#Given time he and Pen could totally fall in love

[helthehatter]

From what the tags tell me I'm on a lonely road

[auspicioustidings]

Services/Goods of Equivalent Value

Summary: You decide to renovate a crumbling farm house into a teashop, not realising there is a military base right down the road.

Work Count: 3.9k (this was completely by accident)

CW: None, the whole thing is a fluff piece

This was probably crazy. It was definitely crazy right? People didn't actually get to pursue their passions and have their dream job under relentless capitalism, that wasn't a thing right? So then why did you think that you could be different? Especially standing on this road (dirt path really) looking at the crumbling wreck of a farmhouse with only one suitcase and a backpack to your name.

The property had already taken a chunk of your savings and you'd need every penny of the rest to try and turn it into what you imagined. You walked over the threshold and took a breath. It was a rainy day, the puddles on the floor evidence of the holes in the roof. Parts of the floor were cracked and rotting. Only one window had managed to stay completely intact, the rest either totally gone or cracked beyond repair. But when you turned the tap and found that after a heroic sputter the water did flow through you grinned. 

It didn't matter how the small space looked now, it mattered what you could see in it. You got to work.

--

You threw the screwdriver on the ground and huffed, stopping your feet like a child. This was the 5th time you had attached the new front door and the 5th time it was wrong. It wouldn't fit in the frame properly. You kept plaining down the edge gingerly, taking off a tiny bit at a time so you didn't go too far, and every time when you propped it up it seemed like it fit until you actually added the hinges.

"Ye ok there hen?"

Oh that was embarrassing, there was a man on the road. He was jogging in place, pausing what must have been a run judging by his workout gear to give you a bemused grin. You flustered a little, wildly gesturing to the door in accusation. You had every good reason to be in a huff, the door was being a dick. 

He laughed at you and you blew out a breath before groaning and slumping down to hug your knees and bury your head there in embarrassment, your voice muffled.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong, it just won't go on."

You heard warm laughter and then footsteps coming towards you. Felt a hand gently petting at your head in a 'there there' gesture. 

"I wouldnae expect it tae. It's the wrong type of door for this frame."

You unburied your head and looked at him, aghast. 

"But can't I just make it smaller? I've been making it smaller. I really love that door."

"Aye that would eventually make it fit, but it's an interior door, wilnae dae fuck all to keep the elements oot."

You groaned and just accepted your fate, falling back on your ass and then laying star fished on the ground to stare at the sky. You were bone tired. You'd laid the floor, it was crooked as hell. The windows were fitted but two of them just did not open properly and you couldn't figure out why. You had given up on the leaks, putting buckets down for the moment and hoping the next downpour would hold off until you could come up with a solution.

It wasn't like you weren't trying your hardest, but it was just so much all the time and you wondered why on earth you thought you could do this. A shadow fell over you as the man leant to look at you with a smile.

"I can help ye with the door" he offered, holding out a hand which you took to shake from your spot on the ground, telling him your name. "Nice tae meet you, John MacTavish."

"I can't pay you John MacTavish, so thanks but I'll figure something out."

"Wisnae offering for pay hen, just tryin' tae help a damsel in distress."

You considered him for a moment before hauling yourself up and making your way inside, motioning for him to follow. You started tearing through the place to find a pen and paper, clearing tools and assorted nonsense off of the countertop to lay the paper flat. 

Johnny took the place in with some sense of awe. Last time he saw this place it was basically a ruin and he had to hand it to you, you had done a half decent job with it. There was charm in all the flaws, made the place feel undeniably cosy. He noted the buckets, would have to fix the roof. He wasn't any good at that kind of work, but hadn't he seen Rudy doing roof work on one of the safe houses before? They were due a visit from Los Vaqueros soon, he'd ask him to come help. Wasn't too far a trip, this road was a half hour run from a small off record military base the 141 tended to use when they didn't feel like being miserable in some rules bound grey prison of a base.

Rudy was a bit like him, always loved a project. He tried to figure out what exactly you were doing with the place. The counter looked like a bar of some sort, maybe a shop? 

"Ok John, here you go" you said, presenting the very hastily written contract. 

I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value as soon as I have the means to do so. 

"Services and goods eh? Wit ye selling?"

"Once I get the place fixed up, tea."

Johnny couldn't help but grin at your expression. You were so determined and so excited about the prospect, like the idea of it had completely re-filled your energy. Cute.

"Add coffee to the menu and you have a deal."

--

You liked Alejandro immediately and immensely. John, or Soap as you were now calling him and honestly you had no clue why, and Rudy were absolute terrors together. You actually did enjoy being around them, but my God if it didn't tire you out something awful. It was impossible not to be high energy with them, bouncing around and laughing and having fun. But when Alejandro had joined he had calmed you down, allowed you to take it slow and easy after days of feeling like a live wire. 

With the roof fixed and a front door that worked you were able to start actually unpacking the suit case you had brought into the place months ago. Two kettles and your favourite tea set along with a big copper pot you loved, some utensils and some hand blended tea. It wasn't a lot, but being able to make that first pot of tea almost made you cry. 

You were extra attentive, making sure it was brewed perfectly before going outside to find the others. You were nervous, the first time you had felt that way around them. None of the three were much for tea, that you knew. 

"Hey I... uh, I made tea. I don't actually have any coffee just yet but I promise I'm going to get some soon! It was just in the meantime, if you wanted something to drink. Tea I mean, if you wanted to drink some tea. Which you do not have to" you rambled, trying to give your best winning smile to the three men currently working away at one of the windows. The ones that you couldn't open you had installed completely wrong so they had taken to reinstalling them. 

Johnny and Rudy were content to watch you ramble away, seeing you like this being new to them so choosing to enjoy it while it lasted. You were adorable like this, heart on your sleeve telling them that it was important to you that they enjoyed something you had made for them. Alejandro only smiled and pulled off his gloves, stuffing them in his back pocket and going over to you.

"We would love some tea, it's the first time you've made it here no? Thank you for trusting us to share it" he said warmly, watching how you visibly relaxed. He liked that he could have that effect on you.

"Well if the boss says we drink tea then we drink tea" Rudy laughed, him and Soap following after.

--

You reckoned that if he went by first impressions, Simon Riley probably thought you were the biggest airhead he had ever met. In your defence though, you had the worst cold known to man when he had come round. 

The place was looking great, but the fireplace wasn't done yet. As you had been since starting this project, and as you had been hiding from any visitors, you were sleeping in the building in a sleeping bag on the floor. It was getting bitingly cold and you were bundled up in layers whenever you went to bed. You could not afford to rent somewhere nearby while this was going on and to be honest you hadn't really thought ahead to what you would do when you actually opened the place. Probably just keep on sleeping on the floor, or maybe once you got furniture on one of the cosy armchairs you wanted to get.

He had made a house call when you were miserably sipping at a hot chocolate. Rudy had taught you how to make it, a recipe from Mexico. It was gently spiced and beautifully warming and smooth, but with your current cold you could barely taste it, hence the misery. 

"Y'should really lock the door, I could be a murderer walking in here."

The man who had walked in was tall, in full tactical gear and wearing a balaclava with a skull on it. Probably was a murderer.

"Please put me out of my misery Mr murderer."

You honestly hadn't meant to say that to a complete stranger, but it felt like your head was stuffed with cotton wool instead of grey matter today. Thankfully he only chuckled gruffly instead of fulfilling your request.

"And then where would I get more of whatever tea Johnny brought back to base?"

Johnny. Right, this must be Ghost then. Soap talked about him sometimes, said him, Gaz and Price liked your tea which had made you jump up and down in excitement at the time. Your signature blend had taken you years to get just the way you liked it. Soap had also said something about Ghost having a mask, so you at least assumed this wasn't one of the other two. 

"Oh right, let me get you some to take away with you. Hang on" you said, going to pack some of the leaves up into a little brown bag for him. 

You put it on the counter and then went into the cupboard, grabbing the mug you had gotten in a Halloween sale. It was a white mug in the shape of a ghost, two little eyes on the front. You ladled in some of the hot chocolate from the pot on the stove and put that on the counter as well. 

Ghost watched the whole thing with concealed amusement. He had genuinely come to get some of the tea, he liked the blend and they had run out of what Johnny had brought. But he had also come out of curiosity. It was clear Johnny was fond of you from the way his eyes lit up when he'd tell them all what he had done with you that day whenever he would come back to base. Rudy and Alejandro too when they had been visiting seemed enamoured, tense from mission planning right up until a visit to you would have them coming back relaxed and happy.

Part of him had been hoping to scare you a little showing up the way he had in gear and mask. It was probably because you were clearly sick, but you weren't treating him like something scary. No, you were sluggishly getting him tea and then giving him hot chocolate in a cute little ghost mug.

"You shouldn't be working sick, definitely a health and safety violation."

"Place isn't open yet so not technically working."

"In that case, thanks for the hot chocolate."

When he left, he took off his massive cosy looking jacket and draped it over your shoulders without a word before grabbing the bag of tea and taking off.

--

You tried a bunch of names for the cat and none of them seemed to fit just right. The scrappy little thing started hanging around the place when you started leaving out snacks for it and you found you enjoyed the company. 

The place was nearly ready now, interior cosy and furnished with a bunch of mismatched furniture you had thrifted that somehow managed to match the vibe very well. With the fire going the place glowed just the way you had always dreamt it would, and the way the scent of tea clung pleasantly to the air was more than you could have hoped for. Simon and Soap had helped haul a lot of the furniture, but they had been gone for a month now. You really hoped you would see them again so you could show them the place now, completely transformed from when they last saw it. 

Cosy enough now for this cat to enjoy at least. She even had a favourite spot, one of the wing backed armchairs by the fireplace. 

"How about Binks?" you asked her, currently leaning behind the counter and mulling over a cup of tea. 

In response the cat only yawned and blinked lazily at you. 

"Ok, not Binks then" you laughed, taking a sip and sighing in contentment. Honestly who knew if you'd ever get customers, this place was completely out of the way, but you were proud of what you had created. Dirt poor, but proud. You'd open soon you thought, actually give this a go. 

The cat eventually stretched and padded over to the door, looking over at you expectantly. 

"Alright alright, time for you to go wherever it is you go" you said, going over to open the door and let her out. 

There was a giant on the other side of the door and you all but jumped out of your skin in surprise. The man looked like he had been considering knocking, just as surprised as you were for a moment. Purring broke you both out of your surprise, the cat butting up against the man's legs.

"So this is where you've been getting to Herzogin" he said to the cat, leaning down to give her some scratches which resulted in more purring before she went right back to her spot on the chair, leaving you and the giant stood at the doorway alone.

"Is Herzogin her name? I'm sorry, I thought she was a stray" you said with a slight smile, hoping you hadn't accidentally become a catnapper.

"She is a stray of kinds, the base nearby feeds her sometimes so I got used to having her around is all."

"Oh my God the base! That makes way more sense now, I didn't realise there was something like that nearby."

So that's where all these men had been coming from. You wondered if that meant Ghost, Soap, Rudy and Alejandro weren't stationed there anymore or had been moved. The military wasn't something you understood, but you assumed they must move around a lot. Did they have a home base of sorts? Was it selfish of you to sort of hope the one near you was a home base for them?

"If they had told us about this place we would have visited" the man said as if in apology.

"Oh no don't worry, I'm not actually open yet. I'm just sort of practicing drinks until I work up the nerve" you laughed. "Do you want to try something? I'm best at making tea, but I've been trying out coffees and hot chocolates as well."

You moved to unblock the doorway, inviting him in and telling him your name. He said you could call him König. Luckily this place had high ceilings so he could experience the cosiness without it being cramped for him.

König found the next few hours to be some of the most calming he had experienced in years. He wouldn't deny that he enjoyed the bloodthirst of battle, it gave him a manic energy that suited him. But there was something to be said for letting himself be fully off duty. It was nice to teach you how to make Einspänner, laugh at your pronunciation of it and have you laugh back rather than be nervous around him for his size or his reputation. Sipping his drink by the fire with a cat in his lap and you softly telling him all about your big plans for the place if it started to do well was something he hadn't known he had been yearning for. 

He knew him and the others in Kortac were only here a few more days, the 141 being gracious in allowing them to use their base to lay low while they handled the absolute mess happening in America just now. The whole thing had at least given the teams an uneasy alliance for the time being. Maybe he'd put some effort into keeping that alliance going so he could visit again. 

--

You knew that you should do some sort of advertising for an opening, but the idea was overwhelming. Instead you just quietly popped a little open sign by the door and went about your day as normal. You would probably get nobody coming in because nobody knew this was here and that suited you fine. It felt like once 'opening day' was over and the pressure of it was out of the way, then you could actually seek out customers and not feel like it was as big a deal. 

If zero people showed up your first day then the only direction was up right?

Only two people did show up. Price and Gaz. They had greeted you warmly like you were an old friend, explaining that they knew Soap and Simon who would be home soon but that they wanted to visit themselves. They seemed to like the place which made you happy, both settling in at one of the tables and chatting amicably away with you while you made their tea. 

Herzogin didn't seem to care that there was company, barely even looking to check before curling back up in her spot happily purring away.

Captain Price found he liked this place immediately. It struck him as bordering on fantastical, seeming like a tea shop from a fantasy novel on the inside. It was an hour at a brisk walk to get here but he regretted not making the trip sooner, imagining that any customer who had come once would certainly become a regular regardless of distance. It was a relaxing spot, almost nostalgic feeling. 

For Gaz the place was lovely, but he was more fascinated with you. He had wanted to visit before, had tried to tag along with Ghost and Soap and been denied. He reckoned he probably knew why now, bastards were being selfish and keeping you all to themselves. 

"Is it always so quiet for you on weekdays at this time?" Price asked at some point in the conversation, watching the pretty blush that stained your cheeks with interest.

"Oh well technically, this is the first weekday I've been open at this time. It's actually sort of opening day? I mean I didn't really advertise or anything, I wasn't actually expecting anyone to show up if I'm honest" you replied sheepishly.

"It's a soft open then, just to test everything out yeah?" Gaz said gently.

"I think that's an idea. This can be your soft open and then in a week you can open proper. That way Ghost and Soap can be here for it" Price added.

Both of them were giving you such soft looks that you couldn't help but agree with them, settling on a date in a weeks time for a real opening. When the conversation turned to how you would advertise they had promptly told you not to worry about it with a knowing look to one another.

--

Every seat in the place was taken and the tables and counters were overflowing with sweets and snacks from all over the world. Bukkumi, halva, berlinerkranser, churros, shortbread, teacakes, all brought in for everyone to share. You were so busy making drinks that you didn't even register how ridiculous it was that you were happily hand fed bites of different desserts every so often by whoever happened to be near you when you stopped to fill a cup or mug. 

It was nice to see everyone you had met again and to meet new faces. Herzogin took it all in her stride, figuring out quickly who she liked. You hid a laugh seeing König huff when she curled up in Simon's lap. The official opening was by all accounts an outrageous success and everyone absolutely overpaid on their bills regardless of your efforts to stop them. 

Farah promised to teach you how to make the halva while Horangi swore that the bukkumi would remain a trade secret and you'd just have to hire him next time he was in town to make it for you. Aksel had rolled his eyes at the Korean man and pressed a kiss to your cheek in thanks for taking care of them. Kate smacked Soap upside the head when he immediately made a beeline to give you kisses as well which made you laugh before blushing and pressing a quick peck to his cheek when he pouted about it.

When everybody was finally out of the door you were absolutely exhausted. By the time the sound of the last car leaving faded away you were already done with tidying all the plates and cups away to the sink. You'd deal with the cleaning up tomorrow, you were far too beat to even consider doing it now. Giving Herzogin a kiss on the head after you had gotten ready for bed, you curled up in the chair by the fireplace, crashing out hard almost immediately.

--

"Told you so."

"Ye always have tae be right about everything don't ye LT."

"Alright. Get her in the car would you Sergeant."

"Right-o Captain, we kidnapping damsels now?"

"It's not a bloody kidnapping you cheeky bastard. We're putting her in a proper bed for the night and taking her back in the morning once she's made a bad attempt at explaining herself."

"She can take my room."

After some discussion on that point it was decided that you would indeed take Ghost's room with the reasoning it meant nobody would disturb you. They could hardly put you in one of the empty rooms where anyone might walk in. Everyone who they had invited for the opening was staying at base and they were not about to risk the likes of König or Rudy figuring out you were sleeping under the same roof as them. They'd avoid that for as long as possible.

Tomorrow they'd let you sweat a bit and then tell you in no uncertain terms that you'd be staying with them for the time being until they could build you an extension to your shop with a proper living space. You could pay them back with services/goods of equivalent value after all, and they could think of plenty of ideas for what that looked like.

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Hiii ! Congratulations on the 350 followers !! I love your blog so much you totally deserve it, I’m so happy every time you post a new writing !!

Thank you for tagging me it was so unexpected but I’m truly honoured 🫶🏻. Would you consider doing head cannons for jason x daughter of athena ? Im a cabin six girl and Jason is my fav. If you don’t have time or if you don’t want to write it I completely understand :)

By the way I love all your fics they are AMAZING.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ jason grace x daughter of athena! reader hcs

content: jason grace x daughter of athena! reader hcs warning: i think language???? author's note: YOU!!! MY NUMBER ONE FAN YOU!!! i love love seeing you spam my notifs, it makes me so happy!! so of course i tagged you as a fav, duh!! anyways YOURE AMAZING AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

NERD'S FALLING IN LOVE ALERT

you guys met through leo, strangely enough

jason had been hanging around bunker nine when a goddess walked in-

jk jk jk but that's fr what he thought

you handed off some blueprints to leo, explaining what each one was, getting excited as he bounced ideas off of you

"oh, right, this is jason. jason, y/n," leo introduced with a wave of his hand, walking away as he went to put the blueprints in a special place

"oh! lovely to meet you," you said, offering him your free hand

"y-yeah, same- same here," he stuttered through his sentence, unable to pull his eyes from you.

you breathed out a laugh, ducking your head and turning away from the blonde boy, chewing on your lip as you called your leave

jason stayed put, watching you go, unable to move, breathe, speak-

"dude, don't drool in here. that's gross and also a slipping hazard," leo mocked, though he was growing excited at the prospects of playing matchmaker with piper.

but he didn't need to, as you stomped up to the zeus cabin the next morning during breakfast

jason had been sitting there, lonely as could be, passively reading some history book chiron had lent to him while chewing away at an apple

"hey, jason, i was just- oh my gods, i love that book!" you cheered, your thoughts getting cut off as you noticed the book in his hand

jason jumped, his eyes instantly darting up to you in a panic, his heart working double time

"what chapter are you on?? it gets so good after five," you rambled, leaning towards the boy with an excited glimmer in your eyes that jason was rapidly falling in love with

"just finished five. it's gets better than that?" he questioned, attempting a joke and earning giggles from you.

his new favorite prize

all good love stories start with the bonding over a wwii book, duh!!

then, you guys started trading books

you gave him one about architecture that annabeth had gifted to you and he gave you one on aerodynamics leo had given to him as a joke

you guys traded books for a few weeks until you came up to him, meeting at the previously declared trading spot, though this time the book was clutched to your chest

"okay okay, so...i- i annotated this one. for, uh, for you," you muttered, holding the book out to him.

jason beamed a soft smile, taking it from your hands like it was the finest gold.

"that was very sweet, y/n," mused jason, which left both of you blushing

you quickly stole his book from him and marched away

jason was eager to read the book, shooing away everyone so he could lay in his cabin the whole day and read what you had to say about the book

naturally, the highlighter and tabs were color coded, a little legend in your handwriting at the start of the book

this was the most jason ever smiled while reading a damn book and it was because of you

he finished the damn thing in one day, refusing to stop until he was done

the very last annotation had jason jumping out of his bed and racing out of his cabin in search of you

there, on the last page, in light blue pen it read, "now, when are you going to catch on that i like you and ask me on a date, jason grace?"

it did it a lightening fast speed, finding you and the words to ask you on a date falling out of his lips

you just smirked up at him, nodding your head in agreement

athena always has a plan, right?

typically, most dates consist of you and jason hanging out in his cabin and reading

sometimes you sit in jason's lap, or you guys are just next to each other, or you guys are other sides of the cabin

it doesn't really matter as long as youre together

when you guys take snack breaks, you explain everything that's happened in your books since the last snack break

jason made you a bookmark, putting his own sketches on there of an owl and an eagle

you called him cheesy but also haven't been seen without it since soooo

you like to steal jason's glasses away, putting them on your face as he tries to take them back

"now im gonna finish my book first! ha!" you cheer, snatching his glasses and taking rapid steps to the other side of the cabin

"get back here!! this is ableist!!" he calls after you, trying his best to find you with his blurry vision

you gently put them back on his face after he catches you in his arms, planting a soft kiss to his lips

"hmmm. you look better as a blurry blob," he smirks, the look on his face giving away that he doesn't mean a word of it

"looks like i'll just have to steal them away again," you tease hands inching closer to the glasses again only for jason to swat you hands away

you guys are a pair of nerds together, but the cutest pair of nerds to like every nerd fr fr

[brynalyn]

DUNGEON MESHI HEADCANON (spoilers)

I loved the comic Ryoko kui did where falin finally responds to Toshiro’s proposal. Given that, I’ve thought about it and think it would be so so cute if they kept up a penpal relationship…. He could pen her romantic pining letters and she can info dump about her life exploring and also her love with marcille!! And he’s cool with it he thinks she’s fascinating and an incredible person :) Actually let’s go all the way, I totally ship them in a poly relationship where falins main partner is marcille and then she’s also dating shuro long distance primarily through letter writing. Maybe she will visit him someday!

I actually think Toshiro really likes falin for who she is, a bug loving weirdo. He seemed to fall in love when he saw how she looked at the worm in the dungeon - i think in the beginning he had a ‘manic pixie dream girl’ unrealistic view of her for a short time, but i think he doesn’t feel that way anymore and sees her as a complex independent person! he handled the rejection really well and realized it wasn’t in her nature to get tied down. I could really see how he’s grown as much as any of the other characters from someone who couldn’t handle not doing things the proper way (he was so awkward he just proposed to her instead of trying to have the relationship progress naturally - I think he felt like that was the “proper” way to express his feelings) to someone who laughed and smiled when rejected by the girl he likes, who eventually ends up supporting the guy who caused him so much trouble bc of their communication issues. That’s huge growth! Anyways yeah I love Toshiro he grows so much through the story and also helps laios and even falin grow as they wrestle with their relationships with him (laios LITERALLY wrestling with him abt it lmao)

[sadhours]

Best friend Billy coming over to find you touching yourself and moaning his name. Lots of teasing and domination please!! Love your work❤️❤️

Thank you so much!! This was a joy to write :)

warnings: 18+ minors dni, just smut baby, well it gets fluffy in the end, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected, I never write safe sex with Billy it’s impossible for me

He doesn’t even knock at this point. What’s the point when you gave him a key? He remembers you showing up to the record shop a week after you moved in and walked over to the counter, sliding it across the top with a grin.

“What’s this?” he asked intrigued as he stared down at the brass key.

You’d shrugged, “Figure you should have a copy.”

“So, we’re that close, now?” he teased as he picked the key up between his fingers and inspected it.

You mocked offense, clutching your chest, “I was under the impression we were.”

You two had met the first day of classes, freshmen year and became quick friends. Billy was studying to become a marine biologist and you’d been undecided at the time. Until your dear old Pa talked you into majoring in Business and while you and Billy didn’t have any classes in common after the third semester, you two still hung out every opportunity you could. The thing was, Billy was pining the entire time. But not like he usually did over most women. You guys got along too well and for some reason, he assumed that meant you weren’t interested. So Billy didn’t make a move. And now you guys were set to graduate in only a month away. He felt like it was too late, you’d become best friends and he was scared to risk ruining that. He’d never been so close to another person.

He unlocks your front door with the key you’d given him and sets down the dinner he’d bought for you guys on the counter before descending down the hall to find you. As he gets close to your bedroom, the door is open barely an inch and he can hear panting and moaning. His body freezes, automatically assuming you had a guy over and feels like an idiot for not calling before he came over. His head tells him to turn around and leave before he sees anything he doesn’t want to. But he only hears your voice and he’s unable to move his feet.

“Oh, god,” you moan out, breathlessly, “Billy…”

His eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up as he feels his dick twitch in his pants. There’s no fucking way. You must’ve met some dude with the same name.

“Billy!” it sounds like a desperate cry and he can’t help himself. He pushes the door open just enough for him to see you sprawled across your mattress, legs spread with two fingers buried in yourself. Your eyes are closed tight, your hand squeezing your breast where you’d haphazardly pushed your shirt up just enough to expose yourself. Your pale pink panties are hooked around one ankle and Billy’s mouth goes dry at the sight.

“Just like that, Billy,” you pant and he stands there in the doorway like a total creep, just watching.

Your back arches and he steps inside, tripping over your backpack and catching himself on your desk but the force of his hand on the wood knocks your cup full of pens over. Your eyes fly open and you see your best friend scrambling to pick up the mess.

“Billy!” you squeal, shoving your shirt over your tits as you sit up and close your legs, “Jesus Christ!”

“M’sorry,” he mumbles, his cheeks red as he turns back to you.

“How long have you been here?” you ask, apprehensively.

“Uh… long enough,” he scratches the back of his neck and your eyes fall to see the bulge in his jeans.

You chew on your bottom lip, “So you… you heard…”

“You moaning my name?” he offers, walking closer.

“Oh god,” you collapse on your bed, covering your face.

He chuckles then and you feel the weight of him sitting on the bed. “Were you touching yourself, thinking of me?”

“Shut up!” you grumble, white hot embarrassment radiating through your stomach and chest.

Billy taps his fingers along your thigh, “You didn’t have to stop.”

“Yes, I did,” you mumble, pulling your hand away just enough to see the blonde looking down at you.

“Keep going,” he insists, voice stern but you can hear the arousal dripping off it.

“Billy, I—“

“I said,” he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand back down between your legs, “keep going.”

And while you’re mortified that he’s caught you, you really didn’t want to stop anyways and you were imaging it was his fingers inside you… so you listen, starting slow like you did before he was here. Rubbing slow, broad circles against your clit as you look into his eyes.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs and you now understand why he had a fucking fan club, girls that wouldn’t leave him along after he’d fucked then. “You’ve been wanting my cock for a long time, haven’t you?”

You reply with a whimper, quickening the pace of your fingers while he watches you, eyes raking over you. He taps your cheek, “I asked you a question. Answer me.”

“Billy…”

“Answer me,” he presses, grabbing a hold of your jaw and turning your face to look at him.

“Yes…” you pant out, “Since that first day…”

Billy pouts then, “Aw, poor baby. Been dying for my cock for three years.”

You want to roll your eyes, make some comment about how ‘dying’ was an exaggeration but you’d be lying to him and yourself.

“Tell me what you thinking about,” he demands, propping himself between your legs but he doesn’t touch you, just sits back and watches.

You squirm, face flushing at the instruction. This was way out of your comfort zone. You’d never had much dirty talking in the bedroom. But you’re not surprised that it seems to be in Billy’s toolbox. He always had such a mouth on him and maybe if you do what he says, you can get that mouth on you.

“Your fingers,” you pant out, struggling to form the images into words, “Inside me… you kissing my neck, you telling me I’m…”

You can’t say it, the words slip back up into your head and your lips tingle.

“Telling you what?” his voice is so steady it almost pisses you off. You worry for a second this is some sick game and he’s gonna laugh in your face and tell you he’d never fuck you in a million years.

“Come on,” he drawls, pressing his hands to your thighs, “answer the question.”

“Telling me I’m a slut,” you finally get out, closing your eyes tight so you won’t see his reaction.

His fingers squeeze the flesh of your thighs while a pleased groan comes from his chest. Then he says, “Well you are one. A filthy, little slut.”

You can’t help but slip your fingers inside your aching hole, the sound of it is obscene and Billy tsks.

“Look at you, so fucking drenched at the thought of me,” he says, “You must be soaking through your panties whenever you see me.”

He sounds a little surprised but you tell yourself if this was a cruel joke, he would’ve ended this by now. You think maybe he’s about to when he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away from between your legs. But instead, he brings your fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Mm,” he hums, “you taste so sweet.”

“Billy…” you whine and he lowers his head between your legs, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit. Your back arches with it, hands gripping the rustled bedspread beneath you. He rolls his tongue through your folds, drawing a deep, desperate cry from your lips. The reality of this sets in. You’ve been wanting Billy in this way for so long and you almost can’t believe it’s actually happening.

“Billy,” you gasp as you sit up.

He sits on his heels and looks at you, “Yeah?”

“Oh, god. You just.. licked my pussy.”

He laughs softly at that, “Yeah, don’t you want me to?”

You nod frantically, “Yeah, I really do… I just.. I-”

Billy rolls his eyes but his smile is playful. He pushes you back onto your back and says, “Then let me do it. Stop thinking so much.”

“Okay,” you sigh and bite your lip while he lowers himself back down. He’s right. You’ve been wanting this forever, you can’t fuck it up now that his heads between your legs.

Billy spreads your lips with his fingers as he continues licking through your folds. He's like… really good at it. You can’t help but compare him to every person who’s ever eaten you out and he’s even better than the girlfriends you’ve had, and they were rocking with the same equipment.

“Billy,” you pant his name out, tangling your fingers in his curls as his tongue prods at your hole. Jesus, his tongue is thick and strong. He can never seem to keep it in his mouth and now you don’t want him to. He licks back up to your clit but is quick to slip a digit inside of you. He curls it and you whimper, feeling your eyes cross a bit at the sensation. He sucks at your clit as he slips in a second finger, which stretches you more than your own fingers could.

“Fuck,” you groan and feel Billy hum around your bundle of nerves, which feels incredible. He keeps sucking but takes moments to pull back and lick against it eagerly. Each time he does so, he curls his fingers and drags them against your g-spot. You flutter around him, pulling at his hair as you peer down to get a glimpse of him at work. The sight of it is almost better than how it feels. His eyelashes are thick and pretty but not as pretty as the blue eyes underneath them that meet yours. You’ve imagined this a hundred times but it doesn’t compare to the real thing.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn him to which he adds a third finger and quickens his pace.

Your orgasm crashes into you, flooding you senses as your body seizes and then shakes against the mattress. Billy’s moaning against your pussy, the vibrations just prolonging the waves of it. He keeps licking you through it, when it’s finished, he’s still licking and you have to push him away. You sit up and grab onto his shirt, pulling him up so you can start undressing him. First, you peel his shirt up and over his head but your fingers shake when you get to his jeans, fumbling with the button. You hear as he kicks his boots off and then he takes over where your fingers were, popping the button undone and unzipping them in one fluid motion. When he gets his jeans down his legs, you’re not surprised to see there’s no underwear beneath, he’s bragged about going commando several times. Neither of you aware of the implication or desire from the comment.

“Fuck me,” you beg and he smirks down at you.

“My mouth wasn’t enough, huh?” he says, huskily as he pins you against the mattress, hands on your arms. “Or are you just a greedy slut?”

“Need your cock,” you explain, writhing against him. His body feels warm against yours and the contours of his muscles feel amazing.

He tsks, licking against your jaw, “So greedy.”

Billy gets a grip of his cock, strokes it a few times before he’s sliding the tip though your folds.

“Fuck me,” you whine out, again and he looks down at you with this.. arrogant expression.

“What if I don’t?” he challenges.

God, he’s such a prick but you fucking love it.

“Please,” you plead, voice all fucked and desperate, “I need it so bad.”

He bites his lip before he pouts, pushing your hair off your forehead, “Of course you do. Poor baby.”

You whimper, grabbing onto his hips as he rolls yours up to get some friction. He grits his teeth as your pussy rubs against the shaft of his cock, “Brat. You want me to fuck you, huh? Fuck you so hard until you’re crying?”

You moan, you’d told him in confidence that sometimes you couldn’t help but crying after sex. Of course he remembered that and he’d use it now. You totally believed he had the ability to bring it out of you, too.

“Please, Billy…”

He guides his tip down and circles it against your entrance, “You think you deserve it? Been a good girl?”

“I’m a good girl,” you babble out, already on the verge of tears from desperation.

“You’re my good girl, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “All yours, Billy.”

He slides inside you at that, quickly bottoming out, totally flush against you. It’s eternally satisfying, you’ll never in your life forget how he fits inside you so perfectly, the slight curve of his cock is like it was made just to fit you. You ponder on the possibility that he’s your soulmate for a brief moment, that is until he snaps his hips back and forth and every thought in your head dissolves into static.

“Jesus,” he presses his forehead to yours, “So fucking tight and warm…”

His breath ghosts your lips and you remember that you’ve never kissed him before which seems wrong now that his dick is buried deep inside you. You’ve thought about kissing him far more than you've thought him fucking you. So you grab onto the back of his head and crash your lips together, you can taste yourself but you don’t care. He moans into the kiss before sliding his tongue between your lips and licks into your mouth. The kiss isn’t how you expected your first one to go, it’s sloppy and open mouthed as you two pant into it. You’re both too focused on the way his cock drags in and out of your core, your walls gripping him each time he pulls back.

“Billy,” you whine out as he breaks the kiss, missing the way he tastes but liking the view of his face. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his mouth hung open while he pants out. He’s sweaty, skin almost slick with it while you smooth your hands all over his arms and back.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he notes, voice wrecked.

You moan out his name again and you’d almost feel self conscious about how much you’re saying it if you didn’t feel so close on the brink of your second orgasm.

“I’m close,” you tell him, scratching down his back.

Billy crashes his lips against yours, pumping his hips at neck breaking speed as he urges you along to bliss. He thrusts particularly hard and it send you over the edge, eyes crossing as it rips through you almost violently. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly close as you thrash around through your brutal climax. Billy grunts, burying his face in your neck as you feel his own orgasm shooting deep inside you, filling you up. And he was right, you’re crying from it. Almost sobbing at you hold on tightly to him. He kisses all over your neck, jaw and then face, pushing your hair back as he tries to catch his breath.

“Fuck, Billy,” you breathe.

“I love you,” he blurts out and you both widen your eyes at the statement.

“Fuck, I mean… I…” he stutters and you kiss him softly.

“I love you, too,” you smile.

[alovelessmelancholy]

OMG LISTEN.

I THINK BOTH NIGHTTIME SCENES ARE REAL.

Update: HEY! I was totally wrong! But read this anyway if you want just for funsies😂

Someone said that one scene is Colin’s “do over” in a sense. (I heard this idea somewhere, I can't remember exactly but let me say that I’m not trying to steal anyone’s intellectual property or anything like that, just agreeing/elaborating on it). I think that’s absolutely what happens, but at the time Colin doesn’t realize it.

I think Pen is crying in the original scene we were given (sitting at her window thinking and then later when Colin discovers her in the garden) because Colin has continued to give her mixed signals (him watching her touch her mouth at the fair tent, telling her “don’t forget you’re Penelope Featherington”, all his longing looks and being his usual idiotic “I don’t know how hot I am being with Pen” self because he doesn’t realize that she secretly loves him. You know, just another Tuesday when Colin is around.)

ANYWAY, she is crying so he comes to console her and she decides then to let him go - what she was agonizing over while thinking at her window because she can’t come back from it if she decides to marry someone else. Colin likely (stupidly!) says something that solidifies her resolve to move on (“You can do it FRIEND, go find your husband!”)

SO she does just that, which means no kiss during this scene despite all the wishes that they would- me included .

Pen moves on while Colin is still helping her to dig his own hole to fall into, encouraging her to accept Debling's suit (DERP)

Colin finally comes to his senses and sees that he 💚LOVES PENELOPE FEATHERINGTON💚 for fuck sake (the beautiful symbolism with the candles OMG I love that but HURRY UP MAN your candle is LIT🕯). Listen to your mother and kiss your friend on the mouth.

By this time Debling may or may not have proposed, but based on Portia’s reaction about what a GOOD GIRL Pen is for landing a Lord as a potential husband, we should assume that all things are pointing in that direction. Colin has picked up on this too, and he has probably made attempts to end their attachment - maybe in some funny ways that make him look like a fool (yes please), maybe a few not so funny ways (he is STURDY now as if anyone could forget that fact but we'll hope he keeps his boxing gloves off - just for now.) 🔥 We DO know that Colin got visibly upset about Debling talking to Pen, so much so that he looked like wanted to do something about it.

SO now we come to the second nighttime scene where Colin put on the Regency Gentleman signal or whatever he had to do to get Pen to come into the garden. This is the do-over part, where he has been doing his own pining, thinking, CRYING (I cannot convey to you how much I love Teary-Eyed-Colin, he’s so gorgeous and vulnerable). He either shows up in tears and tells Pen he loves her, don’t marry Debling or he sees her crying and it makes him cry. She might confess that she was never going to marry Debling,”BECAUSE HE ISN'T YOU, COLIN.”🥺 I imagine her saying this and then…longing look number eight leads to a first kiss/extra-spicy encounter beyond just looks and hand touches. 🔥🔥

Maybe they break some patio furniture if we’re lucky.😏

UPDATE: Well I obviously had this all wrong! Ep2 confirmed REAL and a kiss ( just like RMB but outdoors 🥰) And the foggy one was. confirmed as a dream, so we can assume this is what wakes Colin up in a hot sweat 🥵

JUST LET ME HAVE THE SEASON.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Oliver and His Company

[A/N: This can be read as a standalone, but if you want context on Aaron & reader’s relationship, find their story here and here! Enjoy 🖤]

4 times Aaron Hotchner refused to admit that he’s a cat person…

1) A Spicy Upgrade

“I swear, Em, it was like an out of body experience,” you tell your best friend through the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you balance grocery bags in one hand and fish your keys out of your pocket with the other.

“So everything was just backwards?” Emily laughs.

“Yes!” you cry, equal parts miffed by your dream and excited to have somehow slotted the key into the lock in the correct orientation without looking. “Pen was, like, fifty shades of beige, and everyone else was super bright and colorful! Hotch was wearing a suit worthy of Elle Woods herself,” you assert.

“I would pay a stupid amount of money to see that,” your best friend snickers. “Can we please get him a pink suit?”

“Not gonna lie, he looked pretty hot,” you muse quietly as you shuffle down the hall to the kitchen. “I’ll work on…that…”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately, sorry to have worried her. “Just found my man in an interesting position. Call you later, love you, bye,” you rush out in a whisper, ending the call and snapping a photo for your personal album before the opportunity disappears. Clearing your throat, you place the last of the grocery bags on the counter with a solid thud. “Whatcha doin’ down there?”

Aaron’s answer is muffled given the fact his head is currently in the spice cabinet, the rest of his tall form tucked under him, ass comically up in the air for better leverage. You bend down with a groan and open the adjacent cabinet to pop your head in, meeting his sheepish smile and reddening cheeks. Pressing your lips to his, you murmur, “I didn’t quite get that.“

“I said-” He pauses to capture your lips in another sweet kiss, and the butterflies that have taken up residence in your belly since the first day you met Aaron Hotchner stir to life. “I read online that it’s easier for cats to open doors with handles than knobs, so I’m fixing all the doors before you move in.”

“You’re what?” You bump your head against the top of the cabinet in shock, letting out a harsh curse that you’re glad Jack isn’t around to hear.

“Oh, honey,” Aaron tuts softly, unfolding himself from his spot to help you out and delicately rubbing the tender area on the back of your head.

“You- by yourself- you’re swapping out every single handle in this house for Oliver?” You don’t mean to sound incredulous, but there’s no way this man is real. Then again, he bought this house six months into your relationship so that you could each have an office space and ample room for Jack and one or two additional little Hotchners to grow up- although he hadn’t divulged the latter part of that plan to you when he gifted you a key.

“I know it sounds ridiculous-”

“No,” you cut him off immediately, molding your palms against his cheeks to pull him in for a kiss, your lips quirking up in a victorious grin. “It sounds like something a loving cat dad would do.”

Aaron scoffs before muttering, “Just don’t want him getting stuck, that’s all.”

“Right,” you draw out the word, one eyebrow raised playfully. “Totally not cause you’re a cat person. And that’s why I spotted an empty box sporting a picture of a cat tree as tall as you in the garage?”

“I never said I dislike cats, I’m just a dog guy!” Aaron insists, his words falling on deaf ears as you playfully hum a tune from The Aristocats while arranging the groceries in the fridge and he returns to his project.

2) A Sleepy Surprise

Toeing your shoes off in the mud room, you call out, “Boys? I’m home!” The novelty of getting to say those words has yet to wear off even though the last of your moving boxes are piled up on the curb, waiting to be recycled.

There’s no answering pitter patter of feet in the hallway nor voices greeting your arrival, but the sneakers lined up next to yours- one large pair in understated colors, one much smaller pair with Darth Vader on one shoe and Luke Skywalker on the other- tell you your little family is definitely home. You place your car keys on their designated hook before making your way down the hall, pausing at the threshold of the living room with a smile on your face at the sight before you.

Aaron’s lying on his back, his tall form taking up the entire length of the couch, with Jack tucked into his side and an orange ball of fur curled up on his chest, rising and falling with each peaceful breath of his. You let out a content sigh, warmth blooming in your chest from the overwhelming sense of comfort and love these three have brought into your life. Holding your hair back so it doesn’t tickle your darling boy’s face, you press a delicate kiss to his cheek and his mouth turns upward for the briefest of moments. Then you nuzzle your nose against the soft fur between your cat’s ears, and he stirs with a half-hearted chirp before curling up even tighter on his literal man-made bed.

“You’re home,” Aaron murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whisper with a guilty pout, carding your fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to make dinner.”

He grabs your hand before you can get too far, and you turn back to find just who exactly Jack inherited the puppy dog eyes from. “We can order in tonight. Stay with me?”

You gesture to the full couch and ask, “Where?”

Aaron tips his chin down to see Oliver purring contentedly on his chest, and he taps his head until the cat sits up with bleary eyes. “You’re in your mom’s spot.”

You stifle a laugh as your cat pointedly yawns in your boyfriend’s face, then takes his time using Aaron’s solid body to stretch before flouncing away in search of a bed with less attitude. Aaron looks up at you with a self-satisfied grin and pats the newly vacated space. Shaking your head as you ease yourself down to lay across his body, you chide, “That was mean.”

“Never too young to learn about sharing,” he pontificates.

“Mm, yes, what a poignant lesson from father to son,” you respond, voice muffled against Aaron’s chest.

“Step-cat, at best. And don’t you even say it- I’m not a cat person.”

“Sure, babe.”

3) A New Purr-spective

“Jack-Jack,” you call out with a knock against the doorframe to get the little Hotchner’s attention. He looks up from his latest art project with a smile and says, “Yeah?”

“Daddy washed your uniform so you’re all set for tomorrow’s game. And I wanted to ask you about…this,” you offer hesitantly, flipping the shirt in your hands around so he can see Hotchner displayed at the top and the number matching his jersey. “Would it be okay if I wore this so we can match?”

“Does Daddy have one, too?” His excitement- and nonchalance about you sporting their last name- has relief flooding through you, and you mirror his eager smile.

“Of course! Except his is even cooler cause it says ‘Coach’ on the front,” you respond with a click of your teeth. “I made one for Uncle Dave, too!”

“Awesome. You’re the best!” Jack proclaims.

“No, you are.”

“Nu uh, you,” he insists.

“Nope! You!” You let the word be drawn out as you make your escape down the hall, peals of laughter from Jack’s room echoing behind you.

“I have received official approval to wear my shirt,” you announce as you cross into the master bedroom, only to find the space empty. You can hear Aaron’s voice in hushed tones from the walk-in closet, so you approach quietly thinking that he’s on the phone.

“…not exactly your textbook psychopath, right?” He pauses, then continues, “Right. So there must be a piece of the profile we’re missing, something that explains the evolution of the kills with the alarming disorganization of the crime scenes. Do you think we could be dealing with two unsubs?”

Aaron’s phone is on the bedside table, and he’s using both hands to wrestle one of his dress shirts onto a hanger. Then, you spot his silent partner- Oliver’s sitting in his bed, in the nook that Aaron built into the closet for him, languidly cleaning his paws as your boyfriend theorizes aloud.

“So,” you start, crossing your arms and leaning against the wide doorframe, “you still maintain that you’re not a cat person?”

You can see the back of Aaron’s neck turning red at having been caught, but he studiously carries on putting the clean laundry away. Without turning to face you, he asserts, “I’m just… using him as a soundboard. Animals are excellent judges of character.”

“Congratulations, Ollie,” you offer proudly to your son, “you’re the very first cat to join the Behavioral Analysis Mew-nit.”

“Now that’s bad, even for you,” Aaron chuckles, and you bark out a, “Hey!” with faux umbrage. “When are you going to admit you love this cat?”

“I do love this cat,” your boyfriend counters, finally turning to face you. He curls his arm around your waist to pull you against him and speaks between kisses dotted along your nose and cheeks, “I’m just not a cat person.”

Smoothing your hands across his chest with playfully narrowed eyes, you mutter, “The Hotchner doth protest too much, methinks.”

4) Paw-sitively Whipped

“Bedtime, my little bubbas,” you raise your voice to be heard over the churning of the dishwasher as it starts up, drying your hands on a towel while you walk into the living room. Jack is sprawled out on the floor, flicking a feather toy on a stick back and forth that has Ollie frantically giving chase. You’re honestly not sure which little guy is more entertained by the game. “But I’m helping Oliver get his exercise! Daddy says he’s looking chunky lately,” Jack negotiates.

You and your cat turn to Aaron in unison, the man in question suddenly engrossed in an article on his phone. “Daddy’s lawyer genes certainly passed on to you, huh, Jack?” The little Hotchner grins proudly up at you in response, but even that sweet face doesn’t break your resolve. “C’mon, my love, we left off at a really good cliffhanger last night, remember?”

“You’re right,” Jack gasps, suddenly inspired to get ready for bed. “I’ll be ready in two minutes!”

“Make it three- you need to brush your teeth for a full two, Jack,” Aaron calls as he zooms past you to his bathroom.

“Okay!”

“Alright, Weight Watchers,” you snort, tweaking Aaron’s nose while he looks up at you sheepishly, “who’s on reading duty tonight?”

“I’ve got it,” he declares, tugging on your hand to guide you into his open lap. You settle against him with a sigh, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and pressing lazy kisses to his skin. Aaron turns his head to capture your lips in a sweet kiss that quickly grows more heated, and you let out a whimper when he cups the back of your neck to hold you more firmly to him until Jack’s little voice rings out down the hall.

“I’m ready for bed!”

“And that’s your cue, Daddy,” you laugh, patting his chest fondly before detaching yourself from him.

“We’ll pick this up later,” he declares in a murmur, and you can’t resist a smack to his shapely ass before parting ways in the hall.

You run through your own nightly routine, then make your way back to Jack’s room to say goodnight. You find Aaron with his son settled on his lap as he reads, and Ollie is settled on his favorite boy’s lap, purring up a storm. Your boyfriend is absentmindedly scratching his chin, pausing only to turn to the next page in the book. Then Aaron shifts to hold the book with both hands, and Ollie bats at his arm until he relents and resumes petting him. He looks up to find you standing in the doorway, the ghost of a smirk twitching at your lips, and you mouth, You are so a cat person.

He smiles back and shakes his head in response, refusing to give in.

…and the 1 time he finally did.

When you open the front door, you’re surprised to find the house dark. Given your shared line of work and healthy dose of paranoia, you and Aaron always leave at least one light on when the house is empty. But then you hear Jack giggle, “She’s coming!” and Aaron quietly shushing him, and a smile graces your face at whatever adorable surprise awaits you.

You flip on the light to find the foyer decorated with balloons dancing across the ceiling and streamers hanging down, each one adorned with pictures of you and Aaron, you and Jack, and your little family together. Your eyes immediately well up with tears seeing all the memories you’ve created and thinking about all the love you’ve been blessed with thanks to this family.

You walk through, awestruck, touching the Polaroids and printed pictures as you pass them. By the time you reach the living room and your eyes settle on Aaron with Jack standing pressed against his leg, your little boy holding your cat in his arms, you’re damn near sobbing.

“This is why you sent me to get my nails done, huh?” you ask through a half sniffle, half laugh. “You boys certainly were busy.”

Aaron smiles at you and holds out his free hand, and you grab onto him like a lifeline, letting him pull you in before bending down to press a flurry of kisses along Jack’s squishy cheeks. Ollie lets out a squeak of protest in the same timbre as Jack’s ticklish giggle, and you relent your attack with a pleased grin.

“Jack has a very important question to ask you,” Aaron murmurs, then winks at his son.

Jack raises Ollie up as high as he can, not unlike the scene out of The Lion King, and a glint of light flashes at you from your cat’s collar.

“Aaron,” you breathe out, moments before Jack excitedly asks, “Will you marry us, Y/N?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer softly, looking up at Aaron as if he hung all the stars in the sky to find your adoring gaze reflected in his eyes.

—————

Lying in bed that night tangled up between the sheets and Aaron’s legs, you absentmindedly trail your fingers across his chest and muse, “Mighty interesting that a vehemently self-proclaimed not cat person would use a cat to propose, isn’t it?”

“You’re still on this, hm?” he murmurs from above you, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Merely making an observation,” you answer back lazily, then roll over until you body is nestled between his legs, your hands pressed against his chest so you can look at him directly. “I lied, I’m still on this,” you concede with a playful grin. “Look me in my eyes and tell me you’re not a cat person, Aaron Hotchner.”

He hums, then leans up to capture your lips in a series of soft, slow kisses that nearly make you forget your name, let alone the challenge you’ve posed. “Can’t do that, honey,” he finally admits between pecking your lips.

“Cause you are!”

He laughs, his fingers ghosting up and down your spine. Aaron notices you shiver under his touch and pulls the sheets up higher on your body while you settle against the warmth and security of his broad chest. “Honestly, I have been since day one.”

“Oh yeah?” You attempt to goad him, but your sass come out muffled thanks to your lips pressed to his skin.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly as if you haven’t been lovingly arguing about this for over a year now. “He was your cat, and I’m a you person.”

Pushing against him to stretch up and level him with a raised eyebrow, you clarify, “Wait. He was my cat?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Now Ollie’s ours.”

“Everybody thinks you’re such a hardass, but you’re really a big teddy bear, Aaron,” you tease before pressing your lips to his.

“I’m admittedly both,” he concedes with a chuckle, pausing to kiss you again before adding, “and a reformed cat person.”

—————

[A/N: I absolutely adored writing these two and I enjoyed getting to sprinkle in a healthy dose of cat puns 😂 Thank you all for reading!]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you have any recs where Derek is absolutely in love with stiles but, stiles is completely oblivious? If you know any other fics like that but a different ship I'll take those too!

Yeeeesss!

Hindsight (Ok yeah, it all makes sense now) by Eternalsterek24

(1/1 I 3,269 I Teen)

In hindsight, Stiles should have recognized that the pack was keeping something from him. The problem, though, was that when you have weird friends, you don’t think anything of it when they act weird. 

Game On by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 6,391 I Teen)

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

Show Me The Way Back Home Baby by stilinskisparkles 

(1/1 I 14,968 I Teen)

In which Lydia and Jackson produce the world's cutest baby, and the pack goes crazy-- the good kind of crazy. Except for Derek, who is afraid of tiny cute babies and Stiles who plans to be the best Uncle ever. Even if Danny called dibs on Godfather.

Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell

(5/5 I 35,458 I Mature)

Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.

To Build a Pack by Arieanna

(9/? I 53,294 I Mature)

Derek feels a pull in his chest, and it's a pack bond to Stiles. He thought the young man had betrayed him along with Scott, but finding out the truth, he makes Stiles a part of his pack. Now, with the pack coming together in a healthy way, they help Stiles discover that he's not just a sidekick, but a major player, and more important than Scott had ever given him credit for.

The more Derek pulls Stiles into the pack as his second, though, the harder it is to ignore the feelings that he's been having for the boy since they met. Stiles, on the other hand, has fallen out of love with Lydia, and can't figure out just why that happen

All the Weird Kids (Know How to Take it Slow) by Ionaonie

(26/26 I 112,477 I General)

Stiles never thought being part of a werewolf Pack would end up being so normal. Even being around Derek had a degree of normality about it. Even if he was still an overbearing jerk most of the time.

run and hide by whiry

(36/36 I 174,966 I Teen)

"Unlike Derek, Stiles still remembers the first time they met. He remembers the confusion at the pull in his chest, tugging him to the boy with big ears and light eyes. He’d been in the grocery store with his mother and Derek with his, and they had all been minding their business, but Stiles had a niggling in the back of his head directing him toward Derek. And when their eyes met for the first time? Stiles’ heart about exploded. He remembers grabbing his chest and gasping and his mother running over and Derek’s mother running over. The boys didn’t even say anything, and poor Derek looked so confused, and Talia and Claudia simply looked at their boys, looked at each other, and immediately set up a time to meet. And that was how it started."

or, stiles and derek suck at being mates, a new threat comes to town, and stiles has to desperately try to save everything he's ever loved from total destruction all while trying to get through his sophomore year unscathed.

[bitchsister]

i've been picturing this for quite some time - bucky and gale casually having a convo over work/random stuff, bucky ignoring curt who's desperately humping his thigh and whining like a cat in heat? they've been arguing over stuff (mostly it's curt's being a brat as always) and ignoring each other (with gale stuck in the middle of it) for almost a week? but of course curt couldn't bear any longer without bucky's touch, feeling so empty not having bucky's cock in him so he jumped on bucky every chance he got pitifully lol. maybe bucky winning the idgaf war for the first few tries 😈 and eventually curt won and bucky give it to him HARD

I literally took this and rrraaaaaaannnnn with it.

I’m sorry (not).

Once again, I went insane.

If you’re not locked in for this shit, do not read: Desperation, Bucky has some unsavory coping mechanisms when it comes to his anger, lowkey watersports that lasts two seconds (oop), Eiffel Tower ish, more butt plug action

I HAVE to start making these a little shorter lmaoooo

I hardly proof read this. Pls love me.

💘

It was torture.

Curt had royally fucked up, and he knew it but had been doing everything under the sun besides apologizing to get Bucky back in his good graces while Gale sat quietly in the middle and watched it all unfold.

A bad driver, yes, but worse after a joint and a bong rip.

Bucky let him borrow the Range Rover to run errands across town while he and Gale stayed back to work on their docket and finalize their defense — it was crunch time for them and things had become beyond stressful, John’s usual laid back demeanor becoming far more ridged and on edge.

“At least it ain’t totaled!” Curt threw his arms up once Bucky had scooped him from the auto shop in his Jeep, his nostrils flared as he drove and bit his tongue. He had too much to think about, too much on his mind. Curt and his antics had to take a backseat until he and Gale could tie up their loose ends.

Curtis couldn’t give in though, feeling like a puppy with its tail between its legs. There was no scolding, but the silence was almost worse. “C’mon..” he scurried after Bucky who neglected to open Curt’s door for him, or kiss him like he usually did when they pulled into the driveway.

“It’s hardly a dent!”

The entire fender had fallen off.

With no choice but to let it rest, Curt moped around. He listened to music in his usual spot, he draped himself over a flamingo float in the pool, naked as the day he was born with a pink sunburn on his ass. He sunbathed bare, he sat by the window in only his underwear, he sucked on popsicles that stained his lips red.

He’d caught Gale’s glance a couple times, but not Bucky’s.

Don’t you dare look at him, Gale.

He’s just — he’s so —

He’s a fuckin’ brat is what he is. He’s cost me ten grand because he’s a fucking stoner who can’t drive. We have work to do.

At night, Curt would fall asleep before Bucky would ever get into bed. Some nights he’d even fallen asleep on the couch in his study once Gale managed to wake himself up enough to drive home, unable to ignore the texts Curt had eventually sent to him after three days of it.

Please tell him to talk to me.

Does he hate me?

Should I leave?

Yes, Bucky was pissed off but it was something he simply needed to get out of his system, and that couldn’t happen when all they’d been doing was discussing risk assessments and trial evidence.

He’ll come around, Curt.

Just wait until Friday. By then we’ll be all wrapped up with everything.

He’s just stressed. I promise.

Curt had been practically clawing at the walls come the weeks end, plopping himself over Bucky’s knee who had given him the slight satisfaction of pressing his hand against Curt’s belly to steady him there. “Almost done?” He chirped, but got no response.

“Did you color code the sections, Gale? Are they all in order?” Bucky’s gaze had stuck on the man across the desk from him, a pen in his mouth as he nodded.

“Yes — you’re worrying will only make —“

“And what about the evidence slides?”

Their back and forth droned on and Curt could feel himself losing grip more and more. Bucky had hardly looked at him for a week, and Gale just the same. He felt like he was right back at the beginning again, wondering when the next text would come by and he’d get that familiar hit of dopamine.

Wyd?

You up?

Wanna come over?

Can I come get you?

“I think we’ve got it all figured out, B.” Curt’s tone was gentle, apprehensive. Bucky could curse him out if he wanted — he wouldn’t be wrong for it.

He ground his ass into Bucky’s knee, huffing softly at the sensation. Without John to pay him attention with his tongue, some fingers or with his and Gale’s cock, he was left to his own devices.

It was hardly as fun.

Bucky wasn’t budging though, holding Curt still by his belly but not moving his hand, not one single bit of attention truly paid to Curt as he fussed on and on about the organization of their defense binders.

“Bucky,” Curt whimpered, leaning his back against his chest as his hands, much smaller than Bucky’s, grasped onto the one that rested over his stomach. “It’s Friday — it’s late. C’mon.”

Gale blinked at the two, his fingers idly scrambling to show each section of the binder Bucky anxiously asked to see without missing a beat or becoming too distracted by a panting and so desperate looking Curtis who spread himself out over Bucky’s lap, a pout visible.

It looked like he could get himself off that way, writhing and whining against Bucky’s body like the friction would be enough to set him over the edge.

“It’s all right here, Bucky. We have this down, buddy.” Gales eyes went soft, his tone assuring. “You’re the best lawyer I’ve ever seen work cases like this.” He was rounding third and headed for home — they were painfully close to the weekend, so far away from Monday morning court rooms.

C’mon, Galey.

“Being diligent never hurt.” Bucky went monotone, turning the binder again to flip through it himself. “It’s horseshoes and hand grenades — close isn’t good enough, Gale.”

One of Gale’s habits was diagnosing the people in his life, whether they knew it or not.

Bucky over time had acquired a wide range of diagnosis, though Gale couldn’t really nail down a few of them unless he put him through some testing, which he was unsure he was legally allowed to ask of him.

And Curt.

Christ.

He was a whole other story.

So imagine the line he towed, the way he held his tongue. Curtis had been open minded to his grounding techniques which he’d been getting better at implementing — in fact, Gale was astonished Curt had gone an entire week without lashing out at anyone.

He would count to ten instead. He’d remind himself Bucky still loved him, because the opposite was a silly thought, and he’d occupy his time with things that he enjoyed, rather than ways to get Bucky back under his wing.

He’d tried so hard.

He buried his face in the pillow on Bucky’s side of the bed and willed himself to make do with what he was given, but he failed time and time again. He felt so desperate, so hopeless. He’d fall asleep with the pillow that was losing his scent tucked against his chest.

Too much time had passed now, though.

It was becoming cruel torture.

Hips rocking against Bucky’s knee, he had totally lost all sense of self — his dignity taking a ding, no less. It hardly mattered anymore. No embarrassment could be felt on his part in front of two men who have picked him apart and fucked every piece.

“Curtis,” Bucky murmured, his brows furrowed at the little body that rut against him like a tiny dog who’d never been fixed, claiming its territory the only way it knew how. “You’re being fucking ridiculous.”

Curt gripped onto the side of Bucky’s desk, panting as he ground his ass stuffed with the only thing that’s kept him sane the past week — his first plug, the one Bucky had bought him under the pretense that Curt would wear it to class.

Of course wearing it to class had turned into wearing it to dinner, to the movies, in the passenger seat of Bucky’s now bruised up Range Rover.

“No, you are.” Curtis huffed, his eyes half lidded.

The siren.

Gale had made direct eye contact and had practically turned to stone, eyes wider than he’d like them to be as he watched intently with his hands frozen over the desk, picking idly at Bucky’s filled-to-the-brim calendar beneath his forearms. “Bucky..” his voice was strained, but his eyes had shown some sort of remorse.

Curt’s eyes had looked puffy lately, his shoulders sulked when he passed the study and neglected his spot near the window for a spot in the garden alone, instead.

“Gale.” Bucky mumbled, sights narrowed in his direction that time — he didn’t seem to be letting up, headstrong in whatever philosophy he felt he was upholding.

Gale had recently told Bucky he needed to be a little more firm in his expressions. Always a maybe, hardly ever a yes or no.

It seems he’d taken that to heart.

“Look at him.” Gales voice was still deep and quiet, trailing off near the tail end whilst Curt squirmed atop Bucky with red cheeks and messy hair as he moaned into his hands. “It’s been a whole week.”

“Gale, he wrecked my car.” Bucky pressed his hand firmly into Curt’s chest to still him but it was hardly any use.

“I get it — “ Gale mumbled back, “it’s pocket change, Johnny. Look how much he’s missed you.” He rose to his feet and bent over the desk, unable to leave poor Curt to writhe alone that way while his hands cupped the pink cheeks that’d become damp with desperate tears. “Poor baby.”

Curt’s black lashes fluttered in a haze, his lips parted where little puffs of determined breaths escaped while he rest his arms over the desk to assist his efforts in violating Bucky’s knee.

“I’m sorry, Curtie.” Gale continued softly, more kisses peppering Curt’s cheeks as the sound of his desperate efforts filled the study and seeped through the open windows into the garden.

Completely undone. So close, but so far. “Need it,” Curt whimpered, not daring to reach for Bucky’s cock because being shoved away would send him into a spiral. “Please — I — I’ll be so good,” hardly intelligible, barely a squeak once he’d gotten the words out.

“Ohh,” Gale cooed, his features softening again at the sight. He kissed away Curt’s tears again, swiping the rest away with his thumbs. “You’re asking nice, hm? Maybe just a little nicer,” he stifled his own moan at the sight, Curt crumbling in his hands. “You know how he likes his good boy, don’t you? Show him how good you can be, baby.”

Curt hiccuped as he inhaled, filling his lungs with the breath he’d been holding. “I fuckin’ have been!” His tone morphed into that of utter frustration through a clenched jaw that had began to ache, just like the rest of him.

It was an accident, the pressure built up inside of him pushing itself out — before he had truly noticed what he’d done, it was too late.

Bucky’s knee grew warmer and at first he’d hardly paid it any attention until it hadn’t gone away. “You didn’t-“ he grabbed Curt’s hips forcefully to move him aside and eyed the damp little spot left over his knee, “Curtis — you did fucking not just—“

“I’m so — I’m sorry. I’msorryI’msorry,”

Oh, the tears had tripled.

Gale still held his face and shushed him, a thought in the back of his mind had pondered the idea that Bucky deserved it, in some way.

Until Curt was shoved over the desk, the binder Bucky’d been fussing for hours over thudding onto the floor in a heap, now long forgotten and replaced by a pair of dickies that needed washing now, a far too sympathetic Gale and a Curtis whose wet cheek muddied the ink written in the tiny boxes of Bucky’s work calendar.

“Bucky, it was an accident,” Gale whispered, watching John yank Curt’s damp jeans off of him and toe them away carefully, an open palm slapped against perky, sunburnt cheeks that had been spending too much time outside with too little sunscreen. “He didn’t mean to, did you, baby?”

“No, I didn’t - I didn’t mean to,” Curt was reeling at the feeling of cool air tickling over his prickly skin. “I promise — I’m so-so-“ he’d been cut off by another open handed clap against his skin, a moan chasing after the whine forced out of him.

His body wiggled over the desk he stayed draped over, his wrists held behind his back with Bucky’s left hand, the other pressing a middle and index finger against the base of Curt’s plug to push it a little deeper into him.

His thighs trembled, damp and spreading apart further for Bucky whose hands were rough and unforgiving.

For the first time in a long time, he felt shame.

Desperation at its finest — so long were any ideals he previously philosophized. He was suddenly becoming nothing without them, the reaper of what he sowed.

And, so be it.

Bucky hardly gave him any spit, shoving his hips forward into Curt who gasped over the desktop, his eyes half lidded and staring at Gale who crouched before him, their lips locking for sporadic durations of sloppy and uncoordinated exchanges.

Cherry. Curt always tasted like cherry. “Oh,” Gale hummed, voice deep and living somewhere in his chest. “Look at you — just made for taking it. Our good boy.”

Curt was so pliant in Gale’s hands, jaw clenched in his palm as he held him in place; so soft and flushed a gentle pink, black lashes fluttering over damp, puffy cheeks.

Bucky was a mess of floppy brown curls falling into his eyes once his hips had developed a ruthless rhythm, Curt’s body beneath him malleable and so willing to please, each breath he took a stuttered choke on his blathering. “Right—right— there” he hiccuped through strangled breathes, “Fucking — fuck me— please”

Beneath him, Bucky’s handwriting muddied more into the pages of his calendar with the evidence of his so called punishment. “You like that, don’t you?” His hips had slowed so abruptly, neither Curt nor Gale could register it. “You’re far from deserving.”

Curt twisted himself to lie on his back instead, sprawled over the desk with his head hanging over the side, his legs spread and his mouth opening pliantly as he looked to Gale again who deserved a little loving, too.

“Oh, good boy.” Bucky cooed, palms flattening against the inside of Curt’s thighs to spread them wider as he watched Gale waste no time undressing himself, his leaking cock taken obediently into Curt’s warm, wet throat. “Make me take it back immediately, huh? No surprise.”

“You’re so fucking — god,” Gale couldn’t see his face anymore, just the mouth that his hips sputtered into but he knew Curt still looked like an angel, even despite the angle he was at. “Don’t care the brat you can be. You’re so good at makin’ up for it.”

Curt’s throat vibrated with a happy little hum, body wracked with shivers and tingles once Bucky began to fuck into him, hooking a hand around Gales neck to pull him closer and kiss him — hot, wet, hurried. As if he just needed anything to occupy his mouth. “Come with me, Gale.” He whispered against Gales lips who bit back a moan. “Make him swallow it.”

Each of their rendezvous had sent him farther and farther into his descent.

What are we?

What is this?

Do I love two men?

Do they love me?

Gale finished first, choking Curt on his cock and then the ribbons and ribbons of white hot pleasure that trickled hot and wet down his throat that he swallowed without hardly wasting a drop despite his belly that tensed as he gagged — this angle was tough, but Gale liked watching Curt struggle a little.

Once Gale backed away, the mouth he’d fucked was kissed by Bucky who licked into it, tasting Gale, swapping spit, biting tongues and lips and chins like animals in a deadly heat.

Curt’s belly grew warmer with a familiar sensation, little body spent atop the desk where his thighs shook and tensed together, his orgasm falling from the sky and straight onto him like some sort of atomic bomb.

His body lay spent and sprawled over Bucky’s table, their once organized files turned into heaps of now disordered mess and chaos. “Happy now, aren’t you?” Bucky tapped an open hand over Curt’s thigh, watching him grin and nod his head, unable to use his voice.

His throat was raw, his body still shuddered with the aftermath of his orgasm, “Told you he’d come back around.” Gale bent down to kiss Curt’s damp forehead, pushing his hair away from his eyes.

(Do you like the extra spaces between paragraphs? Is it easier to read?????? Anyway… lmk…..)

[airyairyaucontraire]

I was thinking after my conversation about “I Want” songs with my nephew about moments when there should be a song like that, and one example I’d given him was Dorothy singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” so naturally I thought of Luke Skywalker on his little berm, and then I thought of the excellent idea I read somewhere that instead of Disney doing boring live action remakes of their great animated movies there should be animated remakes of live action movies, and those bumped together in my head to form Star Wars the Disney animated musical. Key points:

You are free to imagine the voice casting however you wish with one exception: obviously Ewan McGregor is playing Obi-Wan. Play him again and it’s a musical? Whoosh sound effect and a McGregor-shaped dust cloud as he makes for the studio.

Complete freedom to add scenes, and I don’t mean like the restored ANH scene where Han steps on Jabba’s tail - scenes exploring characters’ feelings through song! Including when they’re alone, which is the only way Leia would ever talk about her feelings.

Must look like classic cel animation. Character designs are inspired by but not required to be closely based on the actors (nor The Clone Wars). The animators will be instructed to draw the idea of Luke Skywalker, not Mark Hamill, if you see what I mean.

Mark Hamill can totally do the voice if he wants to though, obviously.

Definitely still have the stormtrooper who bonks his head on the door.

Examples (may not be in chronological order):

Luke’s “I Want” song obviously. Make it as “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” as you like.

Han gets an intro song making his way through Mos Eisley dodging bounty hunters. Make it as “One Jump Ahead” from Aladdin as you like.

“My Only Hope,” a song sung by Leia alone in her cell as she mourns for her planet and her parents. She falls apart in tears, then pulls herself together with a mighty effort and fixes her make-up with a little magic sci-fi device she had hidden up her sleeve and rises determined to stay in command of the situation and of herself - that’s her only hope.

“Your First Steps,” Obi-Wan’s big number while training Luke on the Falcon. A somewhat more comprehensive introduction to the Force than just trying not to get zapped by a training remote.

Other Stuff I Want:

Boba Fett cameo, because I love him.

Just as Leia cries when she’s alone, I need Luke to actually cry when he finds Owen and Beru’s bodies. Then, again like Leia, he pulls himself together and goes to do what he can. But he’s still sniffing and having to wipe his eyes with his sleeve as he drives back to Obi-Wan.

It would be corny but I’m not opposed to brief cameos, just background glimpses, of other characters who might be on Tatooine at the time during Han’s number. I mentioned Boba but we could also have Fennec Shand, Peli Motto and Cobb Vanth.

Before the medal ceremony ending (for which you’d better believe EVERYONE is singing, solos for the main characters and the entire Rebellion as a choir, the triumphal “A New Hope”) there’s a quiet scene with Alderaanian rebels raising a memorial stone to the people of Alderaan, and then anyone who lost someone on Alderaan can use a little laser pen to write their names on a small stone to place in front of it. Leia offers a stone and a pen to Luke, who demurs that he doesn’t want to intrude on something for Alderaan. Leia says, “I’m still the princess of Alderaan and I’m inviting you. You’re not intruding.” So we have a shot of their stones lying together on the base of the pile, inscribed “Breha and Bail Organa” and “Beru and Owen Lars.”

Yes in legible English (or substitute the local script for international release), I’m not doing Aurebesh.

When you use the Force your hair puffs out like a Studio Ghibli character.

Just go full 80s scifi anime with unlimited budget on the Death Star run scenes, obviously

[actualbird]

luke pearce IS the sort of person who sleeps with a bunch of stuff on his bed shoved to the side. nxx (and aaron) stage an intervention and are like “we LOVE you, you deserve good things, PLEASE love yourself”

jhvKJHVSDFSLFKJ THESE R SUCH LOVELY HCS, ANONNN!!!

truly, the nxx team will want luke to have standards So Much. to raise his quality of living because he is definitely Capable of it, he just Doesnt Do It. i like to think it's both because of a casual not thinking very much about himself for internalized self loathing, and also just some natural scatterbrained-ness.

i remember mc saying at some point that luke's been messy ever since they were kids. itll be hilarious when the nxx team actually do manage to get luke to have better standards for himself, and theyre all very happy seeing the improvement made in his self esteem and self worth and how that results in some Home Treats like a nice big fluffy blanket and a rice cooker maybe, BUT.......his place still ends up generally messy and in disarray

marius, falling to his knees dramatically: WHERE DID WE GO WRONG!!!

mc, patting him: yeah no, the mess is staying forever i think

vyn: i am just considering it a victory that he no longer microwaves his water for coffee and tea

artem: //in the background accidentally stubbing his toe against the palette bedframe. ow

i also ADORE THE HOARDER HC SO MUCHCHCHCHHCH!!!! AND UR SO RIGHT LIKE....okay im gonna delve a little more metaphysical in my interpretation but...

it is clear in luke's character and his interests that he values and cherishes objects that have meaning and story attached to them. there are the most obvious examples, with keepsakes from mc, but the one that is more fascinating to me actually is his shop, Time's Antiquities, as a representation of this.

it's still a shop, so he parts ways with the objects eventually, yeah, but the mere fact that thats what he chose is indicative of a deep appreciation for history, for objects of old, because of the past etched into their existence. it's even more interesting that his antique shop co-exists with his general mastery over advanced tech. and that shows that he could absolutely have been a person to value solely utility and advancements in objects, but he isnt. luke does value those things, but there is a cherished place in his life for objects whose main value is less of what they are and more of what theyve been through, more of the stories that they can tell

all that rambling to say that: yeah he totally keeps a hairtie from mc from forever ago JHAVKJHFVAKSFHAVKFH hes a sentimentalist like that and i love him for it. he'd also keep every single gift given to him from people who matter to him: a get well soon card from aaron that he got at the hospital once, a cookbook from artem, some nice pens from marius, a pretty tea strainer from vyn, a whole box just filled with stuff peanut handed to him, all of it

he is so special to me....

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hi, if you're still doing the matchups, I'd love to see what you have in store!

Song fixations

-- Currently, I've been listening to MARK CHAPMAN by Måneskin. The first lyrics that came to my mind was the end of the first verse and the chorus.

Ma se soltanto avesse La possibilità Ti seguirebbe al quattro angoli della città Nascosto fra la gente Senza un'identità Dice che mi ama ma lo so che mente

Si muove a piede libero Vestito come un incubo Vuole tu sia in pericolo Però'ti chiama idolo

Translated as: "But if only he had the possibility, It would follow you to the four corners of the city. Hidden among the people, without an identity. He says he loves me but I know he's lying. He moves freely, dressed like a nightmare. He wants you to be in danger, but he calls you an idol." I'm not entirely sure why these lyrics stand out to me in the way they do, but oh well. I've also been listening to READ YOUR DIARY from the same album.

The Redacted Part of this Ask

-- I absolutely love Hush's introductory video. The sound design and overall ambiguity surrounding his character at that point was so absolutely intriguing on its first release, and I still listen to it regularly.

I never was able to get into Asher, unfortunately. I know that there's probably so much more to his story, but it's just never clicked with me.

I would completely and absolutely love to befriend Huxley. I am a total Plant Slut, and I have (quite frankly) a concerning amount of house plants. Having someone who is not only Chill as Fuck to hang with, but could also help with the plants? That is a friendship that I need.

Book/series/tv show

-- Just solely by the volume of it that I watch, I could probably recall any given episode of Dimension 20. I watch it while crocheting, and so when I'm just chilling and have time on my hands, dice time it goes. I could probably name every insane Nat 20 Ally made in FH:FY and every intimidating Evan Kelmp line in Misfits + Magic.

Various other info (Sleepy time, Enneagram, etc)

-- My go-to way to fall asleep is, unfortunately, staying awake until I physically cannot keep my eyes open any longer. When I do get sleepy, I talk about stationary. It's something I've been into for a long time, and when I simply do not have the filter to not talk about my interests, I unleash everything about pens and notebooks that I know on the poor soul who is near me.

I'm a type 5 on the Enneagram and am currently pursuing a degree in Mathematics. Ideally, I want to go to grad school. I just really, really, fucking love maths. It is the best subject.

Gas Station. I normally do a water, a monster zero ultra, and kettle-cooked salt and vinegar chips.

Other than all of this, I'm just a dude. Just a silly little guy, if you will. Teehee. Have fun!

So this one was both so fun but so hard. You’re so interesting, you’ve got so much going on- a typical Type Five. Not to make you sound like a Manic Pixie Dream Boy but god, James could use you in his life.

By that, I mean Type Five’s are characterized as thoughtful, unique free-thinkers prone to philosophy and complexity. I think James respects and admires these qualities in you in addition to your pursuit of higher education. (I don’t think he knows a ton about math, but I do think he likes to hear you talk about it.) Complementing that, he loves the more unexpected, chaotic parts of you. Like, can you imagine listening to your thoughts and the cognitive dissonance of theorems versus Riz going up a corn monster’s butt? You keep him on his toes in the best way.

Another reason James strikes me as a good match for you is how easy, I think, it’ll be for him to take you with him to ETS. He could listen to Dimension 20 when he misses you, deeply confusing his coworkers who can’t picture him as a DnD guy. Like, I don’t think you would have had time to crochet him a blanket before he left, but maybe he’s got gloves, a scarf, socks, something you made for him that he can touch. Also, can’t you imagine sending him on his work trip with a little plant? The bonding opportunities for James and Anton to take care of their plants and miss their lovers write themselves!

Song:

Gonna soften the blow, soften the blow and give it up/ I saw the surprise, the look in your eyes, I gave it up/ Gonna be who I am, be who I am, and give it up/ I traveled the way/ Wait for me, wait for me/ It's all better now, it's all better now/ Wait for me, wait for me

James strikes me as an indie, alt rock kind of guy, so Kings of Leon would be a good fit for him. I like this song for y’all for that reason and the fact it’s got a sweet, longing kind of feel. Also, “wait for me” when he’s on that business trip a little incel motherfucker made that much longer just hits.

Runner-ups:

Anton is obviously a runner-up; like, he came to mind first. However, James strikes me as more interesting and therefore a better match for someone as interesting as you. Lasko is another runner-up because I think y’all would really share interests and hobbies. If I were doing platonic match-ups, he’d have been at the top of list.

note: thank you for waiting 🧡

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[kkeropui]

PROFILES !

introducing . . . #whores4woodz

introducing . . . the guys

⤷ the high school sweetheart, lee heeseung. maybe it was because of that one time he reimbursed someone for accidentally bumping into them and causing them to spill their drink or maybe that time when he bought you a new set of pens when he lost the one you lent him for the day, whatever it was, heeseung must've been everyone's first love. he was simply just a sweetheart and it was hard not to like someone like him.

⤷ the class president, park jongseong who goes by his english name, jay. he always looks angry (which is why everyone is so afraid to approach him :O) but believe me, he is also one of the nicest people you'll ever meet in your lifetime— but obviously, you have to work your way there. always willing to help you out if you missed on school work and whatnot.

⤷ the school's top student, sim jaeyun or jake. he lived in australia prior to moving to korea due to receiving a scholarship there. like i said, always getting the best grades in school. a boy with the most charming face but always has it stuffed in some science text book, at this point people just assumes he lives in either the library or school labs because he's always there with his nose stuck in a book.

⤷ the school's star athlete, park sunghoon. he's done ice skating for almost all his life !!! he always looks so elegant gliding over the ice— which is why he was given the name ice prince by the students. he's usually absent at school due to having skating practice, but when you do see him at school, he always has a line of people tailing behind him shooting him heart eyes.

୨୧ masterlist – ୨୧ chapter one

SUMMARY ! you hated high school, oh with a burning passion. it was totally unbearable to be somewhere you felt as if you didn't belong, but who knew your existence itself could lead to the school's top student, star athlete, class president and sweetheart to fall head over heels for you. maybe these guys would make your time at school bearable ... or maybe not.

it was fun while it lasted, but only one is lucky enough to be your boyfriend. but wait! who's the lucky one ?

a/n ! AAAAA i'm saur nervous this i'm my ... relaunch of lucky one bcos i quite literally stopped the first time saur.. i hope u guys enjoy the story 😥 also pls i wanted yns username for her sec acc to be @/zimzalaibimzimzim so bad </3 it was tew long

[ajokeformur-ray]

Merry Christmas, Rose!❄️🎄🎁💖

Merry Christmas, Rose!!! I hope that you're having a lovely festive season, full of good food and spending time with your loved ones!!!💗💗💗💗

@rosesloveletters

Total word count for this gift set: 6, 442.

First, a handwritten letter from me because we always do this first!!😭

Now for some fics!!! I had so much fun writing these; I hope you enjoy! I think you will😉 If you don't like them, please don't be shy in letting me know and I'll happily write you something else.🥺💗 I love you so so much, I had a lot of fun writing these and I hope you enjoy them!!

To have and to hold // 1971!Wonka x Rose

Summary: Sometimes, you just want to sit in Wonka's lap while he's drafting letters to the queen, working on his recipes and seasonal confectionaries, filing invoices and working on the organisation of his international business, you want to hold him while he works. And if you happened to fall asleep, well... who would he be to disturb you?

Quote in italics found here, by Pavana.

Word count: 1, 168.

Everything was cut in half in this room; Wonka's office.

The grandfather clock that hung on the wall, the papers and posters detailing various contracts, legislative guidelines, and other things which needed to be known but couldn't always be remembered off the top of a very crowded head, the mirror, the lamp shade, the desk and its many accessories...

Everything was cut in half in this room, except time and the reality under which Wonka occasionally had to bow, even in his world of pure imagination.

And the depth of your affection.

You never withheld affection or love from Wonka, no matter what kind of day either of you were having. In fact, the worst days involved more affection, with both of you holding onto each other even tighter just so that you could make it through. Wonka held the weight of the world on his shoulders with poise and grace; he knew how to handle even the most stressful of situations, and he did it without a curl falling out of place. Even the curls that sat atop his head, concealed by his top hat, stayed perfectly imperfectly whenever he took his hat off. The way they flopped around on one side often made you laugh, though you tried to hide it behind a hand sometimes. He carried himself as if nothing ever affected him, and for the most part nothing did - his reputation was his blanket - but sometimes his gorgeous smile was a little dimmer than usual, his oceans of blue a little icier and his gaze a little further away than you were used to.

On those days, which occurred more frequently during any and all potential holidays one could celebrate in a given year, you gave yourself permission to love on your chocolatier a little firmer than you already did. You wanted your affection, your love, for him, to cut across the meaningless noise of his thoughts until all that remained was his ability to make his way through his to do list, to face what has to be faced and to handle everything as gracefully as he could without even slightly marring his reputation.

All of this so that then he could stop working, put the pens down and the papers aside, close the lodgers and the financial books, and get some rest in the arms of his beloved; his sunshine.

You.

You were the one success Wonka never counted on; for years, he had been locked away in his factory churning out new confectioneries, designing new packaging and continuing to churn up his chocolate by waterfall. Everything was regimented, precise, controlled and measured, except for his imagination, the endless source of his success...

... And the appearance of you.

There was to be no controlling of the way that the sunlight had come to resemble the face of his beloved as it poured in through the windows of his office, the way you had so suddenly turned the world - his world - upside down and righted it again so quickly that Wonka felt his aptly named rose tinted glasses slide off his face, though his vision remained bathed in pink as he took in the new angles of the world with his love of you and for you cradled so closely to his heart.

Wonka, in all his wildest dreams, in his world of pure imagination, never saw you coming, and it only made him all in love with you all over again every single day.

He liked surprises, and you continued to astonish him even months into your relationship when he should have been used to you, and yet he found that he never really could be; you were simply too ethereal, too rich a personality in your own right. Every time he thought he knew you, you revealed more of yourself until his pure world spun on its axis anew and your image, forever carved into his tired heart with the gentlest of blades, became deeper, more vivid, a knowledge of the garden of your soul only for him.

Try as he might, Wonka was always almost shocked by all the ways in which you managed to show that you loved him.

One such way was your newly adopted habit of letting yourself into his office when he was bent over his desk so close that the tip of his nose was almost brushing against the surface of the ink filled pages he was diligently working on, and curling up in his lap. Your arms looped around his shoulders so that you could pull him up to sit in a way where you could easily slide into his lap, the cool tip of your nose buried in the warm crook of his neck, your body perfectly cradled by his own.

Wonka always sat back in his chair immediately once he realised your intentions, his pen loosely dangled between graceful fingers, his hands slightly raised above his desktop as he waited for you to make yourself comfortable before he would resume his work. It was almost like two puzzle pieces slotting together; his touch as you settled into his welcoming lap felt right, like it was where you were always supposed to be.

You always tucked yourself as close to him as you could, keeping out of his arms' way as best as you could even though they caged you on his lap quite naturally from how he sat as he filled out paperwork, but Wonka never would have asked you to move even if you were in his way. He would have simply rested his chin over your shoulder so that he could still see and carried on regardless; accepting your love without a word and returning it to you as best as he could.

"The greatest intimacy lies between the nakedness of two minds."

The smile which broke across your face at the sound of his quiet voice, the way he so often spoke when he was quoting someone literary, was serene, hidden though it was in Wonka's neck, and you shifted ever closer into royal purple, your fingers slipping into golden curls. Fingers scratched, soothed over scalp, and for a brief moment the two of you had closed eyes and wore smiles which came from within; there was nothing unnatural about the bond between you.

As Wonka finished a letter to the Queen and began to go over some business invoices for the next bulk of monthly stock orders, he began to hum. He knew by the way you were holding him that you were falling asleep, and he had much work to do and not much time in which to do it - yes, that was the right way to say it. He felt a touch of pride in you as the first few notes drifted into your ears and sunk into your mind, helping you to find rest by creating a heavy cloak of sleep which you couldn't help but to slip into.

"Come with me, and you'll be - "

I had two ideas for you and Wonka; I couldn't pick one so I figured I'd write you both!!💗

Alternative delights // 1971!Wonka x Rose

Summary: Wonka finds out that you are allergic to dairy and as such, can't eat anything in his chocolate room. To you, it is a throwaway comment, but to Wonka... it's not just a challenge, it's a certainty that he's going to make sure you can enjoy his world of imagination just as much as he can.

Word count: 1, 055.

Wonka couldn't help but to notice that even as you walked around his much beloved chocolate room, his much prized creation carefully cultivated to showcase the best of his many talents and skills, you didn't touch anything.

You didn't even dip a finger into a mushroom stool on your way past and lick it.

You didn't touch, you didn't taste, you didn't indulge.

You just looked, awe-struck, and explored. All you left behind was the ghost of who you had been before you stepped through the deceptively small door, changed by your experiences with Wonka and ever-growing and evolving as your own person.

Somewhere deep inside him, Wonka knew that he would get to watch you blossom, and he couldn't wait.

Finally, he had to know why you weren't using the chocolate room for its express purpose, and he stopped you in your tracks with a gentle hand curled around one of your elbows as he pulled you closer so that he could murmur in your ear.

"Is there something wrong, my dear?" Wonka used a casual hand to gesture towards the nearest creation; a giant gummy bear. That likely wouldn't harm you, but you could never be too sure unless you were reading the ingredients list, and you knew that curiosity was never worth the very visceral bodily reactions to ingesting dairy.

"No," you shook your head with an easily smile, "I just can't have anything with dairy in it."

Wonka's eyebrows shot up in surprise; he thought he had heard it all in his decades as an international business owner, but clearly he hadn't. You were full of surprises, and it only served to draw him to you even further. He could only imagine how hard it must be for you to be able to find good food which you could safely enjoy, and he channeled that into figuring out how he could make that happen for you. There was nothing he couldn't do if he put his mind to it, and the very same could be said for you.

You continued to explore, not even trailing your hand along anything in case you forgot to wash your hands before ingesting anything later on (again, you had learned the hard way to treat anything potentially containing dairy as being like poison to you, and you always took your medication) and Wonka waited until you had gone out of earshot before he pulled his flute out from his inner breast pocket and flagged down an Oompa Loompa. "Find out everything you can on people who are allergic to dairy, please. I want symptoms, alleviations, and alternative ingredients."

Five hours later, he and the Oompa Loompas got to the real work. They started working on new adjusted recipes, and Wonka set about clearing out a room for you - a chocolate room.

There was little to do and too much time to do it in - wait. Strike that. Reverse it.

It was fine, Wonka shrugged, he knew what he meant the first time. He only clarified his thoughts for everyone else's sake, even if there was no one else in the room. One could never be too sure if there was an Oompa Loompa around, they were rather mischievous.

As he did with all things, Wonka threw himself into this latest (and therefore greatest, a magician was he with taste buds) innovation - if this proved to be a success for you, then perhaps he could look at developing a dairy free line for the general public, too. That was not to say that you were to be his guinea pig, only to say that he trusted your judgement implicitly and if you enjoyed his adapted creations, that meant everything to the chocolatier. It was to be only the best for you, as was befitting for someone as incredible as you.

You hadn't known one another long, but you gravitated towards each other all the same, like you were both the moth to the other's flame. Leading each other quite naturally into your new lives together. It had only been some months, and yet Wonka could already see that you were kind, tender, compassionate, gentle, creative, logical, funny, caring, wise, and someone he would go above and beyond for... as he was doing right now.

Five days to the hour later, and there was a new chocolate room on the other side of the factory, to make sure that cross-contamination was kept to an absolute minimum, with a sign on the door which read, no entry; chocolate Roses within.

Hope swirled within you as you stood in front of it, your beautiful eyes taking in what was inscribed on the door, but you pushed it down forcefully. Maybe the sign wasn't implying what you thought it was. You refused to let yourself get excited. You had done that before, and you weren't so keen to get bitten again.

"Well, my dear... this room, which is an exact replica of my own chocolate room, is entirely for you." As he spoke, Wonka dipped into the same pocket which held the flute he used to communicate with the Oompa Loompas, and withdrew a large key. "All of it is dairy free and entirely safe for your consumption. I hope that you enjoy it..." He smiled wistfully. "I'm sure you will." Another pause. "Yes, quite sure." His voice trailed off as he got lost in his thoughts, though he quickly recovered. The tip of the key he had given you was much smaller than the head, which made the key look almost comically large, the tip looking like it would snap under the slightest pressure put onto the top-heavy key. He handed it to you, ignoring your furrowed brows of confusion, and gestured to the door with a graceful hand.

After you.

With a slight tremor to your usually steady hands, you slotted the key into the lock, and Wonka raised his eyebrows in anticipation as you pushed the door open with your other hand.

"Welcome to your chocolate room..."

The door opened, and the gorgeous room was a perfect replica. The only difference was that you could fully enjoy this journey into a world of pure imagination, made only of chocolate, sugar and love.

The look of absolute awe on your face was all the thanks Wonka ever needed.

Planting new life // 2012!The Onceler x Rose

Summary: The Onceler inspires you to plant some trees in your back garden. It becomes a moment of bonding between the two of you. The Lorax looks on, proud and serene.

Word count: 1, 174.

You had always been a bit green-fingered.

For years, it had been a dream of yours to have your own garden, to be able to grow and eat your own vegetables and nurture your own plants. There was something so therapeutic about getting your hands in the soil and planting seeds; peppers, tomatoes, sunflowers especially were amongst your favourite to plant and observe in their element, and, you hoped and planned for trees. Watching them grow, knowing that you were the one who put them there, and many years later being able to see the sun shining through the pure green leaves as the tree continued to flourish and thrive under the conditions you had created and then maintained for it as best as you could. There was nothing in the world quite like it, and you did your best to grow what you were able to.

There was a great oak in your back garden, close to your neighbour's fence, which needed to be cut down for various reasons. Out with the old, and in with the new. It needed to be cut down, there was no other way, but rather than pay for someone else to do it, you would rather have your Onceler do it. He knew what he was doing, having cut down many a tree in his time, but those trees had still been alive. This wasn't anything more than doing what had to be done so that you could plant new life where the dead had fallen.

You knew that The Onceler had once sworn that he would never, he promised, chop down another tree, but this one had to go. Its roots were compromised, it was actively dying, and cutting it down so that you could then dig it out at the roots before planting a new one in the same place was the best decision out of all of the available options.

And who could you turn to, who else knew how to do this quickly, but your Onceler?

It was a process greatly deliberated between the two of you, with many a bad memory attached to the felling of a tree, and even more bad memories attached to why such an act had become a frenzy for your thneed creator. No one had cared, no one, as the invasive greed of capitalism had taken hold of a once pure intention and twisted it, warped it, beyond recognition, until it was an ugly festering thing which brought devastation and starvation to those left in its wake. No one had cared, The Onceler had taken it too far, his abusive family encouraging him into worse thoughts and worst actions, only using him for his fame and money, with little care for the man himself, and so nothing had changed, even when it was far too late. Caring was the first step to making any change, and you cared enough about the health of your garden that you had to change the tree.

The lessons you had learned from The Onceler, the mistakes you had watched him make and spend much time trying to correct and make right, were cherished within you, and you carried them with you as often as you could in as many places as you could. You understood his journey like no one and nothing else, except perhaps The Lorax, and you helped to humanise him even to himself.

You were, in short, his 'unless'.

Unless you cared, nothing would change. That tree would still be rotting where it stood and your garden's health and the overall view wouldn't change. Unless you took the initiative to go after what you wanted, nothing would improve. Unless you humanised The Onceler, he'd never come to experience genuine unconditional love from anyone; he would only know the manipulative and conditional love from his family.

Unless, unless, unless...

How could one word mean so much?

As soon as the great oak came down, you would empty out the remaining hole and immediately plant a new one.

Your resolve in this decision, the way that you couldn't be swayed from doing what was right because it was right, was a much more positive attitude to have towards the act of cutting down a tree than what The Onceler had ever had, and in less than thirty seconds, with two of his sure swings of the axe which was favoured in this work, the dying oak was on the ground, the stump raw but quickly dug out to expose where the roots had taken hold. He made quick work of clearing the hole, and then looked at you expectantly, almost reverently, as you swiftly and with great care re-potted the chosen baby tree to take the place of the fallen one.

Such was the cycle of life. From death came life, the soil in which new things grow nurtured by the flesh rotting within, the worms working hard to consume all they came into contact with, everything ends as everything begins, and so it goes.

You patted the new tree down into the soil, got it comfortable and fully tucked into its bed of earth, and stepped back so that The Onceler could put a wooden plague down before it, fashioned hastily from the fallen tree. The date was carved into it, as was the species of tree.

Neither of you spoke beyond shared weighted glances, your hands brushing together as you worked to complete the task as quickly as you could without damaging the spirit of the garden. It was your garden and therefore it deserved the utmost care.

The Onceler dropped to his knees beside you, his thighs pressed against yours along the outside, and watered the baby tree, a soft smile on his face. It was tinged with the bittersweet ache of regret, so you leaned over to rest your head against his shoulder.

I'm here with you.

No matter what, you made sure that he never felt alone in what he was going through, even when he committed acts you weren't fully sure you could condone. Even so, you understood, you accepted him without judgement, and your love was quintessential in The Onceler's redemption. Similarly, your love of gardening was essential to your plants flourishing, as was your love for The Onceler being able to grow into a better version of himself after the mishaps of his past, his grievous errors and his lost way, and his love for you was important, too. People were like complicated plants; they needed nutrients, water, a careful hand to guide them to grow, patience, and most importantly of all, love.

It always, always came back to love.

As The Lorax watched the two of you, somewhere close and yet so very far away, his yellow chest filled with oxygen and pride in equal measures. He smiled, and as he exhaled, he thought with all the serenity and goodwill of the world, you done good, beanpoles.

The Lorax spoke for the trees, but the baby you just re-potted was singing.

You can keep the towels // Terry & Rose Benedict (familial) ft. The Boys™️

Summary: You're as strong as your father, and he couldn't be prouder of you.

Word count: 1, 574.

The older you got, the more like your daddy you became.

It was obvious to absolutely everyone that you were, more than anyone else, your own person, and that was definitely something you got from Terry. It had taken a lot to get you to where you were, but you kept pushing and persisting because you knew that there was no other way; no one could save you but you, though he always had a hand on the middle of your back to gently nudge you one way or the other if you happened to look back at him. Lost or unsure, he was there to advise you.

One nod from him was all it ever took for you to find your footing again; if your daddy approved, it was 'safe' or 'right' for you.

You had a quiet confidence about you; you listened to the music you wanted even and especially when Danny and Rusty tried to get you to listen to what they listened to by playfully snatching your earbuds and swapping them for the wires from their phones. You wore the clothes you wanted, ate the food you wanted and gave yourself permission to spend money on what you wanted. Even if it took you months to buy a $200 bag, you still bought it in the end because you knew you wanted it, and that meant that the price tag meant nothing in the face of the joy it would bring for you once it was in your possession. Its usage would pay for itself; the more you used it, the faster you earned back that $200, though you paid it in smiles, rather than in money.

Even if you hadn't bought it yourself, your daddy eventually would have, and left it somewhere for you to find. It would have been placed on your pillow, most likely, or perhaps at the foot of your bed if Tess had been the one to bring it into your home on Terry's behalf. He would have spent the money without hesitation, just held his bank card out with a lazy hand to his most recent assistant without looking at them, and that would have been that.

But not you.

You deliberated, you considered, you planned, you restrained, you waited, you were patient... and when you spent the money, you were so excited that all of the previous worry seemed not to matter, when you were so happy.

You lived your own life on your own terms, and even if it sometimes felt like your screams were nothing more than whimpers, you still made some kind of noise in protest when things weren't working out well for you. Your ability to still speak up in some kind of way was something which Terry had instilled in you from a young age, and he was always so proud of you for having the bravery to be yourself. It wasn't easy, not with the world trying to tell you who you should be, how you should live, but you knew yourself, you knew yourself, and that was what counted when nothing else mattered anymore.

Even when you were working, you were yourself. You handled yourself with such grace and maturity; you answered the phone within three rings every time, your greeting rolling off your tongue as you cradled the phone to your one ear while you typed or scrawled down notes of follow-up questions to ask your daddy or any of his staff members, but your desk was full of things which were yours. Grinch stress balls which Rusty had thrown at your head one time as a joke, but they had actually really helped you, both in the moment and later on. Cat pens of various colours and silly shapes, Van Gogh notebooks which resembled the same paintings on your father's walls, an onyx fox figurine with a blank white calling card slotted underneath it for safekeeping, framed photos of your sister standing beside you... you never lost sight of yourself, even when the world most pushed for you to.

You kept yourself within your line of sight at all times, reminding yourself of who your daddy was, and therefore of who you were. Invariably, it helped you to do what needed to be done. Even and especially at personal cost, though that never included compromising who you were; it referred more to skipping meals or forgetting to look after yourself. All of the bad habits your father had, though he hid them so well even he didn't notice them sometimes. But you did. In reminding Terry to take care of himself (or, at least, to eat the food brought to his desk, rather than pushing it aside in favour of getting some more work done and then forgetting about it all together), you were also reminded to take care of yourself.

He had raised you and continued to raise you with the utmost care, and now that you were an adult, the two of you grew and blossomed together, taking care of one another through impossible to do lists, chores, workloads, meetings, heist plannings you both liked to sit in on without making any concrete plans as to where you would rest your weary head that night, and other challenges that life threw at you. Sometimes you returned home, and sometimes you crashed with Ocean's Eleven; it depended on the situation and how tired you were. With Terry kept in your eyesight just as much as you kept yourself there; home is where the heart is, and you would always follow Terry. You would follow yourself there, too, because you knew the way of your own path better than you thought you did, and in our quietest of moments is this truth revealed.

Terry watched as you stood at the top of the stairs, looking over the lobby of The Bellagio as you did floor staff head counts and other security checks. He watched as you checked the clipboard, which contained a sheet of paper outlining all of the day's tasks; it was a long list, but he knew that you could do it. He never thought otherwise; he had not the time or luxury for self-doubt. Sometimes you got scared to begin with, but you always found your way forward, and Terry's chin dipped forward as he eyed you, making sure that you were doing what he always did when he was taken unawares; closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then faced it. He had always been your guiding light, this he knew, in all things.

He tried to stay as bright as he could, to help you light your way in any varying degrees of darkness. Leading by example was one of the best ways for a parent to pass on wisdom to their children, and Terry Benedict was one of the very best and the very worst, depending on whether he liked you or not. If you were Linus, then he was always the worst - Linus was so easy to wind up and it was too entertaining to ever miss an opportunity to mess with him. On this one thing, Terry and the Oceans' boys were firmly agreed.

Terry turned to his assistant and inclined his head, talking quietly, "make sure she has a fresh pink drink when she gets to her office, please." He knew how much you liked having a drink while you worked; it often lasted for hours, long enough for the ice to melt and the freeze-dried strawberries to stick to the inner lid of the takeaway cup.

Your office was in the same room as his; he had sectioned off the biggest corner for your own workspace some years ago, so that the two of you worked together and your daddy was in easy access for you to have hugs as and when you felt the need for them; truly, you both received comfort from the affection.

You turned and caught sight of Terry as you marked numbers down on the paperwork, your checks finalised. Your smile broke your face in two and Terry couldn't - wouldn't - fight the very small smile which he allowed to show on his face. It wouldn't do to appear to frown at you, just as it wouldn't do to beam. But his daughter would know that he was happy to see her, at the very least. Terry gave his loves everything he had, just as you poured all of your heart into your projects. He was always so very proud of you, but most especially when you were still trying, still fighting, in the moments when you thought that no one was watching.

Because your daddy was. He always was.

He inclined his head - let's go to our office - to tell you that it was time for the next part of your very busy, very chaotic but ultimately manageable day, though you wouldn't know how you would get everything done even after the shift was through, and then he was off at his usual break-neck pace. He followed his schedule almost to the second, and it had always inspired you to try to be a bit more like him in the ways you approached your own work. You followed at a leisurely pace, your steps confident and a content smile on your face as you took in the sights of The Bellagio - she was beautiful, and so were you.

Profundity, simply stated // Abbé de Coulmier x Rose ft. The Marquis

Summary: you admire the Abbé's intelligence, while he's admiring yours.

Word count: 1, 471.

Abbé de Coulmier was one of the most beautiful men you had ever met. He would tell you that you were blasphemous for making such a comparison, but he really was an angel amongst all of humanity. You firmly believed it with everything in you. He inspired you, especially in the ways of the academia, and you took to heart his opinions pertaining to creativity; the flesh could starve as surely as the spirit when asked when he allowed the patients to take art classes, singing lessons and other such 'luxuries' which were seen by external authorities as being a waste of money.

Indeed, most others in the asylum were horrible to the poor souls being housed there; they dehumanised the patients, ridiculed them for their struggles, kept them cold and hungry if they acted in a way which was true to themselves and did little to make an already difficult life easier in any kind of capacity. There was no privacy, no respect, little care and definitely not even a glimpse of hope for future improvement or for a better prognosis. People were dumped in the asylum by tired family members, by doctors who knew not what else could be done for the 'wretched souls', the key and their future was thrown away without a second thought once they were deemed to be criminally insane, and left to rot.

And yet... the Abbé didn't like that, he wasn't like that. He tried to counteract the horrific state-approved treatments as best as he could, to be the one shining beacon in the patients' lives. He was a man of God, and this was the path he had chosen to devote his life to. To guide, to nurture, to protect, to hope, to love.

The Abbé was... he was kind. He was wholly good, though misguided at times, and someone you could converse with for hours on end if he let you. Most of the time, he did. He was just as enthusiastic about conversing with you, someone with whom he was on equal footing despite the fact that you were both stood on unholy ground.

He cared about the patients he was charged with rehabilitating and housing; he engaged with them and encouraged their creative endeavours, be it painting, writing, singing or acting, taught the illiterate how to read and write and continued to educate those who knew the basics. He made sure that the linens were washed well - though he never doubted Maddy's abilities, he saw fit to check everything that went on in the Charenton Asylum to make sure that the patients only received the best of everything he could offer them with the limited funds available. He made sure that the entertainment provided for and by the asylum was tasteful (though he never disciplined those who put on an unscripted show; to quell their creativity would mean willfully harming their spirit, and that was unthinkable), and that the funding was adequate to cover all overheads, meagre wages, expenses, supplies, and charitable donations with any spare money every month to encourage healthy publicity to later bring about potentially increased funding... the Abbé's responsibilities were dizzying.

He couldn't even list them out to you without becoming overwhelmed, and yet he loved his position. He laughed at the patients' jokes, especially when he had heard them before so that each of them felt joy at having shared something they had rehearsed in their own rooms, he cried at their sorrows and spent time with every patient individually, he gave polite ones extra pillows and gave The Marquis all the paper and ink he required, and above all else, he cared he cared he cared.

He was an angel with revolutionary ideas, controversial medicines and methods; unfortunately and fatefully ahead of his time.

The Abbé's relationship with you, such as it was when he was forbidden to devote himself to anyone other than God, was based on a foundation of intellectual conversation and of consistent guidance, for any and all issues you encountered in your life. You spent a great deal of your time in The Marquis' quarters, laughing at his vulgarity, reading his books and asking for recommendations similar to one you had just finished and enjoyed, but most often did the two of you sit side by side, your elbows and shoulders brushing against one another's as you worked on your own tales; you, on your poems and stories, and The Marquis on his soulful depravity.

The scratching of quills on expensive paper, the smell of ink and the flickering of burning candles, deep baritone humming coming from The Marquis and the crisp and sudden turning of pages when inspiration seized him by the heart and sent him into a frenzy... it became your heaven, your solace, the one place that the Abbé knew he could find you when he needed or wanted to. It was where you retreated to at least twice a day, with Maddy having taught you that the trick to getting in to The Marquis' chambers without being caught was to make sure that you pulled the latch up before you ran it across the bolt. It allowed for a quiet entrance, as long as you pulled the door shut behind you. The Marquis would never tell on you; he welcomed your presence. He coveted it. You, who understood his creativity frenzy, for you experienced it too in your own ways.

"All we can do is guard against our own corruption." It was something the Abbé had said to you late one night, when rain had lashed against the windows and the wind had howled, thunder rumbling across the skies and scaring you. He had meant it as comfort, as something for you to think upon, though your interpretation of his wisdom was perhaps not what had been initially intended when you had confided in the Abbé. Still, you had thought on what was said to you and you had reached your own conclusions, which was really all he wanted; to share wisdom, to have conversations which came from the soul, and to share himself with someone else in one of the few ways he could as a priest. He was more than willing to guide you with cryptic statements, but what you chose to do with that was entirely up to you, and he would support it as he supported all individuality.

The Marquis, for his part, had been slowly teaching you the life-saving importance of the art of self-indulgence; to eat what you wanted, to listen, to write and to write and to write, to be innovative and yourself, even when the world was so shocked and horrified by you that it locked you away and threw away the key. Especially then, should one be true to themselves, lest they died inside long before their body had gotten to an age where it could begin to rot; unable to withstand the sands of time. You had to change, to grow and to flourish, but only as yourself; never masquerading as someone else. It would simply be a tragedy, one worthy of the Greats, if you lost who you were in your pursuit of others' approval. The Marquis had yet to teach you that the only person whose approval of your actions mattered, was your own. What good was external validation if you were still, at your very core, unhappy with yourself? You could only be happy - and untouched by corruption - if you remained true to yourself and all that that entailed.

With these two men in your life, with these lessons imparted upon you simply by spending time with them every day, you had come to the conclusion that the only way to guard yourself against corruption, was to protect your inner sense of peace. To treat yourself well, with music and books and creativity, while the world raged on outside these walls. These methods would protect you from the world's teeth, keep you from bleeding out when the world inevitably took too big of a chunk out of your too-small soul (as the world often made you feel; in reality, you were larger than life), and guard you against the evils of the world.

You were precious to the Abbé and the Marquis, too precious, and between the two of them, why, your every need was met and you were well cared for. If one man came from Heaven and the other from Hell, then perhaps you were an altogether celestial being deserving of only the best of the best. For you could unite heaven and hell, and that was sure proof of the miracle of God's love.

Or, if you asked The Marquis, it just meant that there were two sane people in the asylum - him, and you.

And finally, the prose I wrote in September has finally been typed up. I have included the censored version here to protect personal details, but I will DM you the actual version.

And a moodboard! I was gonna put it with your fics but I used GIFs for those and didn't wanna disturb the flow 🥺

I do have another moodboard for you but I've used my 10 images per post so I'll DM it to you once you've read everything so I don't give you spoilers🥺❤️

And there we have it! I hope that you enjoy, honey, and if there's anything you didn't like, then please feel free to let me know! I'm happy to write you something else.🥺💗I love you so so much, and I'm so sorry this is posted a day late - between shifts at work, uni, technical issues with my laptop, it was a challenge to get this posted but I really hope the content makes up for it all.🥺

[cipherwrites]

Sugar & Spice, Chapter 4: Evillustrator

<- Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (WIP)

And then, Stormy Weather is blown away by her own parasol turned against her, and the great Mightyllustrator saves the damsel in distress!

“Oh, Mightyllustrator, you’re my hero!” the Damsel cries out.

“Heh, it was nothing.” the hero responds nonchalantly.

“I love you, Mightyllustrator!”

“I love you too, Marinette

Nathaniel Kurtzberg, a red-haired student of Francoise Dupont Lycee, sighs as he crosses out a number of things in his comic.

Wrong, wrong, it’s all wrong! No matter how much I try to envision it or dream it up, I can’t come up with a good story. Besides, it’s not like I’d ever get a real chance to rescue Marinette like this… The young artist thinks to himself, mentally comparing his damsel figure to the similarly shy but determined target of his affected, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Nathaniel only met Marinette last year, but in the short time he’s known her, he’s known her to be a kind and charitable girl who’s been relentlessly targeted by Chloe Bourgeois for, according to his classmates, three years now. He doesn’t know why it started, and frankly, he doesn’t care. All he knows is that Marinette is a sweet, caring soul who doesn’t deserve the bull-

“Nathaniel!” a ruler slams into his desk, and the meek redhead jumps at the sight of Mme. Mendeleiev, the purple-haired science teacher. “What are you drawing?” she asks with a cruel snarl on her face, clearly annoyed that this has had to interrupt her lesson, and he gulps nervously.

“Wa, well, it’s, erm…” the young man stammers.

“These artistic endeavors of yours are clearly why you are failing science,” she says. “You have been given the option to join the art program before, but your continued ignorance of this opportunity has not gone unnoticed. March down to the principal’s office and tell him just why you’ve been doing so poorly in my class!” she orders, and the redhead gulps.

“Yes, ma’am…” he says softly and gets up, tripping over a bag and gasps, landing on the floor, his sketchbook landing open on the ground. He reaches for it, but it’s snatched up by Chloe.

“Ooh! Look, Sabrina! It's him as a superhero! And look who he's saving! It's Dupain-Cheng!” She teases.

“It’s who?!” Marinette exclaims with a blush, and several other classmates join the confusion, most of which Adrien. Which, frankly, Nathaniel can understand- that short display of anger Marinette showed him on the first day of school only impressed Nathaniel further.

“He’s totally crushing on you, you know.” Chloe taunts Marinette.

“Doesn’t seem like much of your business,” Alya retorts, defending her best friend.

“Gimme that!” Nathaniel snatches his book away from Chloe, blushing deeply.

“Enough! Nathaniel, go!” Mme. Mendeleiev states, clearly sick and tired of the interruptions to her lesson. “No more gossiping, or you’ll all be joining him in the office!”

Nathaniel rushes out of the room, not even meeting Marinette’s gaze as he does so. Lost in thought and despair, Nathaniel’s eyes wander as he moves towards the office on autopilot.

Chloe. She ruins everything! She’s devoted to ruining Marinette’s life, and she humiliates and degrades everyone around her for no good reason other than the fact that she can. She’s evil- the kind of evil that Marinette needs to be saved from.

Nathaniel stumbles just a bit as he walks, and his pen falls to the ground. He picks it up, his body moving automatically as a purple butterfly enters the pen. Nathaniel could hardly comprehend what was happening before a voice entered his mind, commanding and omnipotent through his thoughts as the helpless boy’s anger turned to an uncontrollable hatred and rage against his will.

“Are you tired of having your spirit crushed? Evillustrator, I am Hawkmoth, your friend and patron of the arts. I’m here to offer you support…but I don’t give this kind of power for free. I have a couple of items that need retrieving.”

“Name the price, and it’s yours,” Nathaniel says with contempt, transforming into Evillustrator in the darkness of the halls, leaping to the rafters to hide and wait for his prey to emerge.

---

Nathaniel? Crushing on me? I don’t even know him that well! Marinette thinks to herself.

He’s so sweet, though! He didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that, even if I don’t feel the same way.

I should talk to him, though. I’ll catch him after class.

“The next particle physics presentation group is Nino, Adrien, and Alya!” Mendeleiev announces, insistent on not letting students pick their own groups. Luckily, her loud tendencies snapped Marinette out of her thoughts.

Wow, lucky. Marinette thinks to herself, remembering that it seems like Adrien is as intelligent as he is pretty…or at least, he’s pretty good at recalling information.

“And then Sabrina, Chloé and Marinette.” Mendeleiev states and Marinette feels her heart drop.

“Oof…unlucky.” Alya cringes.

Marinette looks over at Chloe, who has a malicious grin on her perfect little face.

No no no no no no no no-

“Mademoiselle!” Marinette suddenly stands up, fear evident and spiking. “C-can I work alone, please?”

“This is a group presentation, Marinette,” Mendeleiev states. “It’s a policy of mine not to give any of my students unfair advantages or disadvantages. You’ll have to deal with it.”

“Are you gonna be okay, Marinette?” Alya asks as the bluenette slumps back into her chair.

“I…I’ll be fine, Alya!” Marinette says with a smile. “Better than fine! Don’t worry about me!”

---

Marinette stands beside Sabrina as Chloe goes through her locker with a smug look on her face.

“Forget it! I don’t have time for some dumb project. I’m sure you two can handle it on your own. You’re still nice and efficient when you put your mind to something, aren’t you, Marinette?” Chloe grins, her voice like a toxin in Marinette’s ears.

“That’s fine, Chloe!” Sabrina says. “We can do all the work, don’t worry!”

It would be easy to let this happen. To have a few days of peace while I do everything she said.

“It’ll be just like old times,” Sabrina says.

I…I don’t want to go back to old times.

“No,” Marinette says, determined.

“What was that?” Chloe glares her way.

“I said no. Those bridges have long been burned by both of us. I’m not going back to how things were!” Marinette starts to yell, and Chloe takes a step back, as if surprised by the determination that now shines in Marinette’s eyes.

“Oh, it’ll be okay, Marinette!” Sabrina says, trying to defuse the tension. “It’s all equal! I do the research, you do the writing, and Chloe presents it! That way, it’s equal.” she explains. “Chloe and I have been doing this for years, you remember!”

“I remember plenty,” Marinette says coldly. “I remember,” she turns to Chloe, “that you’re too thick to do anything yourself, so you throw your money and influence at whatever useful people you see, taking advantage of the most talented people you can find and assume they’ll stick with you just because they’re afraid of you!” She grits her teeth. “Just because they care for you. That’s not how friends work.”

“Not only am I Sabrina’s best friend,” Chloe stomps her foot, “I’m her only friend. Because when I find someone and make them mine, they are nothing without me.”

“Well, maybe some people would rather be nothing than have you!” Marinette shouts, and Chloe looks taken aback and shocked by the statement. Guilt immediately pangs Marinette.

Maybe I went too far…

“Chloe, I-”

“Whatever!” Chloe flips her hair, walking past Marinette and Sabrina. “I’ve got more important things to worry about. My hair is a hot mess and Jean Claude promised to work his magic. Later!” she slams the door and storms off, leaving Marinette and Sabrina behind.

“...fuck.” Marinette leans against the locker and falls to her knees, hands at her face to try and keep the tears from coming. “What happened to us…?”

“Marinette…are you okay?” Sabrina asks, and Marinette turns her head away. “I…thank you. I’ve never seen you stand up to anyone like that before, and…you did it for me.” she holds out her hand to Marinette. “Chloe will cool down, I promise. She just has to think…maybe you’ve finally given her something to think about.” Sabrina gives a pained smile.

Marinette looks up and takes Sabrina’s hand, letting her help her get up.

I hope so.

---

Watching from the rafters of a library, three girls enter- first two, then another, and they begin to argue. He only cares for one of them. He only hates another. He grins wide as he prepares his tablet and begins to draw…

“Ugh! What do you mean, you’re not doing my assignment?!” Chloe exclaims, scowling at Marinette and Sabrina.

“I-I’m not your slave, Chloe! Marinette’s right, you haven’t been treating me like a friend!” Sabrina defends herself.

“Well, Marinette Dupain-Cheng didn’t buy you a super cute beret at Gabriel, and I did!” Chloe boasts, holding up a new beret she clearly had delivered to the school after she stormed out.

Marinette visibly seethes in her chair.

“It…it is a cute hat…” Sabrina says, seeing Chloe holding up the hat. “And it would look good on me…” she mumbles.

“I won’t pretend to have any excuses.” Chloe huffs. “But you, Dupain-Cheng, are trying to steal my friend from me, with homework!” Chloe declares pompously.

You wanna bribe, Chloe? Let’s give you plenty to work with.

Suddenly, from above, a pile of berets falls on the rich girl!

“AGH! My hair!” Chloe complains.

From the ether, a massive hairdryer materializes and starts tormenting Chloe, who begins to scream in fear and run away.

---

“Er…was that an akuma?” Sabrina asks.

“Or the byproduct of one.” Marinette surmises. 

Okay, I’ve planned for this: make distance from civilians and transform.

“Let’s split up!” Marinette tells Sabrina. “It’ll be easier to dodge it that way. You can meet me at my house, it’s not far from here- you remember where the bakery is, right?”

“Um…y-yeah!” Sabrina nods.

“Good, go!” Marinette orders, and she and Sabrina take off in different directions. If we’re lucky, Chat Noir and I will have this akuma handled by the time I make it home.

She hides between some of the scarcely used shelves and grins. “Tikki, Spots On!”

From the shelves, Ladybug emerges and pins the hairdryer to a bookshelf. “Hide, now!” she orders, and Chloe runs away.

“I’ve gotten wind that you were being blown away by a hairy situation!” she hears a familiar voice quip, and Ladybug rolls her eyes at her partner’s humor.

“Less punning and more action, Chat Noir!” she leaps up and lands beside him. “It’s not a real akuma, just some kinda byproduct. Made by it, or something.”

“Well, then I don’t have to feel bad about doing this! Cataclysm!” He declares, and lunging for the hairdryer, it disintegrates into dust, and they all hear an exclamation of pain- a backlash for destroying something an akuma controls.

Looking up, they see some kind of feedback coming from the arm tablet of a purple man in a beret and awfully odd clothes.

“Well, that guy looks pretty sketchy!” Chat quips.

The two chase the akuma, but he gets away by creating a wall.

“He got away…most akumas we’ve faced have run to get a better vantage point, but that’s only after trying to fight us.” Ladybug murmurs. “Where could he be going?”

“I don’t know, but he sure has a way of illustrating his point.” Chat grins, and Ladybug can’t help but wheeze out a frustrated chuckle.

“Is there some kind of punning superpower I don’t know about?” she teases her partner.

“I got more where that came from, I can do this all day!” Chat grins.

Ladybug shakes her head, her smile never leaving her face. “Alright, the akuma was targeting Chloe Bourgeois, so we should find her.”

“To the Grand Paris!” Chat Noir points dramatically in the wrong direction.

---

“Seems like the akuma’s targeting you specifically, Chloe. Any idea why?” Chat Noir asks, standing with Ladybug in Chloe’s room in the Grand Paris. Ladybug is tapping her foot impatiently- she probably has somewhere to be. She’s a busy little bee! Er, bug. That’s why they need to be so efficient; unlike Adrien, Ladybug’s civilian identity actually has a life outside the mask.

“No! Everyone adores me.” Chloe states.

“Right, 'cause you’re sooo adorable…” Ladybug mutters, and Chat holds back a laugh at his partner’s sarcasm. Unfortunately, Chloe doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“Yes! Ladybug just said I'm adorable! I totally need a picture of the two of us together!” she says and forcibly takes a selfie of them both with her phone, and afterward Ladybug walks to the balcony with Chat.

“That was unpleasant…” she mumbles.

“Well, I look great, of course, but your smile is all wonky. I'll take another!” Chloe says from behind them, but Ladybug stops her.

“Not now, Chloe. I’m…camera shy,” she says as she continues onto the balcony with her partner.

“Well, someone’s got a fan.” Chat Noir teases.

“Yeah, great.” She rolls her eyes.

“Alright, what’s bugging you? No pun intended this time, either.” Chat says with a gentler smile.

“Let’s just say I can’t stand this girl, even with a mask on.” she sighs and looks at her bugphone.

Eh, that’s not really a clue. Chloe tends to leave a bad impression on most people- Ladybug could be a student at Dupont, but she could just as easily be the daughter of someone working for Chloe.

“I…I need to go.” Ladybug says hesitantly. “I have somewhere to be if I want to preserve my identity. I can probably be back in a few hours- can you protect her until then?” Ladybug asks.

“I can handle it Ladybug, no sweat! Go, go! Make an alibi.” Chat Noir insists, giving his leader a salute.

The smile Ladybug gives him as she swings away makes his heart flutter more than the little butterflies that plague Paris.

“Ahh! Ladybug! Text me!” Chloe calls after her desperately.

---

Marinette breathes deeply as she arrives home, seeing Sabrina pacing around in the main room of the bakery. She steps in, and Sabrina runs up to her.

“MarinetteIwassoworriedItriedcallingbutyouneverpickedupIwasworriedtheakumagotyou-” Sabrina begins rambling, and Marinette smiles kindly, taking Sabrina’s wrists before she can drape herself over Marinette.

“Whoa, Sabrina! Calm down. I just got a bit turned around, and my phone ran out of charge.” 

And to cover my bases, I turned my phone off before stepping inside.

“So…you’re okay?” Sabrina asks.

“I’m okay. Come on, let’s go upstairs and get our project started,” she says with a kind smile.

Marinette and Sabrina don’t talk much. They divided the project into three actual equal parts, created a shared slideshow, and sent it to Chloe with a list of what she’ll need to do. While they work, they don’t talk much, even when Sabrina tries to start it. Quite honestly, Marinette doesn’t want to talk with Sabrina for too long.

If I talk with Sabrina too much, she’ll start talking about Chloe, and…and I don’t want to talk about her right now.

About 30 minutes pass, the duo making a good start on their project, and as Sabrina’s about to come up with some snacks Mari’s parents made, the girls hear what sounds like some kind of wiping- Marinette’s on her bed, Sabrina on the ladder up to the room- and Marinette’s eyes widen as her window erases, and a familiar form enters the room: the akuma.

“You-!” Marinette’s eyes widened, resisting the urge to call for Tikki immediately. “What are you doing here?” she questions, but rather than the rigid expression she saw before, the man’s expression softens to a fond look.

That’s…not the look of someone who knows I’m Ladybug.

“I-I just wanted to see you!” he insists.

 Or it’s a fanboy. Then I’ve got a whole new thing to deal with.

“If that’s all you wanted, why did you attack Chloe?” Marinette questions.

 “Because Chloe is vicious and cruel!” he growls, and Marinette winces a bit.

“I can’t…argue with that,” she says hesitantly. “So…what happens now? Are you going to abduct me? Attack me?”

“Never,” the young man says, which catches Marinette a little off guard. “You’re Marinette! You’re beautiful, sweet, and kind, and smart and…you’re perfect, I could never hurt you!” he expresses with a lovestruck expression.

Okay, let’s think about this. Akumas increase emotional states. A crush turned to obsession…a disdain for Chloe that likely happened today…art coming to life…

As Marinette connects the dots, it’s like a window shattering. Her eyes widen as she sees Nathaniel’s face beyond the veil of the akuma, the Quantum Mask that shrouds identity broken for her and her only, bringing with it an uncanny feeling of confusion that she ever saw anything but the boy behind the mask.

Oh, Nathaniel. What has he done to you?

“Nathaniel, what happened to you?” Marinette asks, concerned.

“My name is Evillustrator now, Marinette. It’s my birthday tonight, and I was hoping we could have a party. Just you and me, on the seine!” he offers excitedly.

“Tonight…” Marinette whispers, seeing the trapdoor opening slightly, seeing the terrified Sabrina staring at the scene like a deer in headlights.

If I let anything loose about the group project, there’s no telling who he’ll hurt to make sure he has me to himself!

“I’ll do it,” Marinette says, and Evillustrator looks ecstatic. “On one condition.”

“Of course, Marinette!” Evillustrator grins. “Anything for you!”

“You can’t hurt Chloe. Or anyone anymore. No more fighting.” She orders.

“You are a gentle soul, Marinette. For you, and you only. I’ll wait for you next to Notre Dame, at sunset!” he expresses before leaping out of the window.

Marinette waits for a beat before groaning loudly, falling facefirst onto her bed.

“What were you thinking?!” Sabrina suddenly bursts through.

“I’m thinking that this is the only way to keep people safe!” Marinette says sadly.

“Marinette, you’re brave, but isn’t this a bit much?” Sabrina asks. “I mean, er…the project! We have to finish the project, right?”

She’s reaching for anything she can to try and get me out of this. Even after everything, Sabrina is sweet and kind.

“You should go home, Sabrina,” Marinette smiles. “You know me. I can get this whole thing cranked out by tonight.”

“Marinette…” Sabrina sighs. “I’ll…I’ll get my Dad! Then we can-”

“No.” Marinette shakes her head. “The Police are useless against akumas. I don’t want anyone else to be hurt.”

“Marinette…” Sabrina whimpers, but lowers her head to acquiesce. 

---

“Ohhh... Sabrina is so selfish! Making me do this project by myself?! Ugh, my brain hurts... Huh? Hey! Cat Noir, Are you any good at particle physics?” Chloe looks at the black cat, and he sighs a bit.

“Well, I’m not bad at it…” he says, trying not to share that he’s pretty good at science as a whole. Which Plagg laughs up considering how much of my life will now revolve around magic…

“Ah! Great!” Chloe says and pulls him by his arm. “Sit, kitty!” she orders and shoves project materials into his arms. “Now, make it sound purr-fect for my presentation. See what I did? I made a cat joke! Ha! I can be funny.” she states, and Chat Noir just stares at her.

“Hilarious,” he says sarcastically.

C’mon, Chloe, I’m trying to empathize with you, don’t make it so hard for me.

At that moment, his staff rings, and he drops the materials to the ground and starts to walk back out to the balcony. “Sorry, Mme., I've got a call from the Lady in Red!” he says and leans on the balcony as he answers. “You know, Ladybug, some may call it unprofessional to be catcalling during work hours.” Chat Noir teases and is met by a smirk.

“Well, what if I told you that you didn’t have to worry about Chloe anymore?” She asks.

“I’d say I’m listening. I didn’t see any magic ladybugs, so I doubt the akuma’s beaten…” Chat Noir responds.

“The akuma calls himself Evillustrator. He went to a civilian’s house and talked to her, and she answered some of my questions. Not only that, but he asked her on a date.” Ladybug explains.

“The akuma’s a lovebug? What, did Chloe diss his crush or something?” Chat asks.

“You could say that.” Ladybug sends an image, and Chat’s eyes widen. “Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Cute, huh?”

Ah. I see why Chloe was attacked now.

“M’Lady, are you trying to set me up with an akuma’s crush? Scandalous.” he teases, and he can practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“I’ve told her my basic plan, and I’ll need you to protect her tonight and fight the akuma without me. I’ll be indisposed.” She explains.

Guess that alibi’s going on longer than expected. But hold on…

“What about your Lucky Charm? Or the Miracle Cure?” He asks, worried.

“I’ve gone over it with Tikki. This is the ideal time to test out the capabilities of our powers without the Ladybug, in case something happens to me. Evillustrator is more docile than most akuma, after all, so it’ll be more of a trial by matchlight than trial by fire.” she explains.

“A fair point,” Chat nods. “What’s the plan?”

“All Miraculous weapons have a kind of…hammerspace, for lack of a better term. Only the Ladybug can use that space to purify an akuma, since I then use the energy from that akuma with my Miracle Cure to pinpoint what exactly got broken and fix it. However, you can still hide the akuma in there, and it’ll remain even if you detransform. Keep the akuma contained, and we’ll meet at the Eiffel at Midnight for me to purify the akuma.” Ladybug explains.

“What about the Lucky Charm?” Chat Noir asks.

“I left it with Marinette for you. You’ll need to figure it out from there, but I’m sure it’ll come in handy,” she explains.

Chat sighs dreamily. “You really thought of everything.” he fiddles with his bell. “And…you really think I can do this without you?” he asks.

“I believe in you, Chat Noir. Take the akuma down,” she says, and he smiles.

“I won’t let you down, M’lady!” he says, determined, hanging up as he launches off.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Chloe yells after him, but Chat just smiles as he heads for the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

---

Marinette had already told her parents about everything, and while they were terrified, Marinette assured them she’d be protected by Chat Noir, and she’d be arming herself with some pepper spray (though they insisted she also take a knife).

She looks down at the Lucky Charm in her hands- a small red tablet pen. As she turns it over in her hand, she hears an impact on the balcony above her, and she sighs. Showtime.

“Nathaniel…? Is that you…?” she wonders aloud, doing her best to sound as normal as possible, and as she heads to the balcony, she sees Chat Noir, bowing dramatically towards her (yet not making eye contact…weird).

“Good evening, young lady! The name’s Chat Noir.” he smiles wide.

“I assumed as much,” she smiles a bit and shakes his hand. “So, you’re here to protect me?”

“Yep! That birthday boy date of yours is bad news. Don’t worry, though, you’ll be safe with me!” the leather-clad hero boasts.

“That puts my mind at ease,” Marinette says, resisting the urge to tease him.

“But I may need a little help…” he says, frowning as he sees the tablet pen. “I hear you’re pretty creative. Care to assist a superhero?” he asks hopefully.

We haven’t even begun yet, and he’s already asking for help. Silly kitty.

“And what would Ladybug think of you asking another girl for help with your hero work?” she asks teasingly.

“Well, maybe you could be my Ladybug tonight.” he challenges, and the two grin at each other, before they blush a bit, as if they both realize some kind of mistake made, and turn away from each other.

“I couldn’t imagine fighting crime with the heroes of Paris. No matter how amazing it might be…” Marinette quickly dissuades.

“Yeah, erm…just get the pen from Evillustrator, and I can do the rest!” Chat Noir says.

---

Evillustrator sits on the boat of his own creation, sketching additional things for his date with Marinette. It has to be perfect, it must be perfect. She deserves nothing less.

“That is a lovely scene you’re setting.” the voice of Hawkmoth enters his mind. “But you’d best not get distracted, boy.” He threatens.

“I just want Marinette to love me…” he responds, and he feels a pang of pain enter his mind.

“And I want the Miraculous, so get them…or else,” he threatens, and Evillustrator feels a pain course through his body. “I’ll show you what else my Miraculous can do when a ‘failsafe’ is required.”

“Okay, I will, I will!” Evillustrator promises desperately, and the pain leaves him as he hears footsteps.

“Happy Birthday.” he hears, and he sees Marinette wearing a beautiful dress with a floral pattern, a purse at her side with a pair of flat shoes, and her hair tied in a braid down her back.

“Marinette!” the akuma stands up, smiling. “Thank you for coming,” he says, making a bridge for her to step onto the boat from the seine’s edge.

“It’s all so beautiful,” Marinette says as she steps on board.

“You like it? Well, hold on, ‘cause I’m just getting started!” He says gladly, about to draw something more, but dark clouds begin to roll in, blocking the moon from view. “No…no! Come on, you’ve gotta be kidding!” he complains, and after seeing the way Marinette looks at him, he tries to compose himself. “Uhm, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. It's just... I can't draw properly in the dark.” he explains and draws a glowing sphere in the nearby sky resembling the moon, using a lantern to supply light. “Voila!” he smiles.

The two ride on the boar, playing music from his pad, and Marinette soon scotts closer to him.

“You're very talented, Nathaniel.” She says.

“It’s Evi-” he begins, but Marinette puts her finger to his lips.

“Try as you might, Nathaniel, nothing you can do can make me call you evil,” she says gently, and he blushes deeply, unable to argue with her. “What I’d like to know is why you’d use this power to hurt people.” 

“Not all people!” Evillustrator clarifies. “Just Chloe. And I'll never do it again. After all, you were true to your promise, so I'll be true to mine.” He says kindly.

“I draw a little too, you know, for my fashion designs. I actually made what I’m wearing tonight.” She says, and his eyes light up.

“Really? It’s very pretty…” he says.

“Is it okay if I try drawing something?” she whispers to him, and he swallows. “I could draw something special for your birthday.”

“Y-yes…that would be amazing,” he says, and she touches the pen, both of their hands now gripping it, and then Evillustrator notices something out of the corner of his vision…a dark shape with glowing green eyes.

“Marinette, wait, give me the pen back. I need to draw something now!” he expresses.

“Sorry, Nathaniel,” Marinette responds and starts to run. “Chat Noir, the moon!”

“Cataclysm!” Chat Noir declares, destroying the moon Evillustrator created and causing a feedback that causes Evillustrator to wince, plunging everything into darkness!

“Marinette! Are you working with him? I'm so stupid... I actually thought you liked me! But you're really just like Chloe. Teasing me, mocking me, leading me on!” Evillustrator begins, gripping his head, and he charges for Marinette! He tackles her down, grabbing the pen from her as he throws her against Chat Noir, who catches her as the two seem to be thrown back!

“Now I’ve got you!” Evillustrator grins as he starts to draw on his tablet, crouching down to the lantern, but…nothing?

“Sorry, Evillustrator, but that’s not your pen,” Chat Noir smiles, and the akuma’s eyes widen as he sees the red pen with black spots, which he can only make out now in the light of the lantern. “This is!” Chat Noir snaps the real pen, and the akuma flutters out, which Chat Noir immediately catches inside of his staff.

“No-” Evillustrator exclaims as he transforms back into Nathaniel and falls to the ground, nearly passing out from the exertion.

“All right! Pound it!” Chat Noir says, and Marinette’s eyes widen a bit. “Oh, er…” Chat stammers. “Sorry, it’s a thing Ladybug and I do when we win, and…I guess it’s kinda muscle memory-”

“Hey.” Marinette smiles and holds up her fist. “It’s cool,” she says, and Chat smiles wide as they bump fists. “Now go find your Lady, so she can fix all of this,” she says, referring to the things Evillustrator had summoned, and she walks over to Nathaniel.

“Come on, Nathaniel. Let’s get you home…and talk.” Marinette suggests.

“Okay.” Nathaniel nods a little bit.

---

“So you don’t even know why they left?” Alya asks Chloe, exasperated. 

“Not at all! Clearly, that akuma knew not to mess with me.” She says, flipping her hair over her shoulder dismissively, and Marinette sighs as she watches failing to get very substantial information about the akuma from Chloe.

“So, you’re really going back to Chloe?” Marinette asks Sabrina, not too far away.

“She’s doing more than usual!” Sabrina tries to defend, but the new beret Sabrina is sporting doesn’t go over Marinette’s head.

Well…there’s some doubt there! Maybe.

“Hey, Marinette!” she hears Adrien call, and she smiles fondly as Adrien walks up to her. “I heard about your adventures with Chat Noir yesterday. Were you scared?” he asks.

“Oh, uh, plenty!” Marinette says.

Which isn’t really a lie. It was my first time going toe-to-toe with an akuma without the Miraculous.

“But Chat Noir was there! He saved me.” Marinette smiles.

“So, what did you think of Chat Noir?” Adrien asks. “Not many people talk about him. Was he awesome?”

“Yeah…he was.” Marinette smiles a bit. “Maybe cooler than you.” she teases, and he laughs a bit.

“Marinette, you wound me!” He smiles a bit playfully, and the two walk out of the classroom as the bell rings, chatting until they head to Adrien’s car, upon which he heads home.

I talked with Adrien! We joked around! We had fun!

Marinette’s eyes wander, and she smiles as she sees Nathaniel finally heading to the art club to give himself a proper outlet, so his emotions can no longer be taken advantage of, while everyone around her gossips about the recent KIDZ+ scandal regarding the Weather Girl competition, and the exact reason why there are two girls now, not just one.

Life is good.

[johaerys-writes]

Could you pls do 3, 6, 15, 19, 23, 28 & 30 for patrochilles?

Thank you so much!!! I had so much fun answering these 💙💙

Who smokes and who pulls the cigarette from between their lips every time they try to light one? 

Okay so I have this headcanon that Achilles took up smoking at some point in highschool because he was hanging out with the Cool KidsTM, and every time he tried to light a cigarette Patroclus would pull it from his lips and bring it to his own, lighting it up himself instead. Then Achilles started doing the same. Sweet boys stealing kisses because they're both too shy and baby to confess their feelings 🥺

Who can fall asleep anywhere (and does) and who has to put them to bed?

Achilles falls asleep super easily - as soon as he closes his eyes, he's asleep in seconds. But I have a feeling he's more or less alert until he gets himself to bed, he isn't the type to fall asleep when he does not mean to. Patroclus, on the other hand, constantly falls asleep during movies lol, so Achilles always bridal carries him to bed and tucks him in 🥰

Who unconciously holds their breath the first time they kiss, and who pulls back and says, "Breathe..."?

Patroclus, 100%!!!! The first time they kissed he had a mini brain melt, and every time they kissed for a little while thereafter, until he was finally convinced that no, this isn't a dream or some sort of one-time thing, that he can actually kiss Achilles all the time now if he wants to. Achilles finds this very cute and adorable, hehe

Who has the plain black phone case, and who ordered one with cat ears off ebay?

Ooh that's a good one. I feel like Patroclus is the kind of person that doesn't really splurge on superfluous stuff, he's learnt how to get by with few things since he was a kid so most of his possessions are utilitarian. Achilles on the other hand lives to impress, so cat ear phonecase it is!! (Also, he's a catboy at heart 😸)

+Bonus headcanon: one of the very few things Patroclus splurges on is stationary, he has tons of notebooks, fun pens, highlighters, washi tape, you name it, and his notes at school and college are always super pretty. 

Who gets offended by the intensity of the other's crush on a celebrity?

Ahah that would be Achilles. He just can't accept that Patroclus can adore anyone other than him. I've been watching the Sandman recently and thinking about Patroclus going all heart eyes when the Corinthian shows up (because he's HAWT) and Achilles pouting until Patroclus reassures him that yes, Achilles is prettier and smarter and more charming and-- what? Yes, of course his hair looks better and yes Patroclus still loves him to the moon and back, and---

Who runs their battery down to 1% and who feels the need to charge theirs at 80%?

Achilles is totally the one to play fast and loose when it comes to charging his phone, whereas Patroclus not only makes sure his phone is fully charged before leaving home, but also tends to carry a power bank with him when he knows he'll be out for hours. Gotta be prepared for everything!!

Who would rather be barefoot if the setting is appropriate, and who has the huge and spectacular shoe collection (possibly also socks)? 

Achilles would 100% go shoeless or shirtless or pantless at any given opportunity because he's a shameless exhibitionist and loves wearing as little as possible. He also has a huge and expensive shoe collection because of course he would. However, fun socks are definitely Patroclus' department 😌

Feel free to send me more otp asks from this list!