but you never considered that a gift, unlike him. 

Miha would have spoiled you more if he felt you wouldn't be put off by it, but didn't want to destroy the… "professional" relationship that you seemed so keen on keeping. Even when he offered to give you himself for the night-- multiple times-- you never gave in. It would be "too complicated" you always said, but he never saw that as a no. It was only a matter of time until he got you in his grasp. And he was sure the sleeping meds and red merlot he bought would be enough. 

You tried to peak at what miha was doing, but he turned around faster than you expected. 

"Here it is!" He rushed in front of you, pulling out your free arm and turning your wrist towards him. You watched him put a cold chain of metal around your wrist, adjusting the clasp so that it sat evenly. Looking in the vanity mirror he brought up your arm, showing what he had placed on you. It was a shiny piece of jewelry, a bright 'M' held by both sides of the chain.

"Uh… M?"

"for Miha. Or 'mine'. Which ever you prefer, little slave." He leaned down beside you, giving a small yet chaste kiss to your cheek. "Either way, it's a symbol of how you're staying with me. I was planning on giving it to you on my debut anniversary but…"

You looked at the bracelet with wide eyes and a slack jaw, completely surprised at the formality of the gift. It was beautiful-- simple, something most people wouldn’t notice out of the corner of their eye-- but still priceless. It didn’t look like your average piece of costume jewelry; and knowing miha, he tended to go all out when he had an idea. 

“Miha I can’t accept this--” You attempted to unclasp the jewelry before the idol stopped you. 

“You have to, I’m not giving you a choice.” Miha grinned, adjusting the piece. “Its a symbol of how you’re my manager… I’ll always be your number one, right?”

You stood mouth agape, unsure how to respond. This was the first time he’d ever gone out of his way to give you something that seemed --almost-- entirely out of selflessness. You nodded your head, gripping tight onto the duffle back slung over your shoulder. 

Miha gave you a small wink in the mirror, enjoying how you seemed caught off guard. He caressed your face with a finger as you struggled to say thank you.

With it, you realized the chain did more than just give you a sparkly hand-- it symbolized your long-developed capture, one you had been slowly falling into ever since you helped Miha rise to stardom.

[phansplaining]

GOOD TOUR MEET & GREET OR AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION THINGS TO SAY

-“haha dan and phil are so funny”

-“I really enjoyed seeing we’re all doomed, it was great”

-“the gaming channel reboot is hilarious”

-“dab’s new hair was in fact a hate crime 💀”

-“I loved [insert name of video you liked]”

BAD TOUR MEET & GREET OR AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION THINGS TO SAY

-anything about rpf

-any insults. you don’t know them like that. overfamiliar insults are for your friends, not celebrities

-any reference to “boyfriends” “husbands” “marriage” that isn’t about dab and evan

-anything sexual about dan or phil. if you don’t want a random fifty year old man in a walmart saying it to you, don’t say it to them.

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

have fun phannies, cultivate good tour vibes ✌️🫶🧡

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

[sariahsue]

The Weather Outside Is Frightful (But You Are So Delightful)

Uh oh! A snowstorm has Ladybug and Adrien snowed in at the hotel. And there's only one bed! 4,900 words, rated G

Ladybug stood behind a line of picked over snack tables, not realizing she was so lost in admiration of Adrien that she’d been slowly lowering her hand, until the napkin she was holding was nearly submerged in a punch bowl. With a yelp, she pulled it out, flecks of red staining the white tablecloth (Why couldn’t it have been a red tablecloth? That was a Christmas color!) and threw the ruined napkin under the table, before looking around and hoping she wouldn’t find anyone watching her. 

Everyone seemed like they were having a good time, not paying her any attention. The party was almost over, and they’d all gotten used to her presence, thank goodness. It had been difficult playing the perfect superhero up close like this, under everyone’s scrutiny. Fortunately, there’d been enough splendor and good company to draw their attention. 

Mayor Bourgeois’ annual Christmas party at Le Grand Paris was always a sight to behold. The food tables had been piled high with treats from the city’s best restaurants and bakeries. Every surface had been covered with glittering decorations. The guests were all classy and well dressed. 

Especially one of them, Adrien. His hair shone in the soft twinkling lights of the Christmas tree next to him. His smile was warm and genuine. And when he laughed, Ladybug heard the music of it carry across the room, just for her.

She savored what she knew were the last moments. In a few minutes, the mayor would come in and thank everyone for coming, and announce that limos were arriving and rooms were ready for the guests spending the night. 

Just on cue, a set of polished double doors swung inward. The crowd turned as one, smiles floating and wine glasses sloshing. Mayor Bourgeois tiptoed in, his pale blue tuxedo making his ashen expression all the more grim, and Ladybug’s heart clenched. Years of fights had made her hypersensitive to signs of impending doom.

“Thank you all for coming,” he called over the crowd. “It has been a joyous evening, filled with cheer!”

There were a few scattered claps as he dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. Several more people murmured in concern. 

“A few cars have arrived, however–” He wiped his upper lip. “The storm has arrived sooner than expected. Not to worry! Not to worry!” he said before anyone could panic. No one did. Even Ladybug was relaxing. Just some snow. 

“We have plenty of rooms available for those who will be unexpectedly spending the night. Please check in at the front desk if you have any questions.” His dire pronouncement over, the mayor retreated back through the doors, leaving them open for guests to follow through. The howling of the wind, which she hadn’t given any thought to before, shrieked to draw attention to itself. Or tried to. Ladybug still wasn’t paying it any attention. How could she when Adrien was looking so cute? He was adorable when he was concerned.

Partygoers started to trickle through the open door, and as the crowd thinned, she decided it was time to make a move: she would watch him as he waited for his driver. 

In the hallway, guests shuffled through the front door out into the storm. Adrien waited patiently, not tapping his toes or drumming his fingers. He was perfectly poised and immaculately dressed.

Ladybug stood by the wall behind him, waiting for the perfect combination of catching Adrien alone and her own rising courage to converge together. But when the time came, the mayor beat her to him. She stalled between them and the safety of the sidelines, close enough to hear their conversation. 

“I’m sorry, Monsieur Agreste. I’ve just heard from your father, and your car is stuck.”

“Is the driver all right?”

Ladybug smiled. It was just like Adrien to think of others’ safety before his own convenience.

“Of course, my boy. Merely delayed.”

“Until?”

The mayor cleared his throat. “Until tomorrow. But don’t worry, don’t worry,” he added quickly. “There’s plenty of room for everyone. Come to the front desk and they will fix you up.” And away he scurried to find the next guest.

Which was her. 

“Ladybug, thank you so much for coming! It’s a shame my Chloe wasn’t here. You know how much she loves her favorite hero!”

“Yes, I do!” she said with a smile that was even faker than it was wide. 

“I insist you stay here for the night! I can’t have our city’s favorite hero subjected to the horrible elements.”

“Thank you, but Chat-”

The wind’s howl rattled the front door, and the mayor wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shuffled her to the front desk. Adrien trailed behind.

Ladybug watched him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed reluctant to get too close, but they were the last two people in line, and she was thankful for the social norms that dictated he come a little closer. By the time Ladybug’s turn came, he was standing only a few feet away.

The receptionist was decorated as elaborately as the hall had been. The Christmas tree perched on her head had lights that twinkled. The bells on her ugly sweater jingled as she typed at the computer. “You are lucky, Ladybug,” she said. “You can have our last room!” 

“Oh.” Ladybug stepped to the side, directing the woman’s attention to Adrien behind her. “Please, I don’t need it. Adrien can have the room. I’ve faced worse storms than this fighting akumas.” 

The weather begged to differ. Snow pelted the windows so hard she swore she could hear them rattle. 

“I can sleep in the lobby,” said a soft voice behind her.

She and the mayor turned to gape at Adrien. 

“I mean,” he started. Ladybug flushed as he stared directly at her. “You deserve the room, after everything you’ve done. Paris needs you safe. I can sleep on a couch down here. I don’t mind.” And he smiled as he said it all. 

Ladybug wanted her mouth to move and for words to come out, but she didn’t bother trying. The sentences were soup in her brain. Speaking wouldn’t help anything. Fortunately, the mayor came to her rescue. 

“We can’t have guests sleeping in the lobby. Check the computer again. There must be something available. An unused adjoining room? A last-minute cancellation?” 

The receptionist looked back at him impassively. “I checked three times. Everything is booked.” 

“Really,” Adrien offered. “I–”

“No,” Ladybug squeaked. “I can’t– I can go. Now. The room can have Adrien! I mean, Adrien can have Adrien. And the room. They can have each other! Because I’m sure they’re both perfect.”

Ladybug burst through the front doors with a face hot enough to melt all the snow that hit it. 

---

Within minutes, the storm had covered her in a thin slush, and the wind kept trying to blow her back toward the hotel. She threw her yoyo anyway, up and over the street, and back into the brick wall of the building. A few more throws gave her the same results, until she faceplanted and slid down the smooth surface of glass. 

A flurry of movement fluttered on the other side. Sliding glass doors, she realized. With the curtains pulled back to watch the snow.

Before she could peel herself away from the glass, the door opened, and Adrien was extending his hand. If only the storm had swallowed her up. She wasn’t sure if she could live with the shame of having to be rescued from a snowstorm. But she let herself be led inside, unable to refuse Adrien’s shy smile.

---

“I can still sleep on the couch downstairs,” he said.

Ladybug was toweling her hair dry. Her hands slowed but only for a minute as she considered what the offer meant. How much she must matter to him.

“You can’t,” she said, her face still hidden by the towel. Which was by design. Her face was warming up again, and it wasn’t because of the suite's electric fireplace.

“I’m sure the mayor-”

“Would say no. And I don’t want to make a fuss. Thank you for offering, but once the wind dies down, I’ll be on my way.”

Even with the curtains drawn, she knew the storm was still raging outside.

“You can’t,” he repeated. “It’s not safe.”

Ladybug peeked out at him from under the towel. Adrien’s eyes were wide at his own outburst. “I’ll be missed at home.” It wasn’t true. She was having a sleepover at Alya’s, but her friend would miss her. It was close enough.

“Why don’t you call to let them know? You can use the bathroom.” 

“Yes, thank you. I’ll do that.”

Adrien was the perfect gentleman, as always, leading her to the bathroom and pushing the door open for her. The bathroom was as large as her entire bedroom, with tiled and chrome everything. When she detransformed, warmth rose through her socks. The floor was even heated. Through the door, she could hear Adrien on the phone, talking to the woman on the desk probably, asking where he could stay for the night. 

Alya was going to fix that problem for them. She picked up before the first ring ended.

“Girl, what is taking you so long? Did you get stuck out in the storm?” 

“Hi to you, too. And yes, kind of. Stuck in the hotel. Adrien’s insisting I stay the night in his room because there’s nowhere else free. I’m going to tell him that my mom definitely needs me at home, though.”

Silence.

Marinette glanced at the door, then whispered. “Alya?”

“I’m locking you out. You’re no longer invited over tonight.”

“Funny.”

“A chance to have a sleepover with Adrien? You’re taking it.”

“I can’t stay here!”

“You don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You wouldn’t really lock me out.”

The line clicked. Marinette pulled the phone away from her face. Call ended. Alya wouldn’t really lock the doors. If she went over there and knocked on the window… but what if she had told her parents that Marinette was stuck at home, and then how would she explain her appearance the next morning? She huffed in annoyance.

Tikki, who had been admiring all the sweet-smelling soaps, looked over. “Are you staying the night?”

“I shouldn’t, but…” 

“It will be fun. Don’t worry.”

Marinette threw her face in her hands. If Tikki, Alya, Adrien, and the weather were all conspiring against her, what could she do? But she couldn’t just… stay. He would have nowhere to sleep. And she’d only talked to him a few minutes but had slipped and tripped over her words like they were covered in banana peels. Or something. Ugh. She ground the heels of her hands against her forehead. Even her thoughts made no sense when he was this close. 

A soft knock, followed by Adrien quietly calling her name, didn’t prepare her for him tripping and crashing into the door. It whipped open and crashed into the wall with a crack. Marinette, still not transformed, held in a shriek. Adrien tumbled forward, covering his eyes instead of catching himself. He landed on the floor in a heap. 

“I didn’t see anything!” 

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” With his eyes firmly closed, he pushed himself to his knees and rubbed at his elbows. 

Marinette’s grabbed under his arms. “Let me help you.”

“I can do it. Please, you don’t need to-”

 It wasn’t as easy as it would’ve been if she were suited up, but Marinette got Adrien to his feet and guided him toward the door.

“I am so sorry,” he moaned.

“It’s fine,” she said. He hadn’t seen anything. It was fine. But her heart still raced. 

“I am already messing everything up. They won’t let me sleep downstairs, and now I almost- I promise I won’t mess up like that again. I am so-”

“Adrien.” 

He looked absolutely agonized. She thought she had been the only one who was nervous, but was it possible that he was too? 

“Have you ever had a sleepover before?” she asked. She knew he hadn’t.

He shook his head.

“I’ll be right back. I have an idea.”

The door closed with a quiet click. She could push aside her fears to make Adrien feel better. Especially if it was just for one night. Plus, she thought as she transformed, the forced proximity might help her get used to him. And then she could prove to herself that they would be a good couple someday.

---

“So, what’s the plan?” Adrien asked. The bed covers were tightly pulled in and the pillows were fluffed to perfection. He sat on the corner of the mattress, stick straight, like he was too uncomfortable on it to make himself at home.

“The plan is to have fun. That’s how sleepovers work.”

“Oh.” He looked around the room, expecting something fun to materialize now that she’d said the word. “What do we do?”

“Haven’t you ever had fun before?”

He spluttered a response. “Of course, but there’s nothing here!” 

“Truth or dare!” 

Someone out in the hallway laughed while Adrien’s face went white. “Isn’t that game a little dangerous?”

“It’s not that bad,” she said, sitting down on the couch, which was too hard to be comfortable. “I’ll go first. Truth.” 

“Okay,” he said slowly, giving himself more time to think of a suitable question. “What do you think of Chat Noir?”

“Come on. That’s an easy one. He’s great. He’s my trusted partner. I would–” 

“No, I mean…” A shy, almost sly look crossed his face. “What do you feel about him?” 

Ladybug felt her face heat up. 

“I’m so sorry,” Adrien said. “I overstepped.” 

She was not going to fan her face, even though she wanted to. “No, you get the idea of the game. Good job.” 

“I’m bad at sleepovers. Strike two.” 

There wasn’t any way to salvage the game. Maybe it would just be easier to suggest something else entirely. “Hide and seek?”

---

Adrien stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed and listening for her. When they’d realized there weren’t any good hiding places in the suite, they’d decided on a slightly altered version of the game. Ladybug was standing out in the open, perfectly, and not making a sound. Adrien had stopped moving around the room, hoping to bump into her, and was trying to be more strategic. It wasn’t working. 

Ladybug liked this version of the game. It still required effort to find each other. Plus, it gave her a reason to look at him, and she could spend her time admiring him without fear of being caught. 

Giving up on listening for her, Adrien started moving again, only to immediately bump into the bed. 

“Sorry,” he said, trying to smooth out the covers and only making them more wrinkled.

Ladybug tried to cover a giggle. Adrien pointed right at her.

“Yup, you found me. My turn!”

Adrien blinked as he focused on her, posing in the middle of the room. “Were you there the whole time?”

“The whole time! Definitely didn’t move around when you got close.” 

“Cheater.”

This is a good idea, Ladybug thought to herself as she closed her eyes. Her anxiety levels had been easier to manage since telling herself she was helping him, but not looking at him would probably help even more. 

She listened, waiting to hear his feet against the carpet or a soft breath. After a few seconds, she took a tentative step forward. Her knee knocked against the side table. There was no echo of laughter to give him away. 

Which was good. It meant he wasn’t laughing at her. Right? But what if he was rolling his eyes? She wouldn’t have any way of knowing. What if he thought she was clumsy? Who would want to hang out with a clumsy superhero? 

She took a few steps backward, turned, and started in a new direction, only to immediately hit the bed. When did that get there?

Still no sound from Adrien. If she was lucky, he would think that she was doing it on purpose to make him give himself away. And she was luck personified, so it should be fine.

A few more minutes of blindly stumbling through the room yielded no Adrien. Had she been taking too long? It felt like she’d been searching for ten minutes already, and there’d been no trace of him. What if he’d… left? 

Would he leave her here? To foolishly flail around the room until she admitted defeat? 

Suddenly, his adamant desire to sleep in the lobby made sense. He wasn’t being a gentleman. He just wanted to get away from her.

A crash right behind her made her jump backward and fall into him, knocking them both to the ground. 

Ladybug scrambled up, but Adrien stayed on the ground, hands over his face, the lamp he’d knocked off the table in three pieces next to him. “Third strike,” he said. One hand left his face to pull out his phone. 

“Hey,” she said, wrapping her hand around his before he could dial. Adrien stilled.

They were making each other anxious. What would Chat Noir do in a situation like this? Well, they wouldn’t have been in a situation like this to begin with, that was for certain. He would set everyone at ease with a bad joke and a carefree laugh. 

“Adrien.” She waited until he was looking at her. “They won’t let you sleep in the lobby.” Still holding his hand over his phone, she pulled him up. “Guess you’ll have to sleep in the hall.” Then pointed to the sliding glass door. “Or maybe out on the balcony.” 

It was an effort to keep her face straight, even as his eyes went wide and he pulled away, slipping his hand out from under hers. His gaze darted down to his phone, and once he was distracted, she lunged for a pillow, smacking it into his face.

Adrien was already unsteady on his feet, and the pillow sent him two steps backward. The force of the hit sent his hair flying up every which way, and Ladybug had to laugh. “It looks like you’re wearing cat ears.”

His hands jerked up to fix it, but Ladybug stopped him with a hasty “Don’t move!” and a flick of the wrist to bring out her yoyo. Before he’d lowered his hands, she’d taken a picture and was showing it to him. He couldn’t help but laugh too. She hit him with the pillow again, pushing him back until he sat on the couch. 

Chat Noir would also give her a pep talk, telling her how great she was and how much he believed in her. So she crouched down, placing a hand on his knee and looking up into his face. “You are not messing up the sleepover. And you don’t need to do anything except be yourself and be here, and you are great at doing both of those things.”

There were five decorative pillows on the couch, each with a beaded picture of a Christmas item. Adrien grabbed the star one and held it to his stomach, looking down. Maybe he’d needed to hear this more than she’d realized. She craned her neck until she was in his line of sight again. 

“I don’t mind if you mess up. I mess up all the time! Didn’t you hear me stumbling over my words all night? I think this is the longest I’ve ever talked to you without getting tongue tied. I’m a total disaster! Ask Chat. He’ll tell you.” She sat back a little, letting him have his space while he took in her words. “So I won’t hold it against you if–” 

The pillow lashed out, hitting her square in the face and knocking her backward onto the ground.

And the pillow fight was on.

---

“Oops. I dropped the lipstick,” Ladybug said.

Adrien didn’t flinch and didn’t open his eyes, just raised a shoulder slowly. Always the perfect model. Even if she was the only one who would see her makeup job. “Did it get on the blankets?” he asked.

She flicked it aside to check. “Yes.”

“It’s fine. I’ll pay the staff to dry clean it.”

���Or you can tell them I did it and they probably won’t charge you.” 

“I will gladly take this hit for you.” 

“Your father’s wallet is taking the hit.” She picked up the lipstick and twisted the cap back on, then grabbed an eyebrow pencil. “Do blankets need to be dry cleaned? How much would that even cost?”

“I don’t know how much anything costs,” he said.

He sneezed, knocking Ladybug’s hand so she gave him a unibrow. Oh well. It matched everything else she was doing to him.

It was the feathers’ fault. They were really to blame for everything that had gone wrong tonight, not her or Adrien. Messed up makeup. A pillow fight ended early. Flecks of white still dotting the carpet. One of the pillows had started leaking after a few minutes of abuse. They’d picked up as much as they could, shoving the evidence back into the ripped corner. 

“I think I’m done,” she announced, grabbing his chin, “and I think it’s better than what you did to my poor face.”

Adrien quirked a lip that was generously coated in lipstick. (Which had been generously donated by Chloe, after Adrien had told Ladybug where his childhood friend kept the extras stashed and convinced her that Chloe wouldn’t ever miss them.)

“I told you I didn’t know what I was doing,” he said. “So really, it was your own fault.”

“All those years of modeling and makeup. I would have expected you to be an expert.”

“An expert at sitting still and doing nothing.”

“You were a marvelous subject,” she said, “and I have created a work of art.” She tugged on his arm until he stood and let himself be dragged into the bathroom, where he could admire himself in the large mirrors.

A pale white face, heavily blushed cheeks, and the cherry on top was a bright red nose. She only wished Chloe owned a rainbow wig she could have borrowed, too.

“You have tried to make me ugly,” he said, “but you have failed.”

“I did,” she admitted. “And you’re right. You are a beautiful clown.”

“My highest aspiration in life. How did you know?”

---

Adrien rudely interrupted her five-star impression of a chicken by grabbing her face and wiping the blush off one cheek. 

“If you didn’t want to hear it,” she complained, “you should have picked something else.”

Even though the only bit of makeup still on his face was the gigantic red lips, that couldn’t detract from his beautiful smile. “Truth,” he said.

Ladybug tapped her chin. “If you were a superhero…”

Adrien went very still.

“What superpower would you want to have?”

He leaned back on the pillows propped against the headboard. “I thought you were supposed to ask super embarrassing, invasive things in this game.”

Ladybug sat cross-legged in front of him on top of the wrinkled, lipstick-stained covers. “I mean, if you don’t appreciate the mercy I’m show you, then–”

“Would it be terrible to say I wish I could make it snow forever?”

If the heat filling her chest could cancel out the storm, it would have been over within seconds. “Probably, but I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

They’d only inhabited the room for a few hours, they didn’t have any of their belongings, and already it looked like they’d moved in. Pictures were askew, the leftover dishes from their shared dinner were scattered across the couch and floor, extra pillows dotted the carpet (because how could they have gotten to the bathroom when the floor was lava without those pillow life rafts?), the fire in the electric fireplace bathed them with light and warmth, and snow drifted against the glass door, muffling the sounds of the storm. It was feeling cozy inside their little oasis, despite the cold a few feet away. 

“Truth,” Ladybug said.

“Based on your earlier response, I’m going to go ahead and say you and Chat Noir are a steady couple.”

She rolled her eyes. How different her reaction had been the last time he’d brought this up. Had it really only been a few hours ago? “I’m not starting any rumors here.” 

“I promise I won’t go to the tabloids with the details of your deep, committed relationship.” 

“Don’t they usually come to you?”

“Are you going to let me ask my question?” he said. “Or are you, noble defender of truth, trying to evade?”

She waved at him to continue. 

He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “In the unfortunate event that you and Chat Noir break up–”

Ladybug snorted. 

“Would you ever consider going out with me?”

That wasn’t the direction she’d been expecting his question to take, and she felt her giddiness rise along with the blood that was flooding her face. Playing it cool was probably the best response. “Maybe.” 

“Maybe?”

“Yes, maybe.”

“Yes? I heard a yes.”

The night was going so well. They were getting so comfortable with each other, all hints of anxiety gone. And he was asking questions like this. Maybe, when they were older and all the miraculous were safely in her possession, they really would live happily ever after. The possibility felt closer than it ever had before.

His yawn interrupted her musing. 

“Oh, we didn’t figure out the sleeping situation. I didn’t realize how late it was,” she said, looking over at the clock. 

“I’m sleeping on our couch, obviously.” 

“You really want that experience.”

“I don’t want to miss out. It sounds glamorous. But I can’t go to sleep yet. We haven’t watched a single movie! And I’ve been building my list all night.” He yawned again and stretched.

“You going to last that long?”

“Of course.” 

He flung the covers back. The inside sheets were still pristine and white, almost too nice to get comfortable in. Almost. Ladybug didn’t hesitate when Adrien instructed her to sit back and relax while he started the first movie and hit the lights. The pigtails were uncomfortable while lying down, and she carefully picked them out. She left the blankets where they were, pooled on the foot of the bed, at first poking her toes underneath them, then sliding down farther, until her ankles and knees were covered, hoping he would get the hint and pull them over her, and lie down next to her, of course. 

He didn’t. 

Of course.

Adrien came back, kneeling with his back to her on the heap of blankets. The movie titles flashed across the screen, adding another layer of flickering light to the fire’s glow. When he found the one he wanted, he leaned back on the pillow next to hers, leaving a respectable amount of space, because Adrien was always the perfect paramount gentleman. 

But after how far they’d come in such a short amount of time, Ladybug was comfortable enough - confident enough - to scoot closer to him and rest her head against his shoulder. He tensed, then relaxed, Ladybug’s head sinking lower as his shoulders returned to their natural slope. 

Neither of them moved for a few minutes, pretending to watch the movie in silence. Ladybug had her eyes closed, listening to the sound of the wind, which didn’t quite drown out the sound of Adrien’s breathing, and trying to memorize exactly what it felt like to be near him like this, the press of his shirt against her face, the warmth of his body. 

Adrien, finally, pulled up the blankets. 

---

Ladybug blinked in the darkness, confused. 

Nothing was moving. She thought there had been some movement, but there was nothing in the room. The fire had died down to a low glow. The movie was paused. The wind whistled, high and shrill outside. She rolled onto her side, and then jumped backward when she nearly rolled over Adrien. And he’d been so sure he would stay awake for his whole list.

Carefully, so she wouldn’t risk waking him up or making him shift away from her, she weaved an arm under the covers and across his stomach. 

Her last thought before drifting off again was how peaceful he looked, how cute he was, even if he did sleep with his mouth open. 

---

When Ladybug woke up again, Adrien was already awake, as firmly wrapped around her as she was around him. 

“Merry Christmas, Ladybug,” he said, smiling at the ceiling.

The sheets and blankets twisted around them, tethering them together. Pillows were pooled on the floor. Feathers spilled onto the ground. Splotches of makeup peppered the carpet around where the compact had fallen. 

She felt his eyes on her, watching her take in the state of the room, before he let go of her and scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “We kind of made a mess,” he said.

She grabbed his arm, bringing it back down to its home around her waist. “It’s a beautiful mess.”

He laughed. “I would have disagreed with you yesterday, but you’re right.” He rested his cheek against her hair and sighed happily. “And we can clean it up together.”

---

Author's note: This story is a remix of @thelibraryloser's fic "Since We've No Place to Go (Let it Snow)." Thank you for your wonderful fic! And thank you to @mlsquaredance for hosting this fun event.

[genericpuff]

words cannot express how hilarious this was to dissect in the newest FP episode-

and I'm not talking about the Hera thing, or the embargo thing (trying to be vague so I don't overly spoil people lmao) I'm talking about THIS specifically:

This is a very real panel that showed up in this week's episode of LO. Right smack dab in the middle of the comic as the word "Xenia" was spoken. Not at the bottom of the episode, not in the author's comment or in the comment section itself, nah, it was put directly into the comic like an author's note shoved into a shitty Wattpad novel/fanfiction.net AU. And no specific URL either, it's just "princeton.edu" which you probably can guess just takes you to the general Princeton University page and not to the specific article Rachel's getting this "research" from.

But it gets better.

Because if you google "Xenia greek mythology" you get THIS-

Word. For fucking. Word. Even the typo error that's missing a space between the : and Zeus' name. And the URL that's sourced? "princeton.edu" with the slug being abbreviated. This is where Rachel got her source.

BUT IT GETS BETTER.

Because if you actually CLICK the article link (which I doubt Rachel even did), you get THIS:

Oh boy. There is so much to dissect about this. First of all, for anyone who might be confused, this isn't an academic paper or anything of the sorts, it is a reading guide for Princeton University students... from 2004. And hot damn, does it ever LOOK like it's from 2004 because this website looks like something I would have used in my middle school computer classes. It's unstable (literally "Not stable" in its network protection), has broken image links, BUT IT GETS EVEN BETTER-

BECAUSE ON THE HOME PAGE, IT INFORMS STUDENTS THAT THE SYLLABUS "HAS BEEN UPDATED" AND "OTHER LINKS ARE LESS RELIABLE."

THIS IS A READING GUIDE

MEANT FOR STUDENTS STUDYING IN A SINGLE SEMESTER FROM NEARLY 2 DECADES AGO

THAT HASN'T BEEN UPDATED OR UPKEPT

AND EVEN ITS OWN PROFS ARE DISCREDITING IT AS A REPUTABLE SOURCE BECAUSE OF HOW OLD IT IS

AND THIS IS THE SOURCE RACHEL - A 'SELF-PROCLAIMED FOLKLORIST' - PUT INTO HER #1 BESTSELLING WEBTOON ABOUT GREEK MYTHOLOGY, LITERALLY COPY PASTED WORD FOR WORD WITHOUT ANY SHRED OF DEEPER RESEARCH BEYOND THE FIRST 3 RESULTS OF GOOGLE.

I'M FUCKING CRYING LOL IF THIS IS THE EXTENT OF HER 'RESEARCH' NO SHIT SHE WAS DOOMED FROM THE START 🤣 I HAVE SEEN BETTER AND MORE RELEVANT RESEARCH DONE AND SOURCED ABOUT MY O W N CULTURE AND MYTHOLOGY WHICH BARELY HAS A PULSE BECAUSE OF COLONIZATION.