#My current idea is to give a little bit of a white border around him on the actual charm but idk maybe without would look better. Who knows

[fantasykiri5]

Chat how are we feeling about this guy

[pansexualkiba]

@panda-monium64 you've always loved enabling me when it comes to these. You may actually recall this first batch, in fact.

THIS IS GOING TO BE PART 1 OF A SERIES

TOUHOU GAIMAKEN ~ WESTERN DEMON INVASION

This one is sooooo middle school it HURTS. To be fair, this and the second one WERE made in middle school, so if the tone of the ones after really fucking shift into... not too embarrassing, that's why.

The plot: A huge fucking mansion has appeared in an uninhabited grassland along the edge of the Hakurei Border. From it, there's been an outpouring of foreign youkai and humans alike. This wouldn't actually be a problem if it weren't for the fact that, 1) For some reason, there have been false alarms of a giant breach in random places all along the border, and 2) all of the youkai are more along the mentality of Hell: needlessly flaunting their strength without regards to anything - or, more simply put, they're just skipping the danmaku and going straight to Attacking.

You're seeing what I mean when I say "this is soooo middle school" I was THEEE edgy teen back then. I tried to wear the amulet from a vampire Halloween costume on a daily basis. As I get into this first batch of characters you'll see that they're CRYSTALLIZED chuunibyou like I know it's not really an appellation you can give to an American emo teen but I was SOOOOOOO chuuni it's ridiculous. On some level I still am but now there's a level of self-awareness that lets me know this shit is CRINGE.

DIVIN SHIRONE Guardian Angel from Far Off Species: Angel Ability: Capable of reflecting light An angel sent by the bureaucracy of Heaven to make sure that humans under her watch aren't lead astray. She ended up being swept into Gensokyo with her current charge, however, and now she's at a loss as to what to do. She was hoping that she could leave at some point, but she was struck down by the protagonist when she went to ask for directions out. As it turns out, that action was futile, so now she's resting around the area, waiting to find a human that needs guidance.

First up: the first stage midboss. She never appears after this, btw, I think I just fucking forgot she existed. The mixing of a mangled english first name and that utauloid-ass last name... Is she a vtuber (lol)? Her ability is also a fucking joke on the fact that she's essentially just a white girl wearing white clothing. It's called being snow-blind. Still, for a stage one midboss, you could do worse than some random bitch who just wanted directions out.

LILILILI NEKONEKO Cat Monster Armed to the Teeth Species: Cat youkai Ability: Capable of forging swords A youkai that was born when a pet housecat was caught in a magical explosion. Rather than dying, she was reborn as a cat youkai. Immature, she still felt loyal to her owner, so she went to go find him. Her feelings towards him are more of a daughter's feelings towards a beloved father. Her ability allows her to create swords, provided she has even the tiniest bit of scrap metal. She is not seen without at least one sword on her person. She later showed up to use her sword creation power to arm Akuma with a blade powerful enough to defeat the protagonist. This did not work.

THIS ONE... OH MY GOD. Okay the LORE of this character: I made the initial template of this character in Walfas (WALFAS. THAT'S HOW OLD THIS CHARACTER IS.), but I made it under the artistic direction of my FUCKING SEVEN-YEAR-OLD SISTER. Granted, I asked her for this, but what we ended up with was some random little catgirl in full Yuyuko cosplay. I don't even remember what her original ability was, but when I later codified these characters, I changed it to "making swords" and made it so she wasn't. fucking dressed like Yuyuko. I didn't change her name, though. This is because I wanted to embarrass my sister and also because I love this like, stupid little idea that she named herself because she doesn't want to be, like, named "Stinky". Also originally, her feelings towards her old owner were "she thinks he's her big brother", but I changed that too. Speaking of...

BAKUTO SAKURETSU Red-Hot Explosive Temperament Species: Human Ability: Capable of causing explosions A rare man who actually understands the beauty of danmaku. Will relentlessly pursue anyone who ticks him off. Seemed to have gained his powers recently, but they've been growing stronger at an exceptional rate. The previous owner of Lililili. Doesn't seem to recognize her in the slightest, so he feels extremely cold to her bouts of affection. After causing a massive explosion following a traumatic event, Bakuto went to seek sanctuary in the House of Damien, which he had heard of in whispers. However, he can't remember who the whispers were from. Though he didn't know it, these whispers were the workings of Beto. He's honestly just here for a good time in this transient world.

GOD. GOD. GOD. GOD. GOD. GOD. GODDDDDD. I TOLD YOU THIS SHIT WAS MIDDLE SCHOOL CRINGE. In case you're wondering, the "traumatic event" was just that his boyfriend was cheating on him and he caught them. So he fucking got so apoplectic that he gained explosion powers. FUN FACT: I was in middle school WELL BEFORE My Hero Academia was real. I like to imagine Horikoshi is such a hack writer he used telegraphy powers to steal my ideas from across the globe (lol). Bakuto is another character that doesn't actually show up past this "game", but I think later Sumireko's gonna meet him again and have little notes that Bakuto's "really simmered down after meeting Kourin" which implies that the one thing Bakuto needed to become domestic is the worst dick in his life.

MAIKO AMEGUMO Maid of Torrential Downpours Species: Human Ability: Capable of causing rain A random maid of the House of Damien. She used to be the head maid for a notoriously rich man. She often found herself imagining herself as the heroine in a terrible romantic light novel, in which the rich man fell in love with a poorer maid of his. So, while it was no shock to us that he chose someone he was actually attracted to instead, she was in shock. She ended up flooding the entire manor in a fit of grief, and was only saved because she thought to leave the manor beforehand. Now out of a job, she wandered around a bit before finding herself at another large manor in the middle of nowhere. There, she was welcomed by the head maid of the House of Damien. Regardless, she was as surprised by the change of scenery as anyone else, so she simply continued her duties. Her ability is the creation of rain clouds. She can control just how much rain falls and how hard it does so. Mainly, she uses this ability to clean.

THIS CHICK... PARASOCIAL??? YOU NEED TO LOG OFF??? I love the downplaying I keep putting in these early bios like GIRL YOU'RE ON THE RUN FOR MASS MURDER. Fun fact! This essentially makes her kind of a warped foil to Bakuto. Bakuto was in a relationship that ended... explosively. Meanwhile, Maiko had the fantasy of a relationship that she ended up killing everyone even remotely involved when she learned it wasn't real. They even have fire and water powers. I like to think they'd be friends if I didn't make it so they canonically despise each other.

GASHAKO KIKINMARU Eater of This World's Transient Forms Species: Yuurei Ability: Capable of eating forever A ghost bound to her skull. Long ago, she ate only gourmet foods, but one day, during a famine, she was forced to eat her own family. Later, she ate herself. Because of the evil nature of her death, she became a ghost, haunting her remains (which were never properly found). Later, her manor was converted into the House of Damien, but not without her knowing. She is bound specifically to her skull, and can therefore not exist more than a few feet from it. She can, however, pick it up, which saves her some mobility issues. Because she's a ghost, she doesn't have to worry about physical limitations all that much, which comes in handy because she's always hungry.

OH GOD.... OKAY. THERE'S A BIT OF LORE WITH THIS BITCH. Keep in mind: I was a HELLACIOUS little weeb. Around this time, mothy's songs were getting REALLY big. You see where I'm going with this. Additionally, this was actually the FIRST Touhou OC I ever made. This was because, as a chuuni little bitch, I had a fucking FAKE SKULL I liked to carry around. You can see where those influences came into play here. Even WORSE was the fact that Gashako Kikinmaru wasn't even her original name. Whereas with Lili, the design changed but the name didn't, the opposite happened: I kept the design (because it genuinely fucks, it's like, blue on blue on white with bone decals and she's sickening), but the name... Her name was just two Mortal Kombat characters. I'll let you guess which ones. Lastly, this bitch ended up being my first "prediction" character because her "ability to continuously eat" ended up predating Yuuma Toutetsu. A mess of a character. I love her.

BETO The Footsteps You Hear at Night Species: Betobeto-san Ability: Capable of creating footsteps An old-fashioned youkai from the Nara prefecture. She spent quite some time tormenting travelers on moonlit paths, but as the world got brighter, she began to lose power. People just weren't afraid of disjointed footsteps when the path was well-lit. She ended up leaving the prefecture, and found herself staring into the eyes of Akuma. They were both in shock. The two ended up becoming good friends, however, so it apparently all works out in the end. Akuma required a place to stay, unfortunately, so Beto led her to an old abandoned manor she had heard about. This was Gashako's old manor, and she let them live there. Beto, now with two friends when she previously had none, suddenly desired more company, so she sought out people who ended up wandering down the path looking dejected. This also ended up including many foreign youkai. Upon hearing one of their plans to relocate to Gensokyo, Beto thought to herself, "Perhaps I could go there as well." She couldn't bear the thought of leaving behind Akuma, however, so they made plans to transport the entire House of Damien (as they had begun calling it). Beto, unaware that the Barrier actually accepted foreign arrivals like theirs, began to use her power to set off false alarms all over the entire border to distract from the real Incident: the transportation of the House of Damien. While it succeeded, their stealth mission was spoiled by several of the foreign youkai running out and causing a havoc, not knowing of Gensokyo's rules.

Honestly my favorite of this group. She's so fucking creepy and I love her for it. Canonically she also doesn't have eyes. Like I cover her face with a veil but she DOES NOT have eyes. Imagine going from some friendless loser to snagging TWO bad bitches and essentially opening up a homeless shelter for monsters and humans alike. She likes sneaking up behind people, as well. There's also a bit from the actual story I like where in the middle of the fight she just stops and asks if this makes her and the protag friends and when they just go "...I guess? What?" she just happily continues attacking and only leads you to Akuma because you're friends now. :)

AKUMA DAEMON Grand Demon Lord of the House of Damien Species: Demon Ability: Capable of creating invisible walls A Western-style demon. She found herself quite disliking the whims and ways of her more bloodthirsty compatriots, so she set off from Hell, hoping to reform. Eventually, she found the best way to become a decent person was to use charity, and so she traveled the world, doing various good deeds. She would often change her name doing so, as her true name is quite unpronounceable to those that do not speak Daemonic. Currently, as her travels have taken her to Japan, she goes by Akuma. While in Japan, she happened upon Beto, and the two became fast friends. "I could finally settle down," is what Akuma thought. However, they would need a house. Fortunately, they found Gashako's old manor, and since she wasn't using it, the three converted it into a sanctuary for outcasts and monsters alike. Soon, they found the need to relocate. But where? Beto had heard whispers of a place called Gensokyo, said to be a haven for the world's fleeting population for mythological beings and figures. Akuma, readily agreeing, began the transport as soon as Beto provided the necessary distractions. And so, the House of Damien was now on a grassland along the far side of the Hakurei Border. Invigorated by the natural magical energy permeating Gensokyo, many of the various monsters and humans with powers went out to see how things are, not knowing the rules of Gensokyo. And thus was the Foreign Youkai Incident.

This name........ Bro I COULD NOT have picked a more EDGY NAME IF I TRIEDDDDDD. In case you're wondering, Lili is the stage 6 midboss, and she gives Akuma (THIS NAME....) what's essentially Excalibur. But because it's a replica, it can't guarantee victory. Anyways, Akuma (WAUGH) has a gimmick to her fight where she'll use her ability to make invisible walls to just, actively close in the screen borders, giving you less room to move around in. This actually probably makes her the most difficult of all bosses I've designed. Imagine trying to dodge with an incredibly narrow X-Axis... Terrifying. That right there is why she's the boss. However, if this fucking name doesn't scream middle school edge... Oh my god you're not ready for the extra boss.

AKAKO (ROSE EVANS) The Girl Stained in Red and Ichor Species: Human Ability: Capable of causing fear A girl from a completely different dimension. In the dimension she hails from, zombies overtook the entire world. Rose is one of the last humans surviving. The incident happened sometime in 2005. What was said to be uncontrollable nuclear radiation mutated corpses so that they would ambulate. The truth of this matter is much more sinister, but let's ignore that for now. With no real concept of life or death, the zombies could still be exterminated using brute strength or impressive magic. Rose is the one using brute strength. Utilizing a road sign that she scavenged, she set out, taking out zombie after zombie. Eventually, she gained no sense of fear, but her general aura instilled apprehension and fear into the hearts of others. One day, she discovered a lone scientist who had developed a dimensional transporter. It would send her to other dimensions. And it did. However, alternate dimensions and zombies were still a thing of fantasy in the dimension she was heading, so she ended up getting intercepted by the Hakurei Border. Upon arrival, her power immediately manifested and kicked into full overdrive. A passing fairy, fainting almost immediately, uttered "Akako"... And that is how Akako came to be in Gensokyo.

Every time. Every time I review WDI's characters, I actively skip Akako because it's SOOO chuuni. What IS THIS. Alternate dimensions? Zombie apocalypses? USING A STOP SIGN AS A WEAPON? AND THIS FUCKING NAME. ROSE EVANS? AKAKO? GIRL GET A COOLER NAME. YOU'RE FROM THE APOCALYPSE NAME YOURSELF SOME SHIT LIKE COMBUSTION ENGINE OR SOMETHING. Imagine getting assigned Akako at Fairy I think I'd just fucking leave. Also of course her eyes glow red. Of course they do. Miss thing's the PINNACLE of edge. Luckily this means it doesn't get too bad later.

All the characters have some charm. It's just... God, Gaimaken was a fucking ROUGH START. All of them have shades of this level of chuuni, but this is where it's ACTIVELY BAD. They don't really show up all that much in later installments (unless I put Akako in the phantasmagoria-type...? Eh, I forgot who I made playable in that one anyways.), but that's mostly because I think the ending is that everyone essentially integrates seamlessly into either Hell or Gensokyo, and meanwhile Akuma (BLEGH), Beto, and Gashako are just having fun in their giant fucking house with their seventy maids. As mentioned, Bakuto starts getting disgustingly domestic with Kourin despite everything else about himself and he vanishes entirely. Lili ends up trying to arm the feral cats in Mayohiga. Akako is somewhere in the woods I think. Divin has evaporated from the plot and probably left Gensokyo entirely.

And meanwhile, on the exact opposite side of Gensokyo, a new structure appears... This one more internally thematic, but still stupidly middle school.

[patinathing]

I've been watching some dude podcasts interviews. Trump & Bernie. Some of my takeaways.

I've been a comedy fan for a while - seen a lot of these people around for years. I went to a Texan pan-handle state school for college. I've got 4,000 hours in CS:GO. I think I'm pretty well versed in white boys.

Theo Von interview of Trump:

[Theo Von is a Louisiana man - he has a mullet - I have seen a special or two of his years back - I found them funny.]

Theo Von is a guy with worries [namely healthcare, drug crisis, border stuff - he mentions that he recently interviewed boarder guards] - Trump redirects a lot of points, gives agreements, doesn't really point to real solutions - but gives nods and certainly listens long enough to maintain something conversational.

To note - The week before that interview Von interviewed Bernie Sanders. During that interview he pitched that his ideal ticket would be a Trump & Bernie ticket. Bernie laughed - it was a funny idea. But I think a lot of people share similar thoughts due to the two of them speaking to a lot of the same real anxieties - Healthcare, cost of living, lack of opportunity, drug crisis, etc. (Trump with pretty vapid promises - Bernie I'd say with more coherent vision.)

Trump in the interview comes off as a human - because he is one - speaks to his older brother struggling with alcoholism, and his personal sobriety.

The queers were not mentioned once ;-;

Theo Von and Trump both knew Kid Rock's Dad. Barron was a fan of the podcast - told his father to get on. Theo was kind of hyped about it. They are big UFC fans. They <3 Dana White.

Von had clearly chosen him as his preferred candidate in the election.

The last couple minutes are a greatest hits of the criminal immigrants thing - Theo had been doing some reading.

Trump and Von end on an interesting note - Trump saying that Kamala wouldn't go on a podcast like this [he was correct.] Theo saying he was interested in learning about her.

My main takeaways: Theo Von like many people comes across as pretty genuine. He has problems, anxieties, and nitpicks with the government. And he's interested in talking to people who are making those decisions. I disagree with some of his anxieties and possible solutions, but he saw more of his problems being solved by Trump than by Kamala. I don't think those problems will be solved by him. I'd be interested in who he'd chose in a Bernie v Trump race - considering he had time with both of them (and if he thought one or the other might actually address his problems more.) It's certainly possible that a fair number of people viewing that podcast [currently ~16million views] may have never seen Trump candidly in a relaxed conversation. Trump can listen - I think he's quite good at picking up on what people react to. I think this podcast likely made him more palatable to a number of people with similar issues to Theo.

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

FLAGRANT [podcast] Bernie Sanders Rips DC Corruption, The Israel Lobby, & Reveals How Billionaires Buy Politicians

Surprisingly good interview. Bernie gets to have some time being an endearing grandpa who wants you to get educated [if you want to get educated.] Says education should be fun, and teachers should be valued, healthcare, and love and joy and happiness. The podcasters are clearly a bit awestruck - the sponsored ads terribly contrast with Bernie.

I think the podbois bring up an interesting parallel between the 2016 primary debacle with Bernie the stereotype of a "Bernie Bros" and the 2024 election loss the stereotype of "Dude Podcasts." Both of the stereotypes seeming to be trumpeted from people looking to blame an electoral loss on some sort of "toxic male other" outside of a deeply unpopular party.

More guys. Wondering what the fuck they are supposed to do. Possibly a little edgy - need to watch their Eric Adams interview ("NYC Mayor Adams on Bribery Charges, Corruption, & Which Borough Has The Baddest Shawtys" is certainly a podcast title.)

Bernie does well on some of these podcasts. I think you can also chalk some of it up to guys being more comfortable giving other men room to talk - but the assumption that these podcasts are all the same and purely toxic to democracy is easily disprovable.

These guys are curious about shit, kinda ditzy and will talk to who is willing to talk to them. If only power hungry fascists, conspiracy theorists, and hucksters are willing to talk to them, fuck.

I disagree with these guys on many things. I do believe I see a genuine interest in learning in them as well.

Some guy podcasts genuinely suck shit turbo ass. I am not disputing that.

If the Democrats can't field a politician that can hold up to these fellas (Why does life suck shit for most people? Why are the drug laws stupid? Eggs expensive. College is unaffordable...?) And their solution is to AstroTurf a party-line-toting Joe Rogan alternative. It seems to be in line with the let's ignore millions of people chanting "burn it down" and "drain the swamp" as popular rallying cries.

There is a lot more wiggle room than many people realize.

I think these people are wrong about many things. I think many people are wrong about many things. I think they can propagate troubling ideas to millions of people very quickly. They could also propagate far less spooky ideas to millions of people. I don't think they are monsters. They - like me - are dumb scared chimps trying to figure shit out. I hope we can help them figure it out in a far less spooky fascist leaning way.

I worry about men a lot. As with everyone though - assuming they're a pile of shit before making them prove it isn't graceful.

I'm weirdly hopeful currently.

[leviiattacks]

CASHIER LEVI AND LIKE THE READER IS THE CUSTOMER AND IT’S LIKE THEY HAVE A CRUSH ON EACHTOHER

author note :: honestly not my best at all..... like at all..... this was actually pretty good but the entire draft got deleted and i just lost all my effort but i felt bad for starting it and not completing it for anon so you may take whatever i have managed to salvage. i hope u enjoy it :’( i am extremely sick rn and yeah writing is the only break i am currently getting from anything :-) SO AGAIN I’ M SORRY ANON..... i may write a 10k + word fic on this though so i can redeem myself bc this is just disappointing 😭

word count :: 3.3k

every single thursday you stop by ackermart. maybe it’s because the day is convenient for you or perhaps it’s because of a certain cashier that works the evenings...

HAHA it’s got nothing to do with a cashier why would it have anything to do with a cashier? :-)

today is like any other. you walk through the fresh produce aisle then proceed to make your way towards the bakery section picking up a loaf of bread

it’s stupid, you know it is but... you think you’ve worked up enough courage to speak to him today!!

and who is him you may ask?

levi at till number four. his tired eyes always happen to pierce into yours and his calloused thumbs brush past your skin when you hand him your rewards card

levi is what his bright red name tag says and although he doesn’t look like a levi you’d like to think your crush isn’t stealing someone’s identity so you believe that it’s his real name

anxiously fiddling with your basket you’re beginning to think this was a horrible idea

the girl ahead of you is flirting up a storm with him and although he’s not reciprocating it by any means you still feel deterred

levi bags the last of her groceries and looks up at her when she asks for a way to contact him. he doesn’t look mad... just bored?

“ma’am. this is an ackermart i don’t think it’s appropriate you ask me for my number. the customer service line is listed on our website.”

the woman raises a brow looking completely flabbergasted. okay, if everything before this wasn’t a warning THIS sure was

she stomps off when she realises levi isn’t kidding and you think you’d feel bad for her maybe if she was more respectful about it

“next customer.” levi calls over his shoulder and you shuffle forward pretending to be engrossed in your phone

“cash or card?” he asks plainly.

you hear the BEEP of your groceries being scanned and think on it for a while before replying with “cash”

you’re clearly pretty good at your pretend to be totally into your phone act because levi tries to get your attention but you don’t hear what he has to say till the third time he repeats himself

but even then you’re still unsure what it is he’s said????

looking down you see his hand is stuck out in front of you and now you’re even more confused

faltering for a second you look at his palm and then speak

“um, i guess your hand is nice? it’s pretty big compared to the rest of you actually.”

“i was asking for your cash?” he says and now you look at his palms in mortification

gasping you yANK your hand into your purse as you laugh awkwardly fishing around to find your money

“oh, OH i knew that. just kidding!! i mean- i meant that thing about your hand?? but i thought it was- i funny? yes the joke funny? i’m-”

he leans back into his spinning chair and sighs contently. “you’re not making much sense peaches.”

“pe- peaches??” you repeat. no way you’ve heard that correct

levi lazily points at the abundance of the aforementioned fruit in your grocery bags

“you must love em.”

“i, well yeah i do like peaches but i also like...” um??? what food would make you look sophisticated and professional?

OH YEAH

“FRENCH CUISINE :-)!!!!” you say rather proudly

“...cool. i guess.” levi hands you your grocery bag which is basically an invitation asking for you to get out

he doesn’t seem mad but he’s definitely going to look back at this encounter and laugh his ass off at how stupid you are

hanging your head down low in embarrassment you make your way out towards your car

there’s always next time!! maybe you can practice in the mirror yeah that does sound like it would help!!!

okay so.

it is officially next time.

actually you never got the opportunity to practice in front of the mirror because you chickened out of looking like an idiot even if it was in the privacy of your own home

but!!! you did try to practice some cool pick up lines because who doesn’t like a good pickup line or two??

the two mini milk cartons in your hand and the pack of doughnuts you have tucked under your arm aren’t too heavy so you aren’t too worried about having to wait in the line

for some reason the guy in front of you keeps turning around and glancing at you as if you don’t even exist

you are not casper the ghost

also casper is a little boy and you definitely aren’t a little boy

finally after a good five minutes the man ahead of you is having his stuff scanned but he’s STILL doing it. even levi notices and gives him an odd look which borders annoyance and anger.

“can i pay for your groceries? maybe walk you to your car?” the stranger asks suddenly

so that’s what this is, he’s simply taken an interest in you

my god this is new but it is uncomfortable and you’d rather say no

“oh, i actually walked here and no thanks i can pay for my own. enjoy the rest of your day!!” you hope your white lie is enough to fool the man but instead of agreeing as any other person would he looks majorly deceived

“i saw you in the parking lot.” ok this is getting a bit too uncomfortable for your liking

“c’mon i’m offering to buy your shit too?”

his voice is raising and you’re not sure what exactly you can do but thankfully for you the manager steps in and takes him away before any more threats can be made

the man had taken up so much of your attention you almost forgot levi was even there until you turned back around

“do you want a member of staff to accompany you to your car? it’s getting dark out.” levi’s comment helps ease your nerves and you try to laugh off what just happened

“i’m good :-)” you say shaking a little. you’re unsure if it’s the cold or the fact you still haven’t completely calmed down

“you sure peaches?”

“i haven’t bought any peaches this time.”

“you’re still peaches to me.” your cheeks flush at his confidence

wait, maybe this is your chance. you’re the last person in his line and they’re closing up for the day so...

“could you walk me to my car?”

and to your surprise even before you can take back what you’ve said levi agrees

it stays like that for a while.

every thursday levi walks you to your car by the end of his shift, all the while the two of you exchange a few words together

like last week you asked him what his favourite colour was (he said purple) you’ve learnt about his hobbies (he’s a decent cook), you’ve even found out about some of his own personal problems. he had mentioned suffering with insomnia in passing.

to be honest each and every time he walks you to your car he has to notice that you begin to park further and further away from the front entrance. but if he does notice he doesn’t say a word about it

“is that all you’re checking out?” you ask with a cheeky grin plastered across your face

looking down at your new dress your lopsided grin is far from fading away any time soon. you especially picked this one out after asking levi what his favourite colour was last week

god. this is so embarrassing but never actually have you had a crush this huge

levi who’s sat behind the counter shoots you a look which almost seems to be on the verge of uninterested. he isn’t entertaining this at all or this is just his typical bored face, you can’t really tell

BUT..... you still have a huge crush on him and you aren’t one to give up this easily

for the record you don’t harass him or anything, just the occasional hint is thrown around but he’s either really dense or doesn’t care

his expression does you no favours, you can’t tell what he’s thinking half the time

“you’re always buying energy drinks... might want to cut down on those they’re no good for you.”

warmth blooms in your chest. he’s just saying it to make small talk but the fact he even thinks to bring that up has your heart fluttering

“i- well- yeah i will!! just have a few overdue essays to get over with :-)” twiddling your thumbs together you think that makes your nerves too obvious so you begin to scratch at the back of your neck

if anything is a dead give away it’s your constant neck scratching, thankfully levi hasn’t picked up on it

“so you wore purple today?” his eyes linger on the thin straps of your dress and you feel the goosebumps rise up onto your skin immediately

“oh yeahhhh-”

“did i tell you yellow was my favourite colour last week?” he asks holding up a neon yellow pack of crisps and for the first time you see him smile

he looks so ?!|>\€|^ pretty ?!/)/&

wait?? yellow??

“didn’t you say purple?”

“no?” he crosses his arms playfully over his chest thinking for a bit

“maybe i did but no it’s really yellow.” he says as he hands you your bag

nodding your head you smile “yeahhhh sure it is.”

damn, now you’re going to have to find a yellow dress just to make him revert back to purple because who even likes yellow?? that’s a deal breaker right there??

update

it’s been two weeks!!

and a yellow dress has been found and secured B-)

it’s been a pretty rough day at work and you need to desperately collect a pack of green tea and get going

you don’t know when exactly being a secretary meant you had to babysit your boss’ children but that’s what the last week has entailed

being made to work overtime to this extent has had an effect on you and you’re ready to head home as soon as you swing by ackermart

not seeing levi for a week made you a little :-( because to be honest he’s the highlight of your thursday evening BUT!! you’ll be able to see him today at least

walking in through the entrance you’re met with connie smiling right at you, he holds the door open for you and smile back greeting him

“so you didn’t come last week...?”

it’s weird for him to ask that, after all you don’t really speak to anyone here apart from levi, you’re surprised you’re enough of a regular to be known by name

“oh i didn’t think anyone would notice? but yeah i had to work overtime you know what boss’ are like.” groaning you crouch down and look at the pot noodles on display

“i didn’t notice it. boss man did.”

“boss man?” you ask feeling out of loop

“levi.” connie answers as he hops into the backroom

????

isn’t he just a cashier??

“you still look confused.” connie remarks as he heads back out with a cardboard box full of pringle’s tubes

“levi’s the boss man, this is his store. he literally only ever mans the cash register on thursday evening because of you.”

at that you start laughing because it makes no sense at all to you

there’s no way connie is being serious

“good one.” you say as you stand up with a chicken flavored noodle in your hand

“i’m not kidding?”

turning around you give him a skeptical look

he sighs and shakes his head.

“listen. me and the part timers are tired of making bets on when he’ll give you his number and i bet that it would happen today so if you could confess to each other that would be perfect!!!”

“who said i like-”

“anyone with a brain can tell you both like each other.” he’s rolled his eyes so far into the back of his head you begin to take him a little more seriously now

“i... did i make it that obvious??” you’re directly facing him trying to get out as much information as you can

“yeah. very. at least levi wasn’t as bold.”

“i think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick he definitely doesn’t like me.”

connie gives you an “are you fucking with me?” look and you look away trying to distract yourself with the the canned goods lining the shelves

“he was worried sick when you didn’t come in for the entire week. he even asked me if he scared you away.”

“maybe i’m just his favourite customer?”

“favourite customer my ass he has a crush on YOU. confess.”

playing around with the ends of your sleeves connie sees he’s fighting a losing battle unless he gives you definitive solid proof

“please... i’ll get free barbecue if i win the bet and i’m kinda broke rn :-(” okay, you do want connie to eat well and be treated and maybe this is a good thing. if levi doesn’t like you then you can move on!!

“i’ll think about it.”

before connie can continue talking you make a beeline towards the tea aisle whilst throwing a “see you next time!” over your shoulder.

by the time you’ve gathered all of your groceries your basket is full to the brim. you’ve been lingering as much as you can out of fear but you think you’ve collected just enough courage to ask for his number

looking at the cash register levi is sat there and your shoulders slump. he’s probably going to say no and you’re going to look like a huge loser.

right as you’re about to take a step towards him levi finally spots you and gives you one look before standing up from his seat

“hi!” you wave at him

“...hey!” he smiles wide but he bites it back pretending it was never there in the first place

placing your basket in front of him he eyes what you’ve got

“hm... lots of peaches as per usual peaches.” the nickname that rolls of his tongue makes you tremble a little. will he call you that after you fuck everything up with this stupid confession?

his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek when he gets to the heart shaped box of chocolates

“a gift for a friend? didn’t know you had those?” he teases as he scans the barcode

“gift for a crush!” you reply back enthusiastically as you dig through your wallet looking for your card

levi doesn’t respond for a few seconds and an awkward silence fills the air. you glance up to see him looking at you open mouthed in shock

“good luck.” he murmurs under his breath he’s not even returning your gaze at this point and is hurriedly scanning through your barcodes

“you okay?” you ask worrying about his mood

“yeah, yeah. great.” he’s quieter than usual.

the rest of your encounter is the same, levi silently bags your groceries and you can’t tell if this is a good or bad response.

just as he’s about to place the heart shaped box into your plastic bag you lunge forward holding his wrist to stop him

“no i don’t need those.”

he cocks his eyebrow upwards trying to analyse your expression and gain an understanding of your thoughts

“don’t tell me you’re chickening out. whoever it is will say yes.” he scoffs as he places the chocolates into the bag handing them over to you with a warm smile

there it is again. the fear returns and you swipe your tongue over your slightly dry lips.

no way.

is he telling you to confess to someone now? so he must not like you?

taking the bag away from him you scratch your neck out of habit and huff feeling frustrated

“he keeps giving me mixed signals.” you say hoping he catches your drift

“give him the chocolates and let him put two and two together. don’t even say anything.” his advice would be great if he weren’t the guy you were trying to confess to in real time

nodding you reach into the bag and bring the box back out before gently placing it in front of levi

“are you serious?” he asks and your face drops seeing the possible displeasure in his eyes

great, connie and the part timers just over analysed he doesn’t like you, obviously he doesn’t like you, why would he like you?

without looking back you hurry out, the embarrassment is eating you away now and the thought of ever returning to ackermart isn’t even feasible in your mind

at this point you may as well change your name, identity, dye your hair, have a few children and wear sunglasses the next time you come back so you look like a soccer mum and not the foolish y/n who thought they had a chance with their cute CASHIER???

god, you probably look like a creep

the sound of footsteps can be heard behind you and labored breaths follow before levi calls out for you

“please wait up.” he grumbles. slowing down your pace you let him catch up to you. he grabs at your wrist and sighs in relief

turning you see him savour the air

is this the part where he confesses he likes you too or—

“your receipt you forgot it.” he gasps as he opens your hand for you and places it into your palm

oh.

fingers clasping shut onto the paper you feel the humiliation seep into your pores

this.

is.

the.

worst.

moment.

of.

your.

life.

“open it.” he offer you a boyish smile and your nerves don’t let you find comfort in it

you grimace as you fold it open, you’re imagining he’s charged you an extra £100 for having unwanted feelings for him and if that’s the case you’ll die on the spot

but instead your eyes light up in joy. you’re pleasantly surprised

...

inside of the receipt is his phone number haphazardly sprawled across in black biro - you even double check by comparing it to the number for the customer service helpline

hello??

HELLO.?.!/)£ HIS NUMBER???

“if you just wanted to return the chocolate this is embarrassing.” he’s the one who’s now scratching at his neck and you find that he’s endearing this way

the streetlight from above illuminates him, the shadows cast over his face and his brows aren’t furrowed as they usually are

you open your mouth to reply but connie cuts you off unintentionally. he can be heard YELLING into his phone ecstatic that his plan has worked out

“I WIN!!! HA BBQ’S ON YOU JEAN!! MUST SUCK TO BE YOU.”

you and levi look at each other and laugh, reassuring the other of what has just happened.

well...

you guess this is the start of something new? maybe??

:-)

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[nobodyfamousposts]

My-Crack-ulous: Aku-Maid

In which I am a horrible person...

No seriously. Don’t read this.

For @mermain123, for bringing up the cursed image that started this mess in the first place.

Mermain: i said i was suffering

Mermain: i didn't want you to make the internet suffer

Me: That sounds like the internet’s problem.

Also for @bloody-writes. You know why...   ; )

_________________________

Hawk Moth was a supervillain who had been terrorizing Paris for the better part of two years.

But no one could really argue that not all of his ideas have been good. Or well thought out. Or in any way sensible even.

Like the time he akumatized a baby.

Or the time he akumatized a girl to transform people into exact replicas of herself.

Or the fact he keeps akumatizing Mr. Ramier for going on 29 times at this point…

Or the other time he akumatized a baby…

Times that he destroyed Paris. Times that he nearly destroyed the world. Times that he gave people powers that were completely contradictory to the goals of getting the Miraculous he was after by erasing the heroes from existence or transforming them in ways that made the Miraculous inaccessible.

But none of his akumatizations had ever gotten him as much hate, caused as much misery, were were ultimately as pointless as this most recent incident.

Aku-maid.

It was known the instant she was akumatized. As soon as she was transformed, a wave of power enveloped the city. And within that wave, half of the people of Paris were transformed as well. 

…the male half.

Her power was to transform all the men of Paris. She didn’t even have a weapon or attack that did it, it just happened almost instantaneously. All men suddenly found themselves changed.

Or rather, their outfits…

“Ah!”

“What the hell—!?”

“I can’t get it off!”

One by one, every male in Paris suddenly found themselves in a much different state of attire. What had just been a normal day full of various styles and appearances had all suddenly become very…frilly.

“WHY AM I A MAID?!”

Much as implied her namesake, the akuma’s power involved transforming whatever any man was wearing into some variation of a maid outfit.

Every man.

All over Paris.

From Andre Bourgeois, who has refused to leave his office to make an official statement…

“ANDRE!” Audrey shouted, banging on the door. “Get out here this instant!”

“But, honey, I can’t be seen like this!”

To Roger Raincomprix, who has tried to continue his normal duties despite the…change of uniform…

“Stop in the name of the law!” Roger shouted, reaching into his pockets in an automatic reaction to try to get his handcuffs. While the dress he was wearing did still have pockets, the only item they procured was a cleaning rag, which was notably less threatening as the suspect in question stared for a moment before deciding to take off.

“HEY!”

And yes, even to…

“I’m a Macrophage!” Adrien gushed happily as he lifted his lengthy skirt to give a twirl.

…even to Adrien Agreste, who was apparently the only one to find anything pleasant about the current crisis.

Nino stared.

“Dude. Seriously?”

“I’ve always wanted to cosplay!”

Nino, having been long-since exposed to his friend’s deep love for anime in its many forms, at least knew what a Macrophage was. But even so, he couldn’t help but feel there was something odd about the way Adrien took to the long pale dress and cap.

Kim rested a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “Just let the guy enjoy this.”

“At least somebody is.” Nathaniel muttered bitterly as he tried to hide as behind his sketchbook. It was a futile attempt, of course, as he at most only covered his face, leaving the red dress, white apron with pockets, and knee-high boots on full display.

“I don’t understand how he can.” Max complained. He tugged at his own skirt in vain, looking at Adrien’s ankle-length ensemble enviously. The skirt was much shorter than he would have liked—reaching a couple inches above his thigh and almost seemed to be defying gravity to stay that way despite his attempts to get it to either flatten or otherwise lower. “I question the design choices.”

“But you look just like Misaki from Maid Sama! And Nathaniel looks like Lizbeth!” Adrien insisted. “It’s totally a cosplay!”

Max just stared incredulously. He was wearing a black dress with puffy sleeves that tapered off just shy of his elbow, white apron, a cap, and thigh-high black stockings and knee-high boots, it seemed Adrien did have a point.

Max, in all fairness, didn’t particularly care in favor of the problems that came with suddenly finding himself in a short dress, heels, and a corset.

“I just can’t peg where Kim or Nino’s outfits are from.” He continued, studying the outfits in question contemplatively. “But give me a little time! It’ll come to me!”

The boys had been having an afternoon hangout session in the park. No girls. No teachers. No Gabriel Agreste or bodyguards to whisk certain teen models away. It was supposed to be a normal non-drama-filled day.

…which was naturally when it became something less than normal and certainly more than drama-filled.

“I think I get why girls complain about this sort of thing now.” Kim said, looking at his shoes. “These heels are kind of uncomfortable…”

“Are you sure it’s the heels and not the flippers?” Nino asked, annoyed.

Sure enough, Kim was wearing flipper-heels. They were black and also had black ankle straps with a little bow on each. This strange footwear did seem to go with Kim’s talent in swimming, which was also emphasized by the ruffle maid swimsuit they matched with.

“Nah, it’s definitely the heels.” Kim insisted.

So this was what their all-boys’ afternoon had come to.

Kim was wobbling on unsteady heels.

Nathaniel groaned and kept his ever reddening face covered.

Max was questioning where they could procure jackets. Long jackets.

Adrien was giggling to himself and asking if they could do a full Cells at Work group cosplay.

And Nino paled, suddenly realizing something.

"Guys. Guys, we have to hide!"

"Why?" Kim asked. "It's annoying, but this akuma doesn't seem really dangerous."

"No, you don't get it!" Nino hissed. "If Alya catches us, we will NEVER live this down!"

Nathaniel looked over the edge of his sketchbook. “Alya wouldn’t actually post pictures of us to the Ladyblog, would she?”

A long pause followed.

The boys paled.

Except for Adrien, who turned to them with a gasp of excitement. “Do you think she would? We could do a group picture!”

All the other boys paled even more, looking downright ill.

And immediately took off running.

Or at least as well as they could with heels. None of them made it very far without tripping, stumbling, or simply struggling to stay upright as they still tried to move away from the area as quickly as the heels would allow.

“But what’s wrong with—?”

“JUST RUN, ADRIEN!”

“Who thought maid outfits with high heels was a good idea?! How can anyone be expected to clean in these things?

“I will never draw high heels on a super heroine again.”

“I can’t breathe! Who created corsets?! What objective does this achieve besides crushing one’s lungs?”

Nino groaned, still running. “I hope Hawk Moth is suffering as much as we are!”

_____________________

If Nino Lahiffe had the ability to break the fourth wall and peer into the events happening outside of his immediate vicinity, he would be happy to find this was actually the case.

And he would laugh.

Oh, how he would laugh.

“Sir…?”

“Don’t.” Came the dark growl from a very unhappy supervillain. “Don’t say anything, Nathalie..."

This was an akuma that impacted every male in Paris. Every male.

…even to Hawk Moth, himself.

“Why did this happen?”

It would appear that even Hawk Moth was not immune to Aku-Maid’s power as he had been similarly transformed. And unfortunately, due to the change, he could no longer access his Miraculous. The Butterfly broach had disappeared, having been transformed along with his outfit.

And his outfit had…actually left much to be desired.

Which was truthfully just a nice way of saying it was ugly.

Really, really ugly.

Normally the picture of stoicism, Nathalie had to pretend to cough to avoid reacting.

“Can’t you order the akuma to undo it?” She eventually was able to ask.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes in concentration. “No. It’s no good. I’ve lost the link!”

His eyes widened and he clutched his chest in a panic.

“Where is the Miraculous?!” Hawk Moth demanded, trying—and failing to pull at the tasteless dress. But as others across the city had already discovered, the clothes were magic and would not be removed or displaced. Not even the frock or the cap he now wore.

“Sir, you were transformed when you changed. It looks like the Butterfly Miraculous was transformed along with you.”

He froze, eyes widening in horror. “But that’s—”

He grasped at the empty place on his chest. Where once had been his lapel and pin now only had ruffles and a leathery texture. His mask remained in place, though it was now fully black except for the openings around his eyes and mouth, which were bordered with a lighter grey color. The material and outfit overall had a shine to it that could be found on any wetsuit.

To put it nicely: he looked atrocious.

To put it bluntly: he looked like some sort of BDSM role-player with a maid kink.

So it was fortunate, perhaps, that no one else in Paris would have to be subject to the sight.

Except Nathalie. Who was probably going to have nightmares.

Or a coronary from the laughter she was trying to hold back.

It was admittedly a bit hard to tell.

But it seemed she was handling the situation a bit better than Hawk Moth, despite the fact that the man was currently unable to see himself or the full extent of the monstrosity he now wore.

…this was probably for the best. Given the man’s fashion sense, there was really no telling whether he would be horrified or inspired, and nobody would want to find out.

“I can’t contact the akuma! And I can’t call it back!”

He moaned, covering his…already covered face with his hands. “I’ll never be taken seriously again!”

Nathalie resolutely held back from pointing out he was barely being taken seriously now.

“It’s…not that bad?” She tried. Not very well, but she tried.

Hawk Moth clutched his head in horror. “Unless Ladybug and Chat Noir can stop this akuma, we’re doomed!”

“Sir, it’s just an akuma that puts men in maid outfits. It’s really not that bad.”

“DOOOOOOMED!!!”

__________________________

The akuma, for her part, was unaware of her benefactor’s misery, too busy enjoying the abject misery of everyone else around her.

Nobody knew just what had set the girl off to get her akumatized in the first place. Her comments about men being “the eye-candy now” suggested an argument. The maid outfits involved suggested what the topic of the argument had been regarding.

To be honest, nobody had actually realized she was the akuma responsible. She did appear fairly normal by akuma terms, dressed in a seemingly authentic Victorian era dress more befitting as an authentic Lady’s Maid compared the frillier, lacier varieties that the men around her had suddenly found themselves in. What would normally have gotten her a few odds looks was mostly ignored in the face of the sudden change. Few even took notice of her dark purple skin or black hair. Or the fan in her hand.

“THAT’S RIGHT! SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING OBJECTIFIED!”

The yelling…was a bit harder to miss.

It was the first thing that drew the attention of the three girls settled at the cafe.

The second thing was the various cries of horror as several of the men around them suddenly discovered their state of dress transformed into…well…dresses. Of a variety that made the little cafe appear more like a maid cafe than anything.

The third thing was the appearance of a familiar face running down the road, holding up his long white dress to make running easier as he looked for a place to hide.

Marinette stared.

“ADRIEN?!”

Adrien Agreste was running around in a long white and pale cream Victorian-era dress and cap, looking like Cinderella running from the ball. Except a maid.

A quick glance to her companions showed that both Alya and Kagami were similarly staring in befuddlement, so this was neither her imagination or a fever dream.

“Adrien? What’s going on?” Alya asked for everyone.

“It’s an akuma!” He replied, quickly. “She’s putting everybody into cosplay!”

“…cosplay?”

“Yeah!”

“…everybody?”

He paused, glancing around. “Well…all the guys, I think?”

Marinette stared.

“…Just that?” Alya asked, thankfully taking over while Marinette’s brain started to become aware that this WAS Adrien she was talking to. “She’s not doing anything else besides putting guys into…‘cosplays’?”

He blinked in confusion. “I…think so?”

“She isn’t…I don’t know…commanding you or anything?”

“Well, she hasn’t yet. Which, really, isn’t so bad for an akuma if you think about it.” He said with a frown before he noticed the strange look on Kagami’s face. “Kagami, are you okay?”

Kagami made a strangled sound.

“Marinette?”

Marinette pretended to choke on a drink from an empty glass to avoid speaking.

“Can I add to your order?” The waiter came by, seeming unconcerned by the ruckus or the act that he was now wearing a rather cutesy maid outfit the likes of which would be seen in a maid cafe in Japan.

“You don’t seem put off by this.” Alya pointed out, noting his relatively unfazed attitude compared to the panicking of the other men around them…or the gushing from Adrien.

The waiter took it in stride.

“It’s okay.” He replied blankly. “I’m already dead inside.”

“Oh.”

He turned to Kagami. “Do you need anything else, Miss?”

Kagami was still staring at Adrien, blushing furiously.

“I think I have a problem.”

“You mean a kink?”

“A. Problem.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“Story of my life.” The waiter replied as he refilled her glass of water, either unaware or uncaring of the specific nature of her trouble.

Alya gasped in sudden realization. “Wait! If this is happening here then…” She turned to Adrien. “Where were Nino and the boys?” He blinked, curious. “Oh, they decided to head home. Why?”

An almost sinister smirk formed on Alya’s face. One that would have anyone it was directed at cowering in fear. And strong enough to be felt from several blocks away.

Unbeknownst to them, Nino felt that smirk like a trail of cold fingers down his back, and promptly threw himself into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

As if she sensed this, Alya slammed several bills on the table and dashed out the door.

“GOTTA GO!”

Realizing an akuma was about, Marinette was right on her heels. She found a nearby alleyway and immediately prepared to transform and face this latest threat.

“Oh my god. OH MY GOD.” She broke down, letting out the laughter she’d been trying so hard to hold in. “He’s a dork! The boy I’m crushing on is a complete DORK who is in to cosplaying! He thinks maid outfits are COSPLAY!”

…or she would be.

“And here I’ve been driving myself nuts with anxiety over just asking him out and he doesn’t even—”

Any minute now…

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to stop the akuma!”

“Can’t I just take a picture first?”

“MARINETTE!”

“Oh fine…”

_____________________

Luka didn’t realize anything had happened. He felt a bit off balanced for a moment, and a bit colder, but attributed that to being on the Liberty. So he simply shifted his stance to be a bit more steady and continued playing. It wasn’t until the drum stopped that he realized something was actually wrong.

The look of shock from Mylene and the following shriek from Ivan cemented it.

He spun around, not sure what could have elicited such a cry from his fellow bandmate. And at first, he couldn’t really tell what had happened. Ivan was crouched behind the drum set, covering his face with his hands and trembling in what appeared to be mortification.

Then he noticed the mobcap on Ivan’s head, which he was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. And Ivan’s shirt seemed distinctly…fluffier and frillier than he remembered seeing a few minutes ago. He tried to move closer to offer help, only for his own balance to be off. And when he looked down…

Oh.

The dress was new.

As were the stockings.

And the notably thinner and sleeker heels on his boots.

He hummed to himself, considering the change.

“Akuma?” Juleka asked him.

“Most likely.” He replied.

Mylene had rushed up to their practice stage and to Ivan’s side, even as he moaned for her to not look at him. The poor guy was completely red in embarrassment. Seeing how upset he was, the other three had backed away, leaving Mylene to try to help her boyfriend.

“Luka, are you okay?” Rose asked worriedly, trying to respect Ivan’s need for space while also checking in on their other effected bandmate.

“I’m fine. It was just a surprise at first.” He replied.

It wasn’t every day that you suddenly found yourself in a maid outfit, after all. It was a simple outfit. White off the shoulder puffy sleeves with black frills. A black tube skirt. White apron. And…he reached to his neck where a weight was, feeling a choker.

Huh…

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Honestly, he could be in worse.

Rose seemed surprised at that. “Really? Even with those shoes?”

He looked down at the shoes in question. The boots were his style—surprisingly, given it was an akuma. The higher heels were definitely different from his norm, and clearly what Rose was referring to. In any other circumstances, she would be right.

But...

Luka smiled, shifting his stance and resting a hand on his hip. “Well, someone had to teach Jules to walk in heels. And I couldn’t show her if I didn’t know how myself.

Juleka huffed. “Don’t say that like you didn’t enjoy playing dress up.”

Luka merely curtsied, not only showing off more of his slightly ripped and punk-looking fishnet stockings, but almost proudly displaying his ability to move fluently in heels.

Rose appropriately “oo-ed” and “aah-ed” at his display. Juleka merely shook her head and smiled. Ivan was still recovering from his panic attack and had resolutely refused to come out from behind the drums, despite Mylene’s reassurances.

“So it has to be an akuma, right?” Rose asked.

“If it is, I want a picture or two, at least.” Juleka muttered as she admired Luka’s outfit, mumbling about commissioning Marinette to recreate it in her size. She hadn’t known maids could come in this style.

Mylene nodded from her place at Ivan’s side. “Though it seems rather fortunate if this is all the akuma is doing.”

“We don’t know if that is it, though.” Luka warned. “For all we know, there could be some other ability she has if she catches us. It would probably be safer if we hid out inside until this is over.”

The others agreed. And Anarka, bless her soul, actually came up with a large blanket for Ivan to wrap himself in to preserve his dignity. Then she and Mylene helped the taller teen to safely relocate to inside. Much like Luka, Ivan’s shoes had changed, but he was substantially less able to maneuver in them. And no amount of effort or force on his part could seem to separate the heels from his feet.

Once he and the others were inside, Luka moved to follow. He hesitated, however, at the sound of something landing behind him.

“Viperion? We’ll need your help.”

He turned to see Ladybug standing tall. And was that perhaps a hint of blush on her face?

Oh. 

A shame.

It looked like Juleka wouldn’t be getting her pictures, after all...

_____________________

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He shuddered, backing away from the door as far as possible.

“Ninoooooo…”

It was a fight for survival.

“C’mon, Nino. Just open the door.”

The survival of his dignity, but still!

He’d lost track of the others and immediately rushed home and to the safety of his room. His room, which he could lock and hide away in until this all blew over.

“I have a key!” Came Chris’s voice. “Somewhere…”

“Give it and I won’t take any pictures of you.”

“Deal!”

His room, which his traitorous little brother was willing to allow the enemy entry into.

Under any normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be this desperate. But if Alya caught him like this…

Black dress. Puffy at the shoulder, sleeves that extended to his wrists and were bound by white cuffs. A white smock tied back with a white ribbon. White bow at the neck and white frills along the bottom of the dress?

Oh yeah…Alya would never let this go…

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten into all those anime Adrien pushed him into! So what if the maids were cute? And sure, he’d admit he's had a thought or two of Alya in such attire...

But how was he supposed to know Alya had such thoughts as well? And in the complete opposite direction! Clearly this was the akuma’s magic punishing him!

Nino looked to his window.

It would be a long fall, but it was his only escape.

But would the broken legs be worth it when Alya would soon figure out what he did and be able to catch up to him easily?

Maybe he could try to climb up instead…but in these heels? It was suicide!

“Fufufu!”

…screw it. 

He opened up his window, only to meet a new pair of eyes.

Ladybug stared in surprise from her place at his windowsill, a certain box in hand.

“…hi?”

“Oh thank god!” He exclaimed. He took her by her shoulders, half leaning out and half pulling her in. “Alya’s insisting on taking pictures! Please tell me you have my Miraculous with you!”

“Actually, about that—”

“I don’t care! I’ll do anything! Just please—SAVE ME!”

Ladybug looked back behind her to a distant rooftop and the other allies she’d left behind.

The sound of a key jingling could be heard and Nino stared up at her, pleadingly.

Well, she could never resist the eyes…

By the time they’d gotten the door open, the room was empty.

Nino was gone.

_____________________

Six heroes stood assembled.

Ladybug.

Chat Noir.

Carapace.

Viperion.

King Monkey.

Pegasus.

Six heroes.

Five of whom were male.

And…still wearing some semblance of feminine maid-like outfits.

Ladybug wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or worried.

“What the hell?! I thought the Miraculous were supposed to change us into our hero suits?” Nino groused.

Contrary to his hopes and expectations, using the Miraculous had not transformed him into his normal Carapace look, but had rather simply given him a different outfit. The dress itself was green and had a turtle shell pattern, while the apron and waist belts were a brown color. The bowknot around his neck was a dark green and a brown to match the apron. He wore stockings. And to his very limited relief, his shoes were flats instead of heels.

“Well, at least this skirt is longer.” Pegasus said, now wearing a dark brown blouse and bicycle skirt. The skirt went to just above his ankles, for which he was grateful. But this seemed to be countered by the increase of height to his heels.

Plus no corset. The outfit was still fit tightly and not very comfortable, but at least he could breathe now.

“Though I believe we’re getting away from maid-wear now.” Chat said, conversationally.

Pegasus gave him a flat look. “I’m not complaining.”

If Chat had witnessed his earlier ensemble, surely he would understand.

King Monkey, for his part, seemed somewhat appeased with his Miraculous suit. It was a notably more Eastern style of dress, appearing more like robes worn by palace servants. He wore a light brown waistcoat with wide sleeves over a blouse and a wrap-around skirt. It looked heavy, but Kim seemed to have no trouble with it. Maybe it was made of a lighter material…?

And Viperion’s dress was different in style as well. Whereas his maid outfit as Luka had been more punk, this was more sleek. Wearing a green sleeveless dress and white smock, as well as what appeared to be a green corset. The dress had a slit at the sides, giving more maneuverability for his legs…as well as more show, given the appearance of a garter belt and stockings. His shoes were high heeled but including a beautiful snake design that wrapped around his ankles. To finish it off, rather than remain bare, his arms were covered in what appeared to be loose green sleeves that started at his elbows and extended to his wrists.

…maybe a picture or two wouldn’t hurt? Or three? Because the amount of details on these outfits were amazing and she was just brimming with ideas now…

Ladybug broke out of her musings when someone tugged on her shoulder to get her attention.

It was Chat. Chat who, much like the other heroes, as dressed in a fantastical outfit. Though a maid outfit, it was definitely more cat-themed with a giant paw-like gloves covering his hands, a paw print on his apron, and bow and bell on his tail which rang as he shifted.

What material was that made of, anyway? She kind of wanted to give it a feel and see if she could find something to compare it to. Maybe a quick sketch?

Oh. Right.

Akuma.

Maybe if she was lucky, they could finish this quickly so she could rush back home and take notes while she still had the ideas bouncing in her brain.

…maybe someone would have gotten pictures by then…?

“Ladybug?” Chat whispered, snapping her back to reality.

“Yes?”

Chat frowned in concern. “Is the Guardian okay with this?”

Ladybug froze.

“PSST! Ladybug!” Came a voice from a nearby rooftop, drawing her attention.

“Master Fu?”

“Ladybug! Here’s the Miracle Box. Take as many allies as you can and resolve this as soon as possible!”

“Master? Are…you hiding in a box?”

“No questions! Just go!”

“…he’s fine.”

Chat seemed uncertain, but decided not to pry.

“Let’s just split up and find the akuma.” Ladybug said. “But don’t engage until we’re all together!”

With that, the six split into three groups, with Chat and Carapace going one way and King Monkey and Pegasus going another, leaving Ladybug and Viperion searching together with the former trying not to get caught stealing peeks at the latter.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with a smile.

…trying. The key word was trying not to get caught.

“No! Nothing!” She replied quickly. “I’m just…surprised that you can still move so quickly in those heels.”

“I’ve had practice.” He explained, still smiling. He even lifted one leg behind him, managing to stand perfectly balanced even on one leg in heels.

“I…see.”

Part of her wanted very much to laugh. It was the same part that had found this entire day ridiculous. The other part of her was her inner artist at work and really wanted to make a few sketches inspired from the presented outfits. Like Viperion’s sleeves…and those shoes with a snake coil wrapping around the ankle…

“Ladybug!”

Gaah! Focus!

She turned towards the shout to find King Monkey and Pegasus stumbling towards her.

Her fingers twitched. She ignored it.

“We found the akuma.” King Monkey reported. “She doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Just…kind or roaming around.”

“And laughing.” Pegasus added bitterly. “She appears to be doing a lot of that.”

“How’s THAT for ‘doll them up’?” Came a shout from street level. “HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, HUH?!”

As if on cue…

Ladybug and the others peeked over the edge of the roof.

“Has she displayed any other powers?” She asked.

“No.” Pegasus replied. “From what we could see, her power has already been activated to…obvious effect.” He hesitated, resolutely avoiding mentioning his new outfit or the indignity he’d already suffered. “She has only been laughing. And tripping the occasional person while searching for someone in particular—possibly the one responsible for her ire.”

Ladybug nodded. “At least she’s distracted and doesn’t know we’re here. We just need a plan of attack before we try to fight her.”

“No problem!” King Monkey said with a grin as he reached for his weapon. “We can just do a head on attack with our weapons and—”

They stared.

In place of his staff was a broom. A normal cleaning broom.

They sent cautious glances to each other before they checked their own inventory.

Said inventory consisted of a broom, a bucket, and a feather duster.

“I believe that constitutes as a problem.” Pegasus stated worriedly.

“That’s no fair!” King Monkey exclaimed. “Adrien was able to summon a machete!”

Ladybug blanched at that. “A what?!”

Pegasus pushed up his glasses. “I believe it’s a component of his…‘cosplay’?”

“Pfft!” Ladybug covered her mouth with her hand.

“Ladybug?”

“I-it’s nothing!” She replied hurriedly.

Viperion raised his eyebrow at her but didn’t comment.

King Monkey at least seemed to take it in stride.

“Now we just need a plan for attack!”

“With what?!” Pegasus questioned, waving the feather duster in frustration. “Our weapons don’t work!”

“More like our weapons aren’t actually weapons.” Viperion said, considering his bucket.

“I could smack her.” King Monkey offered, holding up his broom. “Maybe your feather duster has dust on it and could make her sneeze?”

Pegasus gave him a flat look.

“I think the broom is the best weapon we have right now.”

“Don’t knock a bucket!” King Monkey commanded, resolutely. “I got one stick on my head one time and it took hours to get it off! Buckets are evil, man!”

Pegasus sighed and rubbed his head. “It concerns me that you’re the second person I know whom that has happened to.”

Ladybug coughed, discretely trying to draw attention off that particular subject lest identities be at risk. “Anyway, I think I have a plan...”

______________________

To be honest, it wasn’t that difficult of an akuma. Especially not with six of them teaming up against it.

Akumaid truly see to have no ability other than the initial one of transforming what any male in Paris was wearing into something embarrassing...unless you were Adrien, apparently. Aside from that, she showed no other power—neither over the clothes themselves or the people wearing them. Well, she wasn’t controlling any of the victims or shrinking the clothing to choke them at any rate...which if you think about it, was rather lame for an akuma in the power department.

The only real disadvantage in battle came in the difficulty the boys had moving freely in their current outfits. And the afore noted lack of proper weaponry.

Their advantage of surprising was ruined by Chat’s bell ringing before they could ambush her, and both Carapace and Pegasus losing balance with their heels and falling over. King Monkey’s outfit, while longer, also meant more fabric to flap about and resist his movements regardless of how light it may have been, so he wasn’t able to get a hit in fast enough before the akuma turned on him and knocked him away.

Chat was able to get a hit in though.

With his…Kitty Wand…

“THIS IS MAGICAL PUNISHMENT!” He shouted as he smacked the akuma over the head.

“Chat. Chat no. Chat why?”

And Ladybug had hopelessly lost her composure by this point and was laughing. Just laughing. Laughing so hard she was crying actual tears as she smacked her own thigh in her struggle to breathe. Viperion was trying to help her stay standing, keeping an arm around her to support her as she half leaned and half chuckled tears into his chest.

“What’s going on? Does the akuma have some power over Ladybug, too?” King Monkey asked.

…

Viperion sighed.

“Sure. Something to that effect.”

Ladybug wheezed.

“LADYBUG!”

“Lu-haha-lucky haha-charm!”

It said something when her own Lucky Charm magicked up a paper bag. With Ladybug still victim to her fit of giggles, Viperion simply put the bag over her face and had her try to breathe.

“A paper bag doesn’t help with out of control laughing.” Pegasus noted as he forced himself to his feet.

“Do you want to try to figure out the Lucky Charm?” Viperion bit out in annoyance, Ladybug still shaking in his arms.

Pegasus coughed and backed away. “No, thank you.”

Ladybug let out another giggle.

“All right, enough! I’ll stop her!” Carapace shouted, reaching for his back. “With my…serving plate.”

His shield.

His precious shield was gone.

“…Carapace?” Ladybug asked.

The newly rendered Turtle Maid sighed and simply threw the plate as he had his shield, not expecting much.

…the plate slice flew through the air at a surprising speed, but missed the akuma entirely. Instead, it sailed past her, hitting a light post.

Ladybug had expected it to bounce, but instead there was a sound of shredding metal as the serving plate actually tore through the lamp post and into the concrete itself.

The lamp post, now detached, tilted and fell over—conveniently on top of the akuma before she had the time to realize what was happening and move out of the way.

SLAM!

It fell on top of her and she hit the ground.

“Huzzah?” Kim asked.

“Well…that’s one way to defeat an akuma.” Pegasus marveled.

“Great. Now can we fix this already?” Carapace asked impatiently. If they took too much longer, someone was bound to catch them.

That someone would probably be Alya.

And that was the last thing he wanted at this point.

“But I kind of wanted to make a sketch at least…” Ladybug muttered to herself, holding the paper bag Charm to her chest.

“LADYBUG!”

She waved her hands insistently. “I’m on it!”

But she could dream…

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

It was with some disappointment that the Miraculous Cure wiped away the outfits of the other heroes, returning them to their original costumes.

“OH THANK GOD!”

“That was…horrible…”

“Corsets were invented as a torture method, I swear…”

“Shieldy!” Carapace exclaimed, hugging the shield in relief. “Never leave me again!”

“You okay now, Ladybug?” Chat asked her in worry.

“I’m fine.” She said, even though she wasn’t really. She felt like she’d missed a chance, even if it was for the greater good. But it would have been an abuse of her power to be taking pictures of the guys in that state and she already felt bad enough for breaking down laughing in the middle of the fight.

In that moment, however, the loveliness of ladybugs that made up the Cure returned from their task of restoring Paris to flow over Ladybug herself before vanishing, leaving her holding an envelope in their wake. Curious, she opened the envelope…

She gasped.

Inside were a multitude of photos of the other heroes. From different angles. In different positions. All of them in their new outfits.

Ladybug bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding and drawing attention to herself.

…Thank you, Tikki.

Best. Kwami. Ever. “Ladybug…” Carapace said in growing wariness. “What is that?”

“Nothing!”

“Ladybug. That better not be what I think it is…”

She shoved the photos back in the envelope.

“It’s nothing at all!”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Noticing the stand off, the others approached as well.

“It was just something I was missing, yeah.”

“Then let us see it.”

“Can’t.” She replied, clutching the envelope to her chest. “It’s…Ladybug stuff.”

“Hand it over. Right now!”

"NOOO! THESE ARE FOR THE FUTURE OF FASHIOOOON!”

“GIVE US THE PHOTOS!”

“Wait—did she get any of all of us in a group cosplay pic?”

“NOT NOW, CHAT!”

Unfortunately, that small distraction was all she needed to get away.

Viperion, the only one having been pretty nonchalant this whole time, simply watched her leave and the others shout after her.

“…isn’t she going to take our Miraculous back?”

_________________________

Angela sighed, already dreading what was to come.

It was a humiliating end to an already humiliating week as the former akuma victim had been forced to return to her job to go over the updates for the new Ladybug game with the rest of her team.

Said updates were apparently to include maid outfits for the female heroes thanks to one particular coworker who had decided to work on maid outfits for the female heroes instead of the level he was assigned. It had been part of the reason she had been angry enough to be akumatized.

The fact that he was insistent on shoving his maid fetish into the game for no good reason other than having them be eye candy was the other part.

The images in question that he insisted on bringing featured the three female super heroes of the city: Ladybug, Rena Rouge, and Queen Bee.

But not as anyone had ever seen them.

Instead of their usual hero suits, the three girls were portrayed in sultry, even provocative poses. And most notably, all three were wearing some mockery of a French Maid outfit…as what would be believed by Americans, no less.

They might as well have been the initial sketches of pinup posters.

“You can’t still be serious!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got akumatized just because I was jealous that someone else had a good idea.” He said bitingly and giving her a pointed look, perhaps still a bit bitter of the aforementioned experience that her akumatization had caused.

“It’s not a good idea, John.” Angela countered. “There was no reason to have the girls be running in maid outfits.”

He shrugged. “We could just say an akuma did it. After all, we did just get an akuma who did exactly that.” He said, giving her another look.

She clenched her fists and was about to retort when their team lead entered the room.

The meeting commenced and she’d been forced to bite her tongue. Each of the team members went over their progress and updates for their contribution to the game. Level design. Enemies. Testing.

And then came his grand achievement. Instead of the level he was assigned, he gave scantily clad designs for three of the eight known heroes.

What effort.

“I was thinking we really need to include something to make our game stand out, so I made some extra skins for the heroes.” He bragged, sending her a smug look. “The appeal would sell plenty of copies.”

“Or the controversy.” Angela muttered back before turning to the team lead and hoping that the man leading their group had more empathy…or sense.

The team lead looked over the designs with an analyzing gaze. Tiffeny, despite the initial impression his name would give, was a rather buff man who took no shit. But was also a guy. Who liked guy things. But did those things include young women in maid costumes?

After a moment, Tiffeny dropped the pictures on the table and looked at John incredulously. “You know, if you were going to base skins off recent events, you could at least have been authentic.”

John stared. “What?”

“It was the guys who were affected by Akumaid. Not the girls. If we’re going to do maids, we need to keep it true to life, just like the rest of the designs we’ve included. We talked about this when we started this project.”

“But it’s what the audience wants!” John argued.

“Do you know who comprises the majority of our audience?” Tiffeny asked. “Girls. Girls, gay guys, and those who are exploring their interests. Guys in the outfits would sell leagues more than the girls.” He started ticking his fingers “It’s different. It’s original. And it’s based in actual events. People would love it.”

“But…they’ll love this!”

“Man, if people wanted to see sexy girls in skimpy clothing, they’d play literally any other game! Or watch porn.” Tiffeny explained. “But what game do you know of has had guys in maid outfits?”

“Well...”

“Exactly. We want to stand out. And we even have recent events as justification. So if you’re going to be wasting time you should be spending on level-making to put people in maid skins, then get those male heroes some maid costumes.”

“But that’s not fair!” John exclaimed.

Tiffeny paused at that. “Hmm…you’re right.”

With that, he turned to her. “You’re good at designing. Make some butler outfits for the girls. Something dashing to serve as a counter for the guys.”

Angela blinked in surprise for a moment before smiling.

“Sure thing!”

“You know…” one of the other workers noted. “While we’re on the subject, I WAS thinking of some medieval armor designs for the girls and princess dresses for the guys.”

“Hey yeah! Like a light green for Viperion!”

“Maybe teal might be better?”

“Ooo! How about…”

Soon enough, everyone seemed to be invested in the new plan.

Everyone that is, except John.

“Lovely!” Tiffeny said cheerfully. “Plan it out and bring the concepts to me later.”

With a new task in hand and John’s pouting to forever be a memory to hold onto, it seemed her day was looking up…

_________________________

“That was some akuma battle.” Marinette said as she slid into her seat next to Alya.

The reporter, however, only looked annoyed. “Ladybug had apparently called all the male heroes and I completely missed it!” She groaned and leaned back in her seat, bemoaning the lost opportunity.

If she’d hadn’t been so focused on tracking Nino for the purpose of collecting blackmail ensuring his safety, she would have been able to catch all of the male heroes in their maid outfits.

Marinette smiled. “You know…I may have a connection…”

Alya gasped.

“No.”

Marinette giggled and slid over her phone with a picture showing.

“NO WAY!” She cried out before staring up at Marinette in shock. “Girl, you have to send me these!”

“Wait—you have what now?” Nino had arrived, initially hopeful that he had avoided the worst of that day only to have those hopes immediately dashed upon arriving to see the two girls sharing what could only have been one thing…

“I have pictures of the heroes in their new outfits.” Marinette replied cheerfully as she swiped through her phone. “Oh look, Nino! You’re in here, too!”

“WHAT?! NO!” He shouted, rushing forward.

Marinette quickly grabbed back her phone and hid it in her pocket with an overly sweet and not at all innocent grin.

“Mari, come on, no! Don’t do this to me!” He begged.

“Don’t do this to ME!” Alya cut in. “You can’t just show me that and take it away! That’s just not fair!”

“Don’t worry.” Marinette assured them. “It’s going where all my blackmail material goes.”

“Wait what?”

“Since when do you have blackmail material?”

“Since somebody started a game of ‘let’s take pictures of Marinette while she’s asleep and post them online’.” Marinette replied dryly.

Nino groaned. “Come on! I said I was sorry!”

“And now I can be just as sorry.” She replied blithely.

Which was to say: not sorry at all.

“Come on! Alya made me do it!”

“It was just in fun! Marinette! Please!”

“Do you want me to beg? Cry? I’ll cry.”

“I’ll pay you! Pretty please! At least the heroes if nothing else!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

“My blog NEEDS this!”

Marinette smiled at the minor chaos she had caused as the normally happy couple bickered with each other.

Sweet sweet music.

“Hey, Marinette!”

And speaking of sweet…

She turned to look up at a certain blond-haired model as he arrived at his own desk. Though he seemed to be a bit distracted by the arguing couple.

“Hey, Adrien!” She greeted, for once with no stutter to speak of.

“Hey, um…are they okay?” He asked, gesturing to the two.

“Oh, they’re fine.” She said, waving them off. “Just…a bit excited over the recent akuma.”

At that, Adrien brightened. “Wasn’t it awesome?”

She nodded, trying to keep her laughter inside.

“You…ah…enjoyed yourself then?”

Adrien shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Well, it’s not often I get to dress up in a way that’s ‘silly’. Or in anything that isn’t promoting Father’s brand. And I’ve never gotten to cosplay. So it was…really fun.”

Oh. Ouch. Okay, that one kind of hurt. The poor Sunshine Child…

“You know…” Marinette said, leaning over her desk and smiling at him. “I’ve seen a bit of that one anime you mentioned.”

“Cells at Work?” He asked, brightening up.

She nodded. “Mmhmm. I could make you a jacket based off the lead Red Blood Cell. And if you like, I can keep it so you can wear it whenever we hang out.”

He gasped. “Really?”

“Sure! Maybe you can come over sometime so we can try a fitting. We could even play Mecha Strike.”

Adrien beamed. “That sounds great! Thanks, Marinette!”

She waved him off and went back to full sitting in her seat.

Alya and Nino both became distracted from their arguing by the miracle they had just witnessed.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had just spoken to Adrien Agreste…and not a stutter to be heard!

“What the heck, girl?” Alya whispered, sliding into her seat beside her friend. “Since when could you do THAT and why haven’t you done it sooner? I could swear I saw hearts in his eyes!”

Marinette shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “After seeing Adrien Agreste in a maid dress, I kind of wondered why I was so scared of talking to him to begin with.”

Alya laughed. “Well, at least something good came out of this, then.”

“You know...more good WOULD come out of this if I had pics of those heroes..." 

“Really, Alya?”

“You’re pretty much the only one who managed to get any shots of the male heroes!” Alya exclaimed. “Seriously, how?!”

Marinette giggled.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

________________________

OMAKE 1:

Knock! Knock!

“Felix?” His mother called on the other side of the locked and barricaded door. “Will you be coming out?”

“That depends. Do you have a camera?”

A pause. Which was all the answer he needed.

“Then no.”

OMAKE 2:

Fortunately, in the midst of their searching, the team had managed to find the akuma and her primary target, getting between the two.

“So what happened?” Ladybug asked him.

John gripped his skirt, nervously. “She’s my coworker in developing a new video game and she didn’t like my input.”

“What set her off?”

The guy rolled his eyes. “She’s one of those types who wants to take the fun out of video games.”

“What?” Ladybug blinked.

“Okay, so I wanted to put some maid costumes in the game! It was just for fun! Besides, it would have added a bit of pizazz! Something for the players to enjoy!”

“You could just try making a good game.” Pegasus pointed out. “If you have to rely on a cheap gimmick to get buyers, it may not be a good product.”

"I'm sorry, really! I mean, sure, I'm still going to put it in the game, because who wouldn't want hot maids, but still! That doesn't mean I deserve this!"

The akuma raised her fist and shouted at him. “THEY ARE HEROES, DAMMIT! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN MAID SKINS JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE GIRLS!”

Ladybug blanched. “Wait…is the game about me?”

Pegasus coughed and looked away. “There have been…rumors, yes.”

Viperion tilted his head. “That seems like a double standard though…since we’re the ones in maid outfits...”

“Not the point, Viperion!”

Ladybug frowned.

“I don’t think I want to help now.”

“Ladybug!”

[timelesslords]

prompts: could you write an in canon verse (so like gods and stuff are real) fic with amnesia? it could be post TLO or it could be one of them coming out of anesthesia and feeling wonky. i just love a good memory loss fic.

@halfbloodcarrie was instrumental in making this happen!!! Her adorable fluffy idea was completely paid dust in favor of making this angsty as hell but I blame her for me getting it done at all <3

read on AO3

Everything was dark. And everything hurt. His head especially was throbbing, but he couldn’t make out any other feeling. He could hear something; vague at first, just a ringing. But if he struggled, and he did, he could start to make out faint voices. His eyes refused to open, they wouldn’t even blink, but the noises were getting clearer by the second.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” a worried voice asked. Something about it felt familiar, but he couldn’t even pry his eyes open, much less figure out who it belonged to.

“He’ll wake up,” a second voice said, male this time. He sounded confident, assured. At least he thought so.

“There was so much blood, I thought… gods.”

The first voice again, though this time it wavered. It sounded scared, terrified even.

“He’ll be alright, Annabeth. He’s got a thick skull.”

That made the first voice laugh, watery as it was.

“Don’t I know it.”

Some feeling was starting to return to his limbs, slowly but surely. He tried blinking again, but it felt sluggish, slow. Suddenly he realized he could feel his arms and fingers, and there was a hand in his, gripping it so tightly it was a wonder he hadn’t felt it before.

“Percy?” the female voice asked, hopeful. He groaned. His head was pounding like nothing he’d ever felt before. Actually, he wasn’t sure if that was true, because he couldn’t remember his head pounding before, ever.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember anything at all.

He blinked again, this time managing to pry his eyelids open a fraction of a degree. The light streaming in hurt like a bitch, and he groaned again, closing his eyes.

“Percy,” the first voice said again, more frantically, “Can you hear me?”

She seemed to be talking to him, though he wasn’t quite sure. He couldn’t remember his name, but she’d said Percy twice, so that had to be it, didn’t it?

He tried to say something to the girl, but it came out as a strangled groan of pain.

“Will,” she said, a little desperately.

“He’s maxed out, Annabeth, I’m sorry,” the other voice said.

The girl (Annabeth?) muttered something under her breath in-- was that Greek? And how did he know that? More determined than ever, Percy blinked again, this time managing to crack his eyelids open and keep them that way.

His vision was blurry, but a few more blinks and the vague shapes in front of him started to sharpen into focus.

“Percy?” the girl said again. Percy squinted, trying to focus on her.

The first thing he noticed was that she was-- well, pretty didn’t quite describe it. She was seriously beautiful. Her eyes were a dark grey color, currently wide with concern, her hair framing her face in cascades of golden curls. Her nose was small and button shaped, dotted with freckles.

Even if Percy didn’t currently feel like a small blacksmith’s forge was hammering on the inside of his skull, he was pretty sure he would’ve been rendered pretty speechless.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. You were out for a while,” she said, smiling. She did look relieved, but Percy didn’t miss the genuine worry behind her eyes either, the little waver along her lips trying to maintain an upbeat expression.

“I… what’s going on?” Percy asked. Annabeth bit her lip, looking over her shoulder. Percy glanced upwards, properly seeing the other person in the room for the first time. He was a teenager, with shaggy blonde hair a shade or two lighter than the girl’s. He was wearing a white lab coat over what looked to be an orange t-shirt and jeans, which didn’t exactly instill Percy with a lot of confidence in whatever medical care he was receiving.

Of course, the fact that he had no memory didn’t help matters.

“You sort of got hit in the head,” Annabeth said, wincing as she did.

“Really hard,” the boy added.

Percy reached up tentatively, to the place where it felt like his skull was splitting inside out. Instead of skin he felt something else, some thick sort of fabric.

“Ow,” he said, a little unhelpfully. The girl smiled again-- crap, how was she even more beautiful when she smiled?-- but it still had an edge of sadness to it.

“Yeah. Discus accident,” she said.

“Discus accident?” Percy asked, confused.

“Yeah. Those stone frisbee things, remember?” the other guy said.

“No,” Percy said, pushing himself into a sitting position. It made his head throb, but he couldn’t stand lying down anymore. “I don’t-- I don’t remember anything.”

“You mean-- you mean you don’t remember the accident,” Annabeth said, a little forcefully. Her grey eyes flashed, and Percy didn’t quite recognize the expression, but something in his gut told him it was not good.

“No, I mean I don’t remember anything,” Percy repeated, figuring it was best to get it out of the way sooner or later, “I don’t know where I am or who you are or who I am.”

The girl took one very long look at him. He didn’t know what exactly he had said in particular that had triggered something in her, but the concern fell from her face in an instant. She dropped his hand, something sharp overtaking her expression.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she said. Her voice was a little thick, but Percy couldn’t tell if she was crying, because in the next second she stood and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Inadvertently, Percy felt a twinge of something sad in his chest, though he couldn’t quite place why. He didn’t know Annabeth, but she clearly seemed to know him, and what he’d said had clearly set her off.

All of this was really not improving his headache, which had resumed its throbbing with reckless abandon.

“I didn’t mean to…” Percy trailed off. To what? Upset her? Make her run away? But all he’d done was tell the honest truth-- he couldn’t remember shit. The guy was giving him a look that was bordering on disgust.

“Dude, that’s really not funny,” he said. He sounded pissed, though if Percy wasn’t entirely mistaken, there was a hint of fear behind his bright blue eyes.

“I’m not trying to be funny, I literally don’t know what’s going on,” Percy said, starting to feel a little frantic. Why was everyone here acting like they knew him? And why did he not even know him? He felt nerves and something else tugging in his gut, an insistent, terrifying pull--

Without warning, the glass next to his bed shattered, spraying water and glass everywhere. Percy flinched away from the table, whirling around to look at the boy. His eyes were wide and surprised.

“What the fuck was that?” Percy asked, alarmed.

“That was… you,” the boy said, staring at Percy like he had just grown a second head, “Styx, you’re not making this up, are you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know what’s going on for you to believe me?” Percy said, still staring wide-eyed at the place where the cup had shattered. For his own sanity, he decided to ignore the boy’s declaration that he had caused it.

“Four, apparently,” the boy said, rubbing his forehead like he could feel a headache coming on, “Unless you want to make it five for good measure?”

“I have absolutely no memory,” Percy repeated.

“Great. This is just-- this is awesome,” the boy said, sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I’m having so much fun over here,” Percy said dryly.

“Right, sorry,” the boy said, wincing, “Your name is Percy.”

So Percy had guessed that correctly. Good to know.

“My name is Will,” the boy continued, oblivious to Percy’s thoughts, “The girl was--”

“Annabeth,” Percy finished. Will perked up, hopeful, but Percy shook his head.

“I heard you say her name,” Percy explained. Will deflated.

“Oh, right,” he said. He sounded inordinately disappointed, way more disappointed than he’d been when Percy hadn’t remembered him.

“How exactly did this happen?” Percy asked, doing his best not to rub his forehead again. Will sighed.

“Some newbies were messing around with the discuses on the strawberry fields-- which is stupidly dangerous, by the way, we have an arena for a reason-- but it went a little off course and almost hit Annabeth in the face. You shoved her out of the way but it clipped your forehead pretty good.”

Percy tried to process all that, piece by piece. He didn’t know what a newbie was, and apparently wherever this place was had strawberry fields that he and Annabeth had been in together? But the strangest thing of all was that Percy didn’t feel at all surprised that he’d gotten injured trying to get Annabeth out of the way. That piece felt strangely right to him, even if everything else was messy and confusing.

“So me and Annabeth are friends, then?” he asked. Will gave him a strange look, his face paling slightly.

“You guys… you’re close. Really close.”

Percy nodded. That made sense. He didn’t know why Will was being weird about it, but he believed him regardless.

“She was mad at me,” Percy noted. At this, Will winced.

“Yeah. Memory loss… it's kind of a sore subject for her.”

“Why?” Percy asked. Maybe it was a little invasive, but this was all stuff he was supposed to know anyway, wasn’t it?

Will sighed, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Gods, I’m so not the person to be explaining this to you,” he said, “But a few years ago you sort of… disappeared. And you lost all your memories. Except you remembered her. But it was really, really tough on her, she had no idea if you were gonna know anything or not when she found you.”

Percy blinked, trying to take all that in. He had a feeling that was the hyper-condensed version of what had gone down, but it explained the situation well enough. Annabeth hadn’t considered the fact that he genuinely wouldn’t remember her, so she’d assumed it was a bad joke. Percy wished it was a bad joke, because he would give absolutely anything to remember more about her.

“Got it,” Percy said, trying not to frown, “So how did I get my memories back last time? Can we do that again?”

Will grimaced.

“I think last time you drank gorgon’s blood, but we’re fresh out of that.”

Percy stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. He looked serious, but Percy didn’t want to press it. Clearly last time had been a different sort of deal.

“So what do we do? I can’t go around like this forever.”

“Well, hopefully it's just temporary. Your head injury, plus the mortal pain meds we gave you, plus the nectar--”

“The what?” Percy asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said, a little hurriedly. “The point is, your brain is processing a lot of stuff right now. My best guess is that it overloaded a bit, and the amnesia is a side effect. If that’s the case it should go away on its own eventually.”

“And if it’s not the case?” Percy asked, dreading the answer a little. As predicted, WIll grimaced again.

“It could be from the initial injury. In which case it would be… more permanent.”

Percy’s mouth went a little dry.

“Goodie.”

“It probably isn’t,” Will said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“So what do we do?” Percy asked again.

“You could try going to sleep. It might give your brain a chance to readjust, chill out a little. Or…”

Will trailed off, clearly unwilling to finish his thought.

“Or?” Percy prompted.

“Or we could try to jog your memory with stuff you might remember,” Will finished. Percy didn’t understand why this option seemed to be so unpleasant to Will, since it made the most sense to him. He felt disoriented as hell, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to calm his mind down enough to sleep anytime soon. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d been unconscious for a good long while.

“How long was I asleep just now?” Percy asked.

“A while,” Will admitted.

“So let’s try the other thing.”

Will swallowed heavily, his fingers gripping the sides of his white coat a little too tightly.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said, still not sounding happy about it at all, “I’ll-- ugh. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Percy did not move, mostly because he didn’t think he could get up from his bed if he tried. Being alone gave him the chance to observe the room he was in a little bit. It was small but clean, sort of a cross between a normal bedroom and a hospital unit. The walls were made of old looking hardwood, and if he craned his head back a little bit he could almost see out the window. It looked green out there, but it was kind of hard to tell.

Nothing about this place felt familiar, but that didn’t mean much, given nothing Percy had experienced since waking up felt familiar.

Nothing except for those few flashes of feeling he’d gotten about Annabeth, anyway.

Will was gone for a long time, a lot longer than Percy had been expecting. He couldn’t tell time very well and he didn’t see a clock anywhere, but it felt like Will had to have been gone at least half an hour, maybe more. Just when Percy was about to give up and try taking a nap, the door opened again. Will was there, but this time Annabeth was in tow too.

Percy tried not to read too hard into the fact that she didn’t look happy to be there. If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, though now they were narrowed in barely constrained anger, her arms folded over her chest.

Will, for his part, looked extremely nervous. That didn’t give Percy a lot of hope about how this was going to go.

“It would probably work better if you could get up and walk around, but well…” he trailed off, but Percy knew exactly why that wasn’t possible. Just keeping his eyes open had been a struggle, and he was pretty sure if he tried to stand right now he was gonna black out.

“Yeah, sounds like a bad idea,” he agreed. Annabeth said nothing, just kept staring with her jaw clenched tight.

“I figured-- you know, you remembered Annabeth last time,” Will said, still sounding nervous, “And you guys have known each other for years, so if anything is going to jog your memory… well.”

“Okay,” Percy said, easily.

Annabeth remained silent.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Will said, looking like he absolutely couldn’t wait to get out of the room. He did a second later, slipping out the door and shutting it behind him.

Annabeth looked extraordinarily unhappy to be there. Any care that she had displayed for him when he first woke up was apparently gone. She said nothing as she looked at him with nothing but ice in her eyes.

He didn’t know why exactly she was so pissed-- it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember anything, and wouldn’t it be worse for him anyway? But she didn’t seem keen on speaking to him anytime soon, and Percy figured it was up to him to break the ice.

“So, um. Are you single?” Percy asked. It was dumb, sure, but he didn’t remember shit, and this girl was pretty and she seemed to care about him and well? Might as well shoot his shot.

Annabeth muttered something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like I’m going to kill you. Cool. Definitely did not make her hotter to him, not even a little bit.

“I’m not single,” she said, practically glaring at him.

“Got it. Sorry,” Percy said. For just a second her eyes ducked away, sadness replacing anger. But then she looked back up, and her previous expression was reinstated.

“Why don’t we just stick to you,” she said.

“Sure,” Percy said. He didn't want to make her mad again, because he had a feeling if that kept happening it would not end well for him. He wasn’t sure what could be worse than complete and total amnesia, but looking at Annabeth he was pretty sure she could think of something.

She took a deep breath, a little unsteadily.

“Your name is Percy,” she said, “I guess Will already told you that, though.”

Percy nodded. She moistened her lips, staring down at the ground.

“Okay. What else do you want to know?”

“Where are we?” Percy asked. It wasn’t his most urgent question, but it felt like a safer one to ask. Then again, from the look on Annabeth’s face, maybe that was a miscalculation. She was biting her lip, the anger in her expression softening slightly. It seemed to be replaced by something sad though, and Percy found he almost preferred the anger.

“It’s… a little hard to explain. But we’re at a camp. A summer camp. It’s-- it’s where we met.”

“Why are we here now?” Percy asked. Annabeth shrugged.

“We’re just visiting,” she said.

“Together?” Percy asked. She stared at him, swallowing heavily.

“Yeah. Together,” she said, though she was clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Okay then. Time for a new line of questioning. A safer line, one that hopefully wouldn’t put her on the verge of tears.

“What’s my favorite color?” he asked.

“Blue,” she said, instantly.

“Favorite food?”

“Anything blue,” she said, just as fast.

“I eat blue food?” Percy asked, confused. She smiled for the first time since he’d told her his memory was gone. It was small, but it still made his heart flutter.

“Yeah. It’s sort of an inside joke with you and your mom,” she said. The smile faded just as fast as it had come, but her answer had inadvertently given Percy more information than he’d expected.

“So I’m close to my mom?” Percy asked, unable to help it. Annabeth nodded again. She took a tentative step forward, sitting back down on the chair beside his bed.

“Who else?” he asked, without thinking. Annabeth frowned, a little confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean--” Percy started, realizing this might be a little too much too soon, but wanting to know so badly he couldn’t help but ask anyway, “I mean, who else am I close to?”

Annabeth didn’t answer for a long minute. She was looking down at the ground again, her hands gripping her own shoulders, arms shielding her chest. She seemed to be contemplating something, though what it was, Percy wasn’t sure.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that question. Maybe it was too personal-- with a start Percy realized that Annabeth was probably a pretty high priority for him, given the scant details he knew about their relationship, and him not knowing that intrinsically had to hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Just forget it, tell me something else.”

She finally looked back up at him, though she still seemed upset and unsure.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, though she was clearly forcing her voice not to waver, “Like I said, you’re close to your mom, her name is Sally. You have a sister named Estelle and a brother named Tyson. And your best friend is--” she stumbled, but found herself again, “His name is Grover.”

Percy noticed that Annabeth’s own name was conspicuously absent from that list. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, all things considered, but his curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to know this more than anything.

“What about you?” he asked, voice quiet.

It took her less time to answer than he expected, but she was still quiet for a minute.

“You asked me if I was single,” she said finally, eyes ducked down, a rosy blush growing in her cheeks, “And I said no because-- because we’re dating. We have been for a while.”

“Oh,” Percy said. He could feel his own face getting red, even though this was kind of great news-- or maybe not so great news, considering his stupid brain still couldn’t remember shit. But it still felt right, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Of course he was dating her. That was just correct, an inalienable fact he felt dumb for not knowing, despite not knowing anything at all.

“Yeah,” she said, “But you don’t remember, so… so I don’t know anymore, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, and he felt it. He felt like an idiot, both for trying to flirt with her earlier, and for not putting the pieces together sooner. The hand holding probably should have given it away, at the very least.

To his surprise, Annabeth gave him a small smile, even though her eyes were a little red. She wiped them on her sleeve, clearly trying not to do it in an obvious way.

“Sorry, it’s just-- that’s so you,” she said, sniffling a little.

“What’s so me?” Percy asked. He felt stupid, oblivious, but she just smiled again, a touch wider this time.

“Apologizing for something that isn’t even your fault.”

“I really am sorry,” Percy said, and he felt worse with every word, “I want to remember, I do, it’s just-- all of it’s gone.”

“I know,” she said. She sounded defeated. “I guess it would be too much to ask for you to remember me twice, huh?”

She said it like a joke, but Percy could feel the real pain behind her words. He felt an ache in his chest, like a phantom pain he couldn’t quite place, something in him mirroring her own hurt. He wanted so badly to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.

Or maybe he did. His brain was a jumbled mess, but he did know the only things that had made him feel anything since he’d woken up had to do with her.

“I… I almost get flashes,” he admitted, glancing up at her again. She wasn’t quite meeting his eye, looking somewhere over his shoulder, but he continued anyway. “When you say or do things… It’s like my body knows what to feel but my mind doesn’t know why.”

She glanced up, her eyes finally meeting his own. They were still shining with tears, though not as intensely as before.

“Like how?” she asked, simply. Percy swallowed heavily, not exactly sure what to say. It was hard to describe, given he’d barely recognized his own feelings.

“Like… like when you left, before. I was upset but I didn’t know why. I didn’t know you but I knew… I knew that was supposed to hurt, somehow. And when Will told me about how I got hurt in the first place, how I was trying to keep the frisbee thing from hitting you-- that felt right, but I don’t know why.”

She had graduated to crying in earnest now, tears slipping out of the corner of her eyes and falling down her cheeks. Percy felt the inexplicable urge to reach out and brush them away, but he knew he couldn’t. And that hurt too for some reason, a hollow aching in his chest he couldn’t quite place even though the reason for it was standing right in front of him.

“And right now,” Percy continued, even though maybe he shouldn’t, “You’re upset and I just feel this urge to do something, and I can’t because I don’t know how.”

“Percy, please--” she said, still crying, her voice rough with tears. He didn’t know what she was begging for, but he couldn’t help his next words slipping out, like his tongue knew more what to do than his mind.

“I don’t know anything about me, but I know-- I know I love you. I can feel it. I’m not just saying it either, I swear I can feel it.”

“Percy,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper this time.

“You have to help me, Annabeth. I don’t know what to do,” he said, and this time it was his turn for his voice to get thick, a lump in his throat obscuring his words.

“I--” she started, swallowing heavily, eyes welling with tears again, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes you do,” Percy said, and he was sure she did, something in him just knew, “You always do, don’t you?”

That felt right too, even if he couldn’t place why, but it seemed to mean more to her than to him. She stared at him, eyes wide and scared. She was so close now, close enough that he could see every freckle on her nose.

Annabeth looked so panicked that for a second a second, Percy thought she was going to hit him, but then she did the opposite. She leaned over and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and sweet, and she tasted like strawberries and salt. His lips seemed to know exactly what to do, moving against hers like they’d kiss her a thousand times-- and maybe they had. His hand moved, almost of its own accord to her hair, tangling in it, pulling her a fraction of an inch closer--

And then it hit him. The scent of her shampoo, lemony and sharp and familiar.

He gasped, not meaning to, but she pulled back, grey eyes wide.

“Percy?” she asked, hopeful even as she tried to hide it.

“Annabeth,” he said, trying not to panic as things started to float through his mind-- more than things, memories. Her face and her voice and her words, the feeling of her hand in his and her smile against his lips, it all started to flood back like it had never left.

“Are you--” she asked, her hands on his shoulders, gripping tight, too tight, but he didn’t even care.

“Annabeth,” he breathed, saying her name like a revelation, because it was, “You’re Annabeth Chase, you’re my girlfriend and an architect and you’re scared to death of spiders and you still sleep with a teddy bear--”

She cut him off at that last point, throwing her arms around him and hugging him harder than she ever had-- except for maybe that time she’d thought he was dead for two weeks and he’d crashed his own funeral. Percy hugged her back just as hard, because he actually remembered that.

It hadn’t all come back-- things were blurry, most things, actually. But Annabeth at least felt clear in his mind, a shining beacon welcoming the rest of his memories back. He was already starting to get a headache again, but he didn’t care. They would come back. And even if they didn’t-- he had her. That was enough.

She pulled back from her bone crushing embrace, keeping their faces so close their noses were almost touching. She seemed scared that if she pulled away he might too, even though he had no intention of doing so, physically or mentally.

“So you’re back? Really?” she asked, sounding scared to know the answer.

“Sort of,” Percy confirmed, wincing as he did. He really was starting to get a pounding headache. “I remember you. And bits and pieces of other things, but mostly you.”

Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes for a long moment.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whispered, her hands trailing up his neck, just barely scraping his hair.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he breathed. And he did know, now better than ever. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he’d woken up without his memory, but he knew every minute of it had to have been hell for her.

Annabeth sighed, pulling back further, so he could see her whole face. Her eyes were still red from crying, and her cheeks were still flushed from their kiss. But he could see the barest traces of humor in her expression, a slight tug at the corner of her mouth where a smile was being repressed.

“What?” he asked, but she just shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” she said, but her smile had grown.

“Come on, I just had amnesia. You have to tell me.”

She laughed, a light tinkling sound. It was just on the edge of being hysterical, but she deserved it, after the day she’d been having.

“Fine. I was just thinking-- Hera couldn’t make you forget me but a glorified frisbee could?” Annabeth said.

“Hey, it was heavy!” Percy protested, but he couldn’t help but grin as he did. He would probably stay grinning for the rest of his life, actually.

“You’re such an idiot,” she breathed, pulling him into a hug again, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Percy said, hugging her back. And now he knew he did, in a permanent, tangible way.

There was still a lot missing, but he had the most important bits down. His name was Percy Jackson. He was twenty years old, and in college and a demigod, and lots of other things that would surely return with time.

And he loved Annabeth Chase more than anything in the world.

[niseamstories]

10 Lessons on Realistic Worldbuilding and Mapmaking I Learned Working With a Professional Cartographer and Geodesist

Hi, fellow writers and worldbuilders,

It’s been over a year since my post on realistic swordfighting, and I figured it’s time for another one. I’m guessing the topic is a little less “sexy”, but I’d find this useful as a writer, so here goes: 10 things I learned about realistic worldbuilding and mapmaking while writing my novel.

I’ve always been a sucker for pretty maps, so when I started on my novel, I hired an artist quite early to create a map for me. It was beautiful, but a few things always bothered me, even though I couldn’t put a finger on it. A year later, I met an old friend of mine, who currently does his Ph.D. in cartography and geodesy, the science of measuring the earth. When the conversation shifted to the novel, I showed him the map and asked for his opinion, and he (respectfully) pointed out that it has an awful lot of issues from a realism perspective.

First off, I’m aware that fiction is fiction, and it’s not always about realism; there are plenty of beautiful maps out there (and my old one was one of them) that are a bit fantastical and unrealistic, and that’s all right. Still, considering the lengths I went to ensure realism for other aspects of my worldbuilding, it felt weird to me to simply ignore these discrepancies. With a heavy heart, I scrapped the old map and started over, this time working in tandem with a professional artist, my cartographer friend, and a linguist. Six months later, I’m not only very happy with the new map, but I also learned a lot of things about geography and coherent worldbuilding, which made my universe a lot more realistic.

1)  Realism Has an Effect: While there’s absolutely nothing wrong with creating an unrealistic world, realism does affect the plausibility of a world. Even if the vast majority of us probably know little about geography, our brains subconsciously notice discrepancies; we simply get this sense that something isn’t quite right, even if we don’t notice or can’t put our finger on it. In other words, if, for some miraculous reason, an evergreen forest borders on a desert in your novel, it will probably help immersion if you at least explain why this is, no matter how simple.

2)  Climate Zones: According to my friend, a cardinal sin in fantasy maps are nonsensical climate zones. A single continent contains hot deserts, forests, and glaciers, and you can get through it all in a single day. This is particularly noticeable in video games, where this is often done to offer visual variety (Enderal, the game I wrote, is very guilty of this). If you aim for realism, run your worldbuilding by someone with a basic grasp of geography and geology, or at least try to match it to real-life examples.

3)  Avoid Island Continent Worlds: Another issue that is quite common in fictional worlds is what I would call the “island continents”: a world that is made up of island-like continents surrounded by vast bodies of water. As lovely and romantic as the idea of those distant and secluded worlds may be, it’s deeply unrealistic. Unless your world was shaped by geological forces that differ substantially from Earth’s, it was probably at one point a single landmass that split up into fragmented landmasses separated by waters. Take a look at a proper map of our world: the vast majority of continents could theoretically be reached by foot and relatively manageable sea passages. If it weren’t so, countries such as Australia could have never been colonized – you can’t cross an entire ocean on a raft.

4)  Logical City Placement: My novel is set in a Polynesian-inspired tropical archipelago; in the early drafts of the book and on my first map, Uunili, the nation’s capital, stretched along the entire western coast of the main island. This is absurd. Not only because this city would have been laughably big, but also because building a settlement along an unprotected coastline is the dumbest thing you could do considering it directly exposes it to storms, floods, and, in my case, monsoons. Unless there’s a logical reason to do otherwise, always place your coastal settlements in bays or fjords.

 Naturally, this extends to city placement in general. If you want realism and coherence, don’t place a city in the middle of a godforsaken wasteland or a swamp just because it’s cool. There needs to be a reason. For example, the wasteland city could have started out as a mining town around a vast mineral deposit, and the swamp town might have a trading post along a vital trade route connecting two nations.

 5)  Realistic Settlement Sizes: As I’ve mentioned before, my capital Uunili originally extended across the entire western coast. Considering Uunili is roughly two thirds the size of Hawaii  the old visuals would have made it twice the size of Mexico City. An easy way to avoid this is to draw the map using a scale and stick to it religiously. For my map, we decided to represent cities and townships with symbols alone.

 6)  Realistic Megacities: Uunili has a population of about 450,000 people. For a city in a Middle Ages-inspired era, this is humongous. While this isn’t an issue, per se (at its height, ancient Alexandria had a population of about 300,000), a city of that size creates its own set of challenges: you’ll need a complex sewage system (to minimize disease spreading like wildfire) and strong agriculture in the surrounding areas to keep the population fed. Also, only a small part of such a megacity would be enclosed within fantasy’s ever-so-present colossal city walls; the majority of citizens would probably concentrate in an enormous urban sprawl in the surrounding areas. To give you a pointer, with a population of about 50,000, Cologne was Germany’s biggest metropolis for most of the Middle Ages. I’ll say it again: it’s fine to disregard realism for coolness in this case, but at least taking these things into consideration will not only give your world more texture but might even provide you with some interesting plot points.

 7)  World Origin: This point can be summed up in a single question: why is your world the way it is? If your novel is set in an archipelago like mine is, are the islands of volcanic origin? Did they use to be a single landmass that got flooded with the years? Do the inhabitants of your country know about this? Were there any natural disasters to speak of? Yes, not all of this may be relevant to the story, and the story should take priority over lore, but just like with my previous point, it will make your world more immersive.

 8)  Maps: Think Purpose! Every map in history had a purpose. Before you start on your map, think about what yours might have been. Was it a map people actually used for navigation? If so, clarity should be paramount. This means little to no distracting ornamentation, a legible font, and a strict focus on relevant information. For example, a map used chiefly for military purposes would naturally highlight different information than a trade map. For my novel, we ultimately decided on a “show-off map” drawn for the Blue Island Coalition, a powerful political entity in the archipelago (depending on your world’s technology level, maps were actually scarce and valuable). Also, think about which technique your in-universe cartographer used to draw your in-universe map. Has copperplate engraving already been invented in your fictional universe? If not, your map shouldn’t use that aesthetic.

9)  Maps: Less Is More. If a spot or an area on a map contains no relevant information, it can (and should) stay blank so that the reader’s attention naturally shifts to the critical information. Think of it this way: if your nav system tells you to follow a highway for 500 miles, that’s the information you’ll get, and not “in 100 meters, you’ll drive past a little petrol station on the left, and, oh, did I tell you about that accident that took place here ten years ago?” Traditional maps follow the same principle: if there’s a road leading a two day’s march through a desolate desert, a black line over a blank white ground is entirely sufficient to convey that information.

10) Settlement and Landmark Names: This point will be a bit of a tangent, but it’s still relevant. I worked with a linguist to create a fully functional language for my novel, and one of the things he criticized about my early drafts were the names of my cities. It’s embarrassing when I think about it now, but I really didn’t pay that much attention to how I named my cities; I wanted it to sound good, and that was it. Again: if realism is your goal, that’s a big mistake. Like Point 5, we went back to the drawing board and dove into the archipelago’s history and established naming conventions. In my novel, for example, the islands were inhabited by indigenes called the Makehu before the colonization four hundred years before the events of the story; as it’s usually the case, all settlements and islands had purely descriptive names back then. For example, the main island was called Uni e Li, which translates as “Mighty Hill,” a reference to the vast mountain ranges in the south and north; townships followed the same example (e.g., Tamakaha meaning “Coarse Sands”). When the colonizers arrived, they adopted the Makehu names and adapted them into their own language, changing the accented, long vowels to double vowels: Uni e Li became “Uunili,” Lehō e Āhe became “Lehowai.” Makehu townships kept their names; colonial cities got “English” monikers named after their geographical location, economic significance, or some other original story. Examples of this are Southport, a—you guessed it—port on the southernmost tip of Uunili, or Cale’s Hope, a settlement named after a businessman’s mining venture. It’s all details, and chances are that most readers won’t even pay attention, but I personally found that this added a lot of plausibility and immersion.

I could cover a lot more, but this post is already way too long, so I’ll leave it at that—if there’s enough interest, I’d be happy to make a part two. If not, well, maybe at least a couple of you got something useful out of this. If you’re looking for inspiration/references to show to your illustrator/cartographer, the David Rumsey archive is a treasure trove. Finally, for anyone who doesn’t know and might be interested, my novel is called Dreams of the Dying, and is a blends fantasy, mystery, and psychological horror set in the universe of Enderal, an indie RPG for which I wrote the story. It’s set in a Polynesian-inspired medieval world and has been described as Inception in a fantasy setting by reviewers.

Credit for the map belongs to Dominik Derow, who did the ornamentation, and my friend Fabian Müller, who created the map in QGIS and answered all my questions with divine patience. The linguist’s name is David Müller (no, they’re not related, and, yes, we Germans all have the same last names.)

[ickle-ronniekins]

black & white

request: from nonnie: ASDFGhjkl. Why are your fics so CUTE? 😭 Can I request a cute and cheesy George proposing to the fem!reader—and they’re wedding? 💜

desc: a love story unfolded via a timeline of events and colors. based on the song ‘black and white’ by niall horan

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k

warning(s): lil bit of angst, alcohol, some sexual content if you squint but it stops before things ~heat up~

A/N: this is just pure fluff. may or may not have cried at the cheesiness. idk. i’m a cheesy gal. can’t help it. i’m in love with a fictional character. sorry i went a tad overboard with this. also let’s pretend ~voldy~ doesn’t exist in this k? reminder that my requests are currently closed, i am merely working through the requests already in my inbox. i do not give permission for my work to be posted on any other platform.

Red

Red, hot fury swept through your bones as you watched him laugh hysterically alongside his brother. You balled your fists together, ready to throw a punch, but you knew your mum would lock you in your room until you were forty years of age if you even thought of throwing hands.

George Weasley was a pretentious little git. It was bad enough that he was your neighbour and you had to see him and his equally annoying twin in the village nearly every day, but what made it even worse was that for whatever reason, he’d chosen you to be on the receiving end of all of his pranks. His mother, Molly, was not for it -- she often gave her sons a solid tongue lashing, but it clearly never made an impact, for each and every day they were back to their normal mischief, seeking out ways to make you shake with anger.

“Weasley!” you squeaked as he and his brother ran back across the field toward their home. You loathed the idea of being in the same school as him in just two years time. At least here, at home, you could escape to your own house and your own room, far away from the boy who teasingly threw a red paint balloon all over you and your new dress. But at school, well -- the castle was only so big, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how far away from him you’d be able to get.

You watched as he and Fred ran away, their giggles echoing through the air on top of the hill. You looked down at your ruined dress and screamed. You reckoned you’d never be able to love the colour red ever again -- not when it had ruined your beautiful purple dress, and especially when it was the colour of his annoying, messy hair.

Yellow

“I’m really sorry.”

He was standing across from you in the field. You thought about telling him that you needed to take four showers in order to get all of the red paint from your hair, and that your dress was permanently stained, but instead you folded your arms across your chest and huffed a bit. Not even magic could salvage it.

“I promise, I mean it,” he squeaked, as if he could read your mind. He seemed sincere, but he was always getting into all types of trouble, wasn’t he? Perhaps he was as good a liar as he was a pranker.

You kicked at the dirt, unsure of what to say. “You ruined my dress.”

“I know, I’m really sorry,” he said again, “it was all Freddie’s doing! I know he normally takes charge of pranks, but blimey, I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”

You arched your eyebrows up in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah,” George told you. The wind ruffled the leaves on the tree next to you both, and you watched him tentatively as a big smile split his face. He wandered over to the tree trunk and picked at the flowers that were growing at the base. Then he turned around, marched right over to you, and handed them to you.

Yellow dandelions. You peered down at them, and then looked up at him in surprise. This wouldn’t fix your dress, but he was trying, at least. You noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks when he smiled. “Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

You couldn’t help it; you blushed and looked toward the ground. You picked a bit at the flowers and met George’s gaze once again. “You still owe me, Weasley.”

You both heard Molly calling him for dinner. “Okay, mum!” he called back, his voice echoing against the wind. He turned back toward you. “Promise. I owe you. I also promise to kick Fred’s arse since it was his idea anyway.”

A squeak of a giggle emitted from your lips and you watched as George Weasley skipped all the way home.

Blue

All of Ravenclaw house erupted into cheers as the colours of the Great Hall changed to celebrate the momentous occasion of your house winning the Quidditch Cup. It had been a neck to neck match against Gryffindor, but had you not caught the snitch before Harry, they would have had it in the bag for the third year in a row.

“At the risk of sounding like I’m pro Ravenclaw, I’ve got to say, you guys put up a great match,” you whirled around in the crowd and saw George standing in front of you. He had his hands in his pockets and he shrugged, clearly upset at a Gryffindor loss, but at least they hadn’t lost to Slytherin, right? “You really are a wicked Seeker.”

“Thanks, Weasley,” you said triumphantly, both pleased with yourself for winning but also feeling a little bit guilty for beating Gryffindor.

“When did you get so good anyway?”

“Hmm,” you placed your hand to your chin and pretended to be deep in thought, “do you mean, how did I get to be so incredible? I don’t have an answer for you, truthfully, reckon I was just born with it.”

Students filtered around you both, and you watched him laugh as blue confetti fell around the both of you and the rest of the Great Hall. Personally you thought it was a little much, but the captain had insisted. You met George’s gaze again though, and rolled your eyes.

“Oi, mate,” you heard Fred call. He reached his twin and threw an arm around his shoulders, “what’re you doing over here, conversing with the enemy?” You rolled your eyes yet again, something you found yourself doing quite often with the two of them, and Fred just grinned obnoxiously at you. “Only joking, Y/N. I suppose if anyone had to beat us, we’re glad it’s Ravenclaw. But if you repeat that, we’ll deny it, I swear to Merlin.”

“My lips are sealed, Freddie.”

You bid them both adieu before turning back to your house, celebrating and clinking your goblets of pumpkin juice together, and through the yelps and the cheers, you missed George say to Fred that he actually quite liked the way the Great Hall looked, all decorated in blue.

Orange

“How about you get to work on the ground Unicorn horn, and I’ll try and get this water crystalized?” you offered.

Today’s lesson was to brew the Oculus Potion, in the event any of you ever needed to restore someone’s sight. In an attempt to separate them, Snape had paired George with you and Fred with another Ravenclaw who didn’t look happy at all at the prospect of having him as her partner. You peered over the cauldron at George and said, “No worries. We’ve only got thirteen steps. I reckon if we keep at this without any distractions, we’ll be finished before the rest of class.”

“Better get cracking, then,” George replied.

The two of you worked in comfortable silence; you tensed a few times when Snape meandered by your table, peering down into your cauldron and scoffing, for you were certain that an attempt at any type of potion would never live up to his unrealistic expectations of two sixteen-year-olds.

A little while later, you realized that the heat emitting from all of the cauldrons was making the entire classroom incredibly warm. “Blimey, could he open a bloody window, or something?” you asked, ignoring the fact that there were absolutely no windows in the dungeons. George laughed and continued to add the crystalized water into your cauldron as you pulled your sweater over your head, leaving you in your white button down and blue and grey tie. You pulled your hair back off of your neck and said, “Alright, be sure to only add the water until it turns indigo, George.”

The poor lad hadn’t been paying attention, because your potion was far past indigo at this point. In fact, it looked as though it had turned a deep, navy blue, bordering on black, as George peered at you with soft eyes and continued to pour in the crystalized water, not realizing that he was messing up your carefully brewed potion. A snapping noise pulled him from his thoughts, and a slight explosion erupted from your cauldron and caused black smoke to cover George’s face and hair.

Most of the class began to laugh, but Snape angrily shushed them and sauntered over to the two of you, clearly giddy beyond belief that he was able to deduct points from both of your houses for causing such a ruckus in his precious dungeons. George wiped a bit of the soot from his forehead as you poured in the antidote and giggled.

“Merlin, I’m sorry -- didn’t mean to get points taken from your house.”

“Eh, it was bound to happen sooner or later.. don’t worry about it. Look! Good as new,” you clapped your hands together as the potion turned to the desired shade of orange before the final two steps. You met George’s look through the orange haze over your cauldron and asked him, “What had you so distracted anyway, Weasley?”

“Oh, erm -- nothing,” he replied a bit quickly. It didn’t go unnoticed how he’d stumbled over his words and immediately went back to looking rather intently at the directions. You bit back a smile and looked back down at yours too, unable to rid yourself of the nerves bubbling up inside of you as George looked up once again, stealing glances at you through the orange mist as nerves overtook him, too.

Green

“You had no right to do that! What the bloody hell were you thinking?”

George was standing across from you on the empty dance floor; the Yule Ball had ended abruptly and each and every student had filtered from the Great Hall and back to their respective dormitories, per the teachers. The two of you had managed to stay somehow, now more than ten feet away; you looked at one another with envy as a dramatic scene unfurled between you both.

The entire night had been nothing but a dream, up until that one dance. You’d waltzed in, your light green dress swaying beautifully near your ankles, your hand wrapped around your date’s arm. You waved to your friends, who stood with their respective dates as well, and promised yourself you’d catch up with them at the end of the night when you’d undoubtedly have stories to tell them of the most magical evening of your life.

Except that wasn’t how it worked out, had it?

“He was all over you!” George called, and you noticed how prominent the veins in his hands were when he threw them up in the air. “You said no, didn’t you? He asked you to come back to his dorm and you’d said no. Did you expect me to stand there and do nothing when he grabbed your wrists and tried to pull you there?”

George was right. You had said no, and truthfully, the way your date had grabbed you and attempted to drag you back to his room had really frightened you. You reckoned it was the firewhisky he’d drunk earlier that evening -- he wasn’t violent or anything, but he seemed desperate to get you there. All George had done was step in and stand up for you, so why on earth should you be angry at him?

You didn’t want to give George the satisfaction of letting him know that he was right. You were mad at him for other reasons, anyway. It should’ve been you that he asked to the ball, not that other disturbingly annoying Beauxbatons girl. It’s like he’d picked her particularly because he knew her annoying, bubbly personality and thick French accent would get right under your skin.

You softened a bit as you took a deep breath. “I appreciate what you did, George, but it wasn’t your place. I can take care of myself. He nearly knocked you right out!”

George winced at your words and brought a hand to his black and blue eye. He hadn’t even had the time to grab some ice and place it to the injury, and it was now rather swollen. “I don’t care if he knocked me to the bloody ground, I wasn’t going to let him do that to you!”

You couldn’t help it; anger took you over and you were saying things you shouldn’t have before you could second guess yourself. “Well you know what, George? Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!”

You knew your words hurt him, but you didn’t care. He looked as though he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him; he stepped backward and faltered a bit. His breathing became heavy and irregular. “You already had your date when I asked her, Y/N -- don’t you dare try and pin this on me.”

He was right, yet again. You couldn’t help it. Big, fat tears were falling down your face now and you reckoned you wouldn’t be able to salvage the rest of the hideousness that was this evening. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and noticed the smears of black mascara and eyeliner on your skin. He inched forward now and opened his arms, but you backed away, still not ready to show him any affection.

You were being a git, but the truth was, you’d waited until the very last possible second for George to ask you to the ball. So when he didn’t, you begrudgingly agreed to the Hufflepuff who’d stepped forward and asked you himself. And as you walked swiftly passed George and up the steps to your common room, you realized that though you’d said yes, your heart had been with the Weasley boy you so adored the entire evening.

In truth, what he’d done was brave and full of love and passion. But you were still filled with hurt.

The green monster of jealousy that you’d felt when you’d watched him dance with his date was such a vice, but you just couldn’t help how you felt.

You left George alone in the desolate Great Hall as he let his head fall into his hands, pushing down his fury and tears.

Grey

You hadn’t gone back to him, that boy from the Yule Ball. You thought about it, but you figured you’d spare George more anger.

He’d approached you, your date, the day afterwards, apologizing profusely for his behaviour and how embarrassed he was at the whole ordeal. He’d asked you for lunch, only if you were okay, and you politely declined. “Friends,” you’d said, and he smiled pitifully, but gratefully, and took your hand in his to shake it.

It was so stupid, wasn’t it? Fighting with George over this. So he hadn’t asked you to the Yule Ball, so what? It wasn’t the end all, be all, was it? And he’d stood up for you, hadn’t he? When things had gotten a little out of control. He hadn’t been your date, but he had been your saviour.

It had only been a week since the dance and you two hadn’t said a word to one another. Fred had begged you too. “Come on, Y/N, you know he’s real sorry. Can’t you just forgive him? Blimey, it’s a right difficult thing to do, splitting my time between you both.”

You merely pressed your lips together and huffed. “He can come apologize to me himself, Fred. He doesn’t need you to do it for him.”

But later that afternoon, you figured, why wait? This whole thing was so dramatic and stupid. And so after rereading the same page eight times due to your lack of concentration, you jumped up from your chair in the Ravenclaw common room and made way toward the Great Hall, as fast as your legs could carry you. You were just going to tell him exactly that -- that this entire thing was dumb, and that you were thankful for him, and that bloody hell, you missed him. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic -- it had only been six days, right? You couldn’t help it. You missed him. You missed him a lot.

The thought of finally speaking to him after a very dramatic week apart made your heart flutter, and a very wide smile split your face just as you were about to round the last bend before the Great Hall.

And then you saw it. Them. Tucked away in a corner near a deserted classroom -- tangled together, George’s hands on her waist, hers in his long red hair. Her lips nearly on his. Smiling, giggling. Kissing him.

That bloody annoying Beauxbatons girl.

You stopped short and nearly tripped over your own two feet. You opened your mouth to speak but just let your mouth tremble in silence as you watched them snog one another. Her laugh was so painfully sugary sweet, you felt as though you’d like to rip your own hair out.

You were surprised how quickly the sight of them had sent your heart plummeting into your stomach. Somewhere in the few moments when you stood there in shock, your vision had become blurry and your face had become wet. You wiped at it with your sweater sleeve and sniffled quietly so they wouldn’t hear you. You spun on your heel and sped back toward your common room, wondering what the bloody hell had come over you when you thought of apologizing to him. You just wanted to get back to your dorm. Or perhaps back to your house in Ottery St. Catchpole. Stupid, silly girl you were.

If only you knew that George had spotted you before you’d left and froze solid in the spot he was standing, ignoring the forwardness of the Beauxbatons girl attached to his arm, his heart and mind chasing you all the way home.

Purple

The Ravenclaw common room was completely empty except for you. You always did this, though -- each and every year, you were always the last to finish packing. Not because you were a procrastinator, but because you hated admitting to yourself that another year was over, and you were another year closer to impending graduation.

Someone popped through the door and said your name softly. You turned and saw George standing there with a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said, “train’s here. You almost ready to go?”

You groaned and looked back down at your trunk, now fully packed. “If I’ve got to be.” You felt like an absolute idiot that those few words brought tears to your eyes so easily. “Oi, here I go again.”

George laughed lightly and pulled you into a hug. “We’ll be back in no time, you’ll see again how quickly the summer holidays go.”

“But George, it’s our last year!” you cried. And then you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, because you didn’t fancy the idea of boarding the train with smudged makeup and a red nose. “Anyway, shall we?”

When you grabbed your trunk and headed toward the door, George gently took your hand in his and turned you around. “I’ve got something for you actually.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him and clapped your hands together. “A present? It’s not even my birthday.”

But then you wondered if it was actually a present he wanted to give you, because he took your other hand in his and squeezed them, a serious look on his face. Your features twisted into that of confusion, and you’d be lying if you said that your heartbeat didn’t increase at the sight of him looking at you so earnestly. “What is it?”

“I’ve been a real git this year. Specifically, the Yule Ball. And a little while after that.”

You laughed and playfully shoved him. Though you still felt the sting of those few weeks, you two had managed to patch things up. He hadn’t lasted that long with that Beauxbatons girl anyway. “George, we’ve been over this, c’mon -- you were only doing what you thought was right. I’ve forgiven you, you know.”

“I know,” he smiled, and you could tell that he was equally as glad as you were that you two had placed that argument behind you. But what you two hadn’t touched on since then was what you’d said to him in a fit of fury: Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!

Of course he’d wanted to ask you. He’d wanted to ask you more than anything in the entire world, but each and every time he’d opened his mouth to say something, he couldn’t. Bloody nerves, and all that. Then he went and acted like a prat, making you cry, and he vowed to himself that he’d never make you cry again, unless it were happy tears.

“I realized I’ve never properly made it up to you -- not asking you to the the Yule Ball in the first place, and that time when we were nine.”

You raised your eyebrows suspiciously. “When we were nine? What the bloody hell happened when we were nine?”

And then he pulled from his pocket the most beautiful lavender pendant you ever did see. The circular stone was outlined in the same silver as the chain, and the sun flooding in from the windows made it sparkle more than anything you’d ever seen in your life. Your breath caught in your throat and you looked back and forth from the necklace to George, and back again.

“I ruined your purple dress, remember?” he asked you. He laughed a bit, probably thinking about the ridiculous way you’d looked with red paint splattered all over you. You couldn’t believe he remembered that. “Now, it’s not a dress, but seeing as we’ve grown up a bit since then, I reckoned you’d prefer something a little nicer.” He swallowed over a lump in his throat before continuing. “I never fancied her, you know. That girl from Beauxbatons. I just...” he trailed off, searching for words he couldn’t seem to muster up. You wondered if he could hear the dramatic thump of your heart, beating loudly in the heavy silence. “It doesn’t matter. It was you I wanted to be with that night, and long after. I still do.”

Then he brushed aside your hair and placed the pendant around your neck. You peered at him through blurry vision, and surprised yourself that you were now crying due to the tenderness of his touch and the emotion in his gift and not that you two were about the board the train and leave school, no longer the same two people you were just a few moments ago.

You did the only thing you could think of and you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. You felt his shock, but it took him only mere milliseconds before he was kissing you back. In truth, you’d been wondering what it would feel like to kiss him -- the taste of him, the feel of your limbs entangled together, exactly how high your heart would soar. It was exactly the way first kisses were meant to be -- slow, and easy, and warm, the way it’s supposed to feel after having swam all day long -- your body limp and muscles de-tensing. You moulded perfectly with him, and when gravity (or rather, the first signal of the train’s departure) pulled you from one another, he peered at you with such affection that you felt as though you might explode.

You grabbed the pendant and held in gently in between your fingers, already having memorized the outline of the silver and the different shades of purple within it. “I am so bloody happy you threw red paint at me that day, Weasley.”

He laughed haughtily, throwing his head back before swinging an arm around your waist and pulling your trunk toward the exit of the Ravenclaw common room. “Merlin, me too.”

White

You were sitting at your kitchen table, ignoring the massive amount of work in front of you to admire your other hard work. Your cozy little flat looked just as you always imagined it would, with the added bonus of your boyfriend in the corner of the front entrance, fixing a loose coat hanger on the wall.

Never in your life did you imagine that things could be as perfect as this.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a flat you two would share one day.

You got up and brought with you his half empty glass of wine and handed it to him. Gratefully he took it and sipped before pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead. But then you gently traced his jawline with your finger, down his neck, across his collar bone until he followed your move and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and chaste and everything like your first one had been. But as the alcohol worked its way through your veins, you found yourself pressing yourself harder against him.

A moan of content escaped him as you bit down on his lip and slipped your hands underneath his shirt, hands pressed against his chest. Unashamedly, you pulled him toward your bedroom, and he placed his empty wine glass next to yours on the table as he kicked the door closed.

The two of you fell backwards onto the bed in an entanglement of limbs. He hovered above you, dropping down a bit to press light kisses to your neck, in between your collarbones, behind your ears, against your jawline. You so desperately wanted to feel his weight on top of you, and so you yanked him firmly against you and kissed him in a way that there was no aching way that he wouldn’t be able to tell exactly what you wanted.

He began to undo the buttons on your shirt, taking time to press kisses into your chest at the exposed places before he stopped himself and gently ran his hands across your hips, and then your cheek. His voice was merely a whisper in the deafening silence, “Are you sure?”

He gazed at you with such tenderness and love that you knew he’d stop, if you’d asked him to. He wouldn’t go another inch further if you weren’t ready. And for you, that was more than enough.

“I’m sure.”

He sucked in a breath and dipped down to press lips to yours gently before continuing to make light work of your clothes. He explored every inch of you, and the sensation of his lips gently grazing your skin caused you to arch your back in pleasure. You could feel him smiling against you, wildly in love, handling you with such care as if you were a tiny glass figure he was afraid of breaking. He held you so delicately and worked his way through each and every single one of your wants with slow and gentle hands.

You’d known it was love with him; maybe not consciously, but you’d known it long before now. Love, filled with intensity and desire and longing, in its most vulnerable and fragile form -- pure, and blinding white.

Pink

The summer air wafted in through the open window in the kitchen, and you listened to Mrs. Weasley hum some Muggle song as she set the table for dessert. You placed the finishing touches on the lemon meringue pie you baked, special because it was George’s favourite and Mrs. Weasley had insisted.

You had to admit, he’d always had the outside exterior of a tough guy, but owning a business did absolute wonders for his confidence. You noticed the way he stood up a little straighter, smiled a little bigger, and most of all, just how much he gushed about all the plans you two would be able to act on, now that you were both making income of your own.

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N, you’ve absolutely knocked it out of the park with this pie, if I do say so myself.” Arthur’s praise was nothing short of wonderful; you felt the tips of your ears turn pink at his compliments. By the way Ron slouched back in his chair, looking rather chuffed indeed, you could tell he felt the same exact way. Especially when he reached for the last piece, but Hermione slapped his hand away.

“Oh my!” Molly yelped suddenly. You jumped in surprise in your seat. “Oh, Georgie dear, would you mind wandering into the field before dark? I’d love some wildflowers for the table,”

“Sure thing, mum.” George replied before turning to you and squeezing your hand. “Want to tag along?”

You said, “Of course” at the exact same time Ron said “I’ll come along too, I could use a good walk” and if you hadn’t been so focused on George’s tender gaze, you almost would’ve missed Fred silently hissing at Ron and Hermione slapping his hand yet again. “On second thought,” Ron swallowed thickly, “I’d better stay here and help you clean up, mum.”

“Atta boy, Ronniekins,” Molly said. To you and George, she continued, “You two better get going -- not long now before it turns dark!”

George stood and pulled you to your feet. “You coming, love?”

“I go where you go.”

About twenty minutes later, as the setting sun had blended with the light purples and pinks of the sky, you’d found yourself with a rather beautiful bouquet of wildflowers for Molly. You turned to George, who was leaning against the tree and smiling at you, and asked, “Shall we get going darling? Don’t want to be too late. I reckon your mum will come out here searching for us if we spend an evening among the stars.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, actually.” His grin deepened, and then he said, “you’re lucky I don’t have any pranks up my sleeve right now.”

You look up at the tree and recognized the place where he’d infuriated you all those long years ago. You rolled your eyes and shook your head before twirling in your dress. “I am lucky. I was able to get a new dress after the one you so lovingly ruined. Though I will admit -- I wasn’t all that big of a fan of those puffy sleeves. This one’s much more adult.”

George arched his eyebrow in surprise before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Oh yes it is.”

You slapped him playfully and pointed your finger at him. “Alright you prat, calm yourself, you’ll have to wait until we get back to our flat for any funny business.”

But then you realized, as George’s features turned from mischievous to genuine within the matter of seconds, that there was definitely more pressing matters than funny business on his mind.

And then he was telling you how he’d only teased you back then because he’d found you so bloody cute, and how he should’ve asked you to the Yule Ball and regretted every single day that he didn’t, and how he’d never met anyone who could play Quidditch quite as well as you, and how bloody happy he’d been when you’d kissed him that day in the Ravenclaw common room. And then knelt down and he asked it, the words you’d imagined since you were a little girl, strung together with such fondness and emotion and tenderness that you weren’t quite sure how you were standing upright.

You’d already begun to nod quickly through your tears before he finished, but would he really be George Weasley if he didn’t tease you, just a little? “Say yes,” he laughed, “say yes and marry me and be my wife for as long as you’ll have me.”

He slid the ring onto your finger and kissed you and picked you up and whirled you around in the field and held you gently in his arms as though you were a precious glass figurine and he was doing everything in his power to hold you delicately.

“Yes. I say yes.”

Black & White

You asked, When did you first know?

And he answered, I always knew.

You both ran back up the aisle, your white dress fluttering around your ankles, his black suit hugging the curves of his arms, and into the field and away from the party, momentarily, to celebrate your first moments as husband and wife in the place where he’d figured it all out.

He’d known since that afternoon when he’d handed you those yellow dandelions that he would bring you back here one day, to ask you to be his wife. He’d known, in the Ravenclaw common room when he gave you that purple pendant, still dangling from your neck, that one day he’d also give you a ring. He’d known, all those long years ago, that he wanted to marry you, and that you would say yes, when he’d finally ask.

And now, in front of your friends and family, he’d vowed to love you -- love in it’s purest and simplest form, love -- with all it’s sentiment and emotion and vulnerability. He vowed to love you and only you for the rest of his life.

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @acciotwinz @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight @hannolannno @msmimimerton @oh-for-merlins-sake @hufflepuff5972 @pigwidgexn @sarcasticallywitty15 @breadqueen95 @mycupoffanfictionreads | message me to be added or removed!

[mochiable]

— fun lovin’. (s)

REQUESTED — hii!! can you write about jungkook, where it’s the reader’s and his anniversary or valentine’s day and they’re in a hot tub just celebrating and spending alone time?? you can make it suggestive if you want! 💗 I really like your writing 🥺❤️ ps. do you have a masterlist?? ( @cappujinho ) — thank you so much for requesting and for liking what i write, it means a lot to me, really! the masterlist will be uploaded in a few days, i promise you'll have it soon!

summary: you and jungkook celebrate valentine's day in the february frost.

wc: 1.7k

requests are open!

valentine's day was not a celebration that used to appeal to you. It seemed that couples only behaved a certain way on february 14, and the rest of the year everything went back to normal, following the current monotony. waking up, going to work, going back to sleep. now that you stop to think about it, maybe that's exactly why they indulged in an expensive restaurant for dinner or spent the night in the park where they met. yes, it sounded clich��, but come on, valentine's day has the word cliché more than associated with it.

now, however, you felt something had changed. it wasn't just that you now had a partner, but that in one way or another, the misgivings you’d felt for years about that particular day in february had become an illusion that was puzzling you.

since the beginning of the month, you couldn't stop imagining different scenarios in which you and your boyfriend would celebrate valentine's day in different ways. maybe that's why, as the date approached, your nerves were coming to the surface. it might seem stupid, but you were afraid that what would happen on that day wouldn't meet your expectations and would, however, make the worst-case scenarios that had crossed your mind come true.

you’d never been an insecure person. you’d never doubted yourself or your feelings, but you did have doubts about others’. don't get me wrong, it's not that jungkook had acted inappropriately or had given you reasons for these "insecurities" to appear, but you couldn't help but put yourself in the worst possible situation. maybe that was your way of protecting yourself, even though you had already lowered the barrier when you let jungkook into your life. it could be that you panicked about how he could turn it upside down.

anyway, your day started with a message from your boyfriend: "happy valentine’s day, sweetheart. i can't wait until it's time to come home and celebrate. have a great morning, i love you.” that message had definitely just brightened up your morning and had dispelled even a part of the nerves that were showing in the form of annoying flies in your tummy. "i’m looking forward to it too."

but what you were so looking forward to didn't happen when you got home. you came home thinking jungkook would be there, sitting on the couch waiting for you and saying something cheesy, but all you got was a message: “work is piling up and i don't think i’ll be home in time. i’m sorry, love.”

however, the disappointment you felt at that moment ceased when the first thing you noticed when you walked into the living room was a pink piece of paper lying face down on the centre table. it wasn't until you approached the table, leaving your coat and bag on the sofa, that you realised it was an envelope. with a slight frown, you picked it up and turned it over. you couldn't help but smile when you noticed your boyfriend's handwriting on the envelope: “to y/n, from jungkook.” intrigued, you decided to open the envelope and found a letter of the same colour, which had what you thought was a riddle written on a small border.

“where is it cold but warm at the same time?”

you bit your lip as soon as you read the question, and let out a small laugh - why had he written a riddle knowing that you stank in them? you pondered the question for a few more minutes, thinking about every room in the house, but you couldn't think of anything. the kitchen? no, it was just cold in there. perhaps the bathroom? you got up from the couch and headed towards that room, but, as you expected, there was nothing special about it. sighing and tapping your forehead with the letter, you walked over to the window overlooking your terrace. it was the moment you saw the snowflakes on the wooden floor that it hit you - the jacuzzi!

you stumbled out of the bathroom, bumping into the door and getting your jacket sleeve caught in the handle. annoyed, you cursed and began to shake your arm free. once you managed to do so, you started running towards the glass doors leading to your terrace. without a second thought you opened them and stepped out without having wrapped up warmly. the icy snowflakes were hitting your warm skin, giving you goose bumps. you started walking towards the jacuzzi and, once you were a few metres away from it, you couldn't believe your eyes.

jungkook was inside the hot tub, with a brand new bottle of champagne and two crystal glasses beside him. he’d had a huge television set up outside the house, which was opposite the jacuzzi, so you could watch a marathon of the series you'd been so fond of for the past few days. the black-haired boy was laying with his head on the edge of the tub, his eyes closed, and little snowflakes tangled in his dark hair.

“the hot tub,” you suddenly blurted out, still keeping your distance and controlling your heartbeat. jungkook raised his head and locked his eyes with yours, giving you his trademark rabbit smile, revealing his perfect white teeth, “‘where it's cold but warm at the same time?’” you repeated the riddle with a chuckle as you slowly moved closer to him, “you know i’m not good at guessing,” you whispered once you reached his side. he grinned in amusement, turning to his side so he could see your face more easily.

“well, you've done it. i’m no good at setting up surprises either,” he admitted, pulling his arms out of the tub and resting them on the edge, then resting his chin on them and looking at you with amusement as he licked his lower lip before speaking again, “hobi hyung planned the whole thing,” he confessed remorselessly, making you both laugh.

“what a way to screw up the moment,” you joked, cupping his cheeks and pulling his face close to yours. you left a small, tender kiss on his nose, causing his smile to reappear.

“well, you’re gonna get in or do i have to do it for you?” he asked provocatively, arching an eyebrow as he leaned his back against the wall of the tub again.

“are you so eager to see me with my clothes off?” you teased, slowly starting to undo the buttons of your white shirt. you saw how your boyfriend's gaze no longer rested on your face, but on the bare skin of your chest.

“you have no idea,” he murmured, sensually biting his lower lip. once you had finished opening your shirt you made a move to take it off, but jungkook stopped you before you could do it, “no, no. leave it on.”

you raised an eyebrow, unable to stop a wicked smile from forming on your lips. you nodded obediently at his request and lowered your gaze to your lower limbs, “shall i take my trousers off?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“if you don't, i’ll rip them off with my teeth,” he replied impatiently, swallowing hard and making his adam's apple more noticeable.

“i have the kinkiest boyfriend,” you teased, slowly entering the jacuzzi in just your black underwear and a shirt that barely covered your thighs. you watched as jungkook's eyes fell on your firm, slender legs, and you couldn't feel prouder that you had been working out these past few days.

“that’s how you like me,” he replied confidently, spreading his legs a little so you could sit comfortably on his lap. once you were settled, he wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you to him, bringing your faces dangerously close. jungkook averted his gaze to the water and, stroking your hips with his long fingers, brought his gaze back up and connected his now dark orbs with yours. you felt your breath hitch as he brought his face even closer to yours and blew on your mouth, his minty breath crashing against your parted lips, “are you cold?”

“not anymore,” you whispered against his lips, holding back the temptation to jump on his mouth and never let go again. jungkook, seeing how you wouldn't look away from his pink, pompous lips, took the trouble to run his tongue along his lower lip, moistening them and making them even more tantalising than they were before.

“well, i do,” he said, raising his right arm and stroking the back of his hand across your moist, bare breast. he looked up from his hand to your eyes and raised an eyebrow, letting out a mischievous grin. when his index finger began to descend into the channel between your breasts, you let out a gasp and closed your eyes, “no, no, no. i want them open,” he commanded, bringing his hand back to your cheek and pulling your face close to his, “like this,” he murmured, making contact with your sensitive skin again.

with his digits, he began to make imaginary lines, connecting each of the freckles on your chest, smiling like a little boy when he saw how you flinched at his touch. then, he brought his free hand to one of yours and directed it to his left bicep, guiding your hand up and down so you could notice how each of the hairs on his arm stood on end. at that point you gave him a confused look, causing him to let out a sigh and settle you on his lap, bringing your intimate areas into rough contact, both gasping at the strong friction, “you can always warm me up,” he proposed, his lustful eyes falling on yours and giving you a fierce look, the way a lion looks at its prey before devouring it. and you were sure jungkook wasn't gonna wait much longer to do so. and you didn't want another second to pass until you could taste his enticing flavour in your mouth, because you needed him, right here, right now.

“i can't wait to make it,” you mumbled, running your fingers down his abs, gently brushing his cool skin with your warm fingertips, sending electric sparks to every lucid nerve in his body.

jungkook debated no more and pressed his lips against yours, in a kiss that radiated not only desire and passion, but affection and need. because you both had waited so long for a moment like this, and because you weren’t going to waste another second of your valentine's day.

because from that day on, you stopped hating the 14th of february.

[goddessofroyalty]

So I may be being a... little obsessed with the omega!Rufus & his beta!Turks idea I have running through my mind. So I decided to make a ficlet collection of it on AO3. 

Here’s the first bit of it here as well. 

Tags: omegaverse (implied!pack-style), off-screen sex, 

Pairings: Rufus/Turks, Tseng/Rufus, Reno/Rufus, mentioned!Rude/Rufus

“Tseng,” Rufus says, reaching out from where he is laying on the couch to gently flick at the Turk’s hair. Anyone else and they would likely be dead already. Or at least with a broken arm. Only Rufus can get away with this level of annoying the beta. “Why are you still reading reports?”

It’s late. Not that that fact bothers either of them. They have both stayed up much later to ensure their goals achieved.

But this night Rufus has that itch under his skin that is the hallmark of his designation. Suppressants help but not even Shinra’s highest quality can completely remove the craving that is a heat.

“What would you suggest I do otherwise?” Tseng asks, glancing to Rufus from the papers he is reading.

Really it is a testament to Tseng’s loyalty and professionalism that a raised eyebrow is all Rufus gets despite how he is sprawled. The white silk nightgown he is wearing open around his legs. The air conditioning of the apartment cool on his bare skin.

An alpha wouldn’t resist such a blatant invitation from an omega. But Tseng is not an alpha – it is why Rufus’ father allows him such access to his son even in such a delicate time of the year for all he doesn’t really give a shit about Rufus or his comforts.

“What would you have me do instead?” Tseng asks. His voice even and border-lining on bored.

Kill my father for me.

Rufus doesn’t say it. Sure they will be looping the footage later anyway. And the Turks now have thrown their lot in with him. But it is too early in the game for such a strong play. No matter how much Rufus wishes it were that simple.

“Entertain me,” Rufus says instead. “It is so lonely here. Not allowed out other than to be paraded around an event.”

Rufus goes to bat at Tseng’s hair again only to have his hand caught. Tseng gives Rufus a warning look but is holding the wrist right under his nose. Taking in Rufus’ scent for all a Beta can.

“And what would you have me do about it?”

“Well considering you will not allow me out to find someone to help fill the gap I am currently missing in my life you will just have to step up and do it yourself.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Tseng asks, his face now leaning over Rufus’. His eyes clearly watching Rufus’ lips.

“You’re a clever man, I’m sure you can figure it out,” Rufus says.

There’s a moment where Rufus thinks Tseng might draw away like he often does when they play this game. And Rufus will call him a tease and an asshole and Tseng will roll his eyes at him before returning to his reports and Rufus will tell himself that it is because of his father and once they kill the bastard they might actually acknowledge this thing they’ve been dancing around for years now.

And then Tseng leans down to kiss him.

The kiss is full of promise. And maybe it is supposed to be a taste of things to come when Rufus’ father is out of the way. But Tseng has known Rufus for long enough to know he will never stop at just a taste of something he wants. So really he shouldn’t be surprised when Rufus deepens the kiss. Nor when he starts working on undoing the Turks’ tie and shirt and dragging the beta to his room because he they aren’t doing this on the couch their first time for all Rufus isn’t the sentimental type.  

And anyone who says a beta cannot satisfy an omega like an alpha can has clearly never met Tseng. Not that Rufus is going to let any other omega find that out. Because Tseng is his and he is Tseng’s and together they are going to bring in a new age of Shinra, starting with Rufus’ father removal from the President’s seat.

Right now the victory is post-sex bliss and that omegan itch not driving Rufus’ insane for at least 10 minutes of his heat.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” Rufus asks because what other bedroom talk do they have?

“If I told you would judge me,” Tseng says. Unusually honest for a Turk.

But Rufus has earned that honesty from them in exchange for his own.

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

“Am I interrupting something?” Tseng asks, standing in the doorway to Rufus’ bedroom in the apartment-turned-prison.

Reno at least looks slightly chastised for being found naked in the Vice President’s bed. He should be grateful nobody but his fellow Turks bother to visit Rufus at his own home or else Reno might have found himself into a predicament he can’t talk or fight his way out of for once in his life.

Rufus has no such shame, making no move towards covering himself up and if anything seeming to stretch further across the bed in his post-sex state.

“Well, seeing as I’m not allowed out I decided to order in tonight instead,” the Vice President of Shinra says, reaching out with one of his legs to rub against Reno’s.

Somehow it seems to break Reno from the limited shame he does have. The red-haired beta breaking out in a grin.

“He’s a real handful isn’t he boss?” Reno asks, his hand running up Rufus’ leg until he finds where the wet of Rufus’ slick has trailed down to.

“He is,” Tseng agrees if only because it makes Rufus glare.

There’s a moment of silence. Enough for Reno to apparently get bored.

“Right, well I’m going out for a smoke,” Reno says, getting out of the bed. “Want one?”

“I’m fine,” Rufus says. He smokes socially – Tseng has seen him with cigarettes and cigars at the social gatherings his father orders him out of the apartment for, but there are never cigarettes in any of the orders for the apartment.

“Suit yourself,” Reno says with a shrug. He gives Tseng a nod on his way past into the main part of the apartment. The sound of the sliding door to the balcony opening and closing fills the silence a minute later.

“Am I next going to find Rude in your bed?” Tseng asks. If this is going to become a regular thing they are going to have to become even more careful in looping the footage. Only so many glitches can be hidden by technical error before Shirna Senior orders new cameras installed and they do have to plot the alpha’s fall as well.

“Who says I haven’t already invited him in?” Rufus asks, looking smug and content. It’s a good look on him and Tseng does hope he will get to see it even more once Rufus is sitting on the throne of the Shinra Company. “Are you jealous Tseng?”

“No.” He honestly isn’t. He had known what Rufus was like even before they decided to join sides – a promiscuous omega even as a teen. His father had once said the one good thing about Rufus’ betrayal and house arrest is that he no longer had to worry about any bastard grandchildren running around. “I’m a beta remember.”

Rufus snorts.

“Don’t hide behind your designation. It’s not professional.”

“Can you really claim professionalism right now?” Tseng asks as he walks over to the bed. They had long past the point of that. The fact Rufus was apparently fucking them all not even their biggest break from it.

“What am I supposed to do? I am an omega after all,” Rufus says. Despite them both knowing it’s complete shit – Rufus is no more or less sex-addicted than his alpha father. At least Rufus has enough sense to remember birth control and not leaving a trail of illegitimate children all unfortunately inheriting their sire’s drive for power.  

“Now who is hiding behind their designation?” Tseng asks. “Omegas are the centers of packs. You should be careful not to ruin your heart before you find yours.”

“I already have a pack,” Rufus says, reaching out to draw Tseng into him. Not that Tseng is fighting the silent order. Nor does he deny Rufus the kiss he clearly wants. “Are who says I even have a heart to ruin?”

Tseng doesn’t even bother to answer the question.

A little later Reno comes in with the smart mouth question about interrupting, only to then call Tseng an ass for not calling him back if Rufus wanted a second round.

Rufus looks entirely too smug about it all.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

dearest comfy <3 what if Triss was a blacksmith AND Eskel was a blacksmith??? What then?? Enemies to lovers maybe? <3

Ellie. I love you. I love this prompt. And I love Trisskel. This is a triple threat of wonderfulness. Hopefully the fic delivers 💖💖

Warnings: no violence, some hostile Triss (mostly internal), lmao is this considered idiot and exasperated to lovers? idk you tell me, its pretty chill tbh, unless you don’t like daggers. there's lots of daggers. 

_____________________

Triss was furious. 

She had spent her whole life stoking a furnace, shadowing her father, sweating, suffering burn after burn and later cut after searing cut as she learned to forge all sorts of weaponry. Now, this teddy bear-shaped child was setting up shop in her courtyard?! Unacceptable. Unbelievable! She’d staked a claim on her territory for market day early. So early she hadn’t even made her first blade. Her father still had her hammering out decorative discs and fastenings for armor. 

One of her customers had the audacity to call him ‘cute’ to her face.

He was no more than twenty-five, tall and stocky like most people expected of a blacksmith, but they claimed there was a softness about him. Triss remembered that softness well, before loss and responsibility really set in. What others saw as sweet, boyish charm she saw as a weakness. 

She sent her assistant to assess his booth, maybe flirt and ask some questions, and was even more annoyed when they came back. 

“He’s young but he’s not inexperienced. His blades are good. So is his uh… customer service.” 

Triss rolled her eyes, “What kind of weapons was he selling? I don’t care about his looks. I have breasts.”

Her assistant shrugged and described his table. 

That following week she put in double the hours at her workshop, put the extra flourish on every piece, perfected every detail until her arms ached and her head pounded. She often forgot to drink water, let alone eat, when she got worked up, so her assistant brought her meals. 

When the next market day came, she proudly displayed her new wares.

And if she took her hair out of the usual braids and unbuttoned her blouse a bit lower than last week, who would be brave enough to point it out?

This time the newcomer had the gaul to visit her booth. 

“Good morning, Miss Merigold,” he dipped in a bow of respect before she even turned around to greet him, straightening up and disarming her with a lopsided grin, “My apologies, I meant to introduce myself after last week’s market. But you were far more efficient at break-down than I.” 

She wouldn’t have called him cute by a long shot. He was downright handsome.

Then she remembered they were rivals. There would be no fraternizing with the enemy.  

It took her a moment to gather her wits before she responded, “Good morning. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

She knew. 

Of course she knew. But he was far better looking than she had assumed, his scars only adding to his alluring presence, and she needed to feel like she had the upper hand. 

His smile grew a bit sheepish, “Eskel of the Blue Mountains. I’m your new neighbor… sort of,” he offered his hand over her table and she took it, hoping her hesitation wasn’t too obvious. 

“Welcome. I hope the city is treating you well?” 

“Well enough,” he acquiesced, letting go of her hand after a moment, “To be truthful, I haven’t left my forge much at all. I’m still getting used to her. But you know how that goes.” 

Triss raised her eyebrows and plastered an over-polite smile on her face, “I must say I wouldn’t. I inherited my forge from my father. I learned with her. We get along quite well.” 

Eskel was called by someone from his booth as he made to speak. He waved at them to wait a moment and turned back to Triss with a wink, “Well if you have any relationship advice, let me know.”

Before she could think of a polite but not too friendly response, he was gone. 

She turned back to her assistant in a huff, “He’s infuriating.” 

“He’s dreamy.”

“Hush,” she snapped, pointing to her sketch pad, “Hand me that. Call for me if there’s a large sale or a problem.”

She sketched and planned half the day away. But when she realized how much the materials for her plans would cost she adjusted her cleavage and left her tent. Someone had to drive the hard bargain around here, and she knew her assistant was too kind. 

The next week she arrived with a beautiful set of delicate-looking throwing knives, a few different ornate daggers, and a sword fit for a king alongside her typical, practical items. However, she was seeing more than just her flowing hilt designs inlaid with etchings. 

Eskel seemed to have had a similar idea.

She wandered past his booth, pretending to buy fabric from the stall next to him, and fumed. It seemed Eskel had a sharper eye than she’d anticipated. He very clearly mimicked her setup and emphasized the smaller wares like she did. He even had the same sign in three different languages about customizations and bulk orders.

This had become all out war. 

When her sword sold that day she decided to finish off the dozen or so she had laying in wait for specific orders over the week. She even detailed a breastplate to match for three of them, guessing at the size in reference to the sword as best she could. As she worked she mulled over her new competition. His soft golden eyes that crinkled ever so slightly when he smiled were absolutely aggravating. At least that’s what she told herself. It was simply her competitive nature that had her fixating on this mountain of a man. 

She returned the next week with a spread so large she could barely fit it on her table.

Eskel had come back with daggers inlaid with precious stones of dazzling pale blue and sparkling greys and whites. Blue Mountains indeed.

Polite customers started mumbling comparisons to themselves while the brash ones outwardly used the other stall to barter a better price. Every time Eskel was mentioned Triss would bristle, hold back a snarl, and turn on every bit of innocent charm she had. 

She began leaving with a lighter cart and a challenging wink from her competition. Over the week she worked her fingers to the bone over fine details and getting the balance absolutely perfect. 

After months of competition, months of uncomfortable eye contact, she finally broke when he sold a matching helmet, breastplate, and dagger to one of her most loyal customers. 

“Eskel. We need to have a word,” she marched right up to his tent, hands tucked into her half apron at her waist. 

He smirked, “That all?”

She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest, “We can’t keep making the same things.”

“Pretty daggers and ceremonial armor? Why not?” he mimicked her, folding his massive arms over his own chest, leaning back against his table, making him just a little bit taller than Triss rather than the usual towering over her. 

She rolled her eyes and stepped a little closer, “We’ve both done well, or I’m assuming you have, but eventually all the nobility this side of the canal will have been sold to. We’ll have saturated the market and be left with an armory full of ornate weaponry with no one to buy it.”

“Preserving the market means one gets to keep said market.”

Triss nodded but Eskel seemed unimpressed. 

“And how would you suggest we settle who keeps it?” he raised an eyebrow at her and she just wanted to smack the smug look off his face. Or kiss it. She really wasn’t sure anymore. 

She scrambled for a moment, not having entirely thought this through, “A competition.”

He stood to full height and sighed, “What are the terms?”

“One dagger. Same price. Whoever sells first gets the market. The other has to branch out or move.”

Eskel nodded and held his hand out, “Agreed.”

Triss went to take his hand but he gripped her forearm, his whole hand covering much of her elbow. She did her best not to think about how strong his arm felt in her grasp, how when she squeezed she felt a gentle give before she hit muscle. 

He winked at her as he released his grasp and turned back to work, “See you next week Merigold.” 

Triss worked on a single dagger all week. 

She couldn’t get Eskel’s stupid cocky smile or his tanned arms out of her head. The way he looked down at her with that condescending smile enraged her. Her assistant claimed he looked more fond than condescending, but Triss only narrowed her eyes and shook her head. She’d been raised in the marketplace. She knew exactly how men viewed her. 

In the end, her dagger looked very fitting for a man like him. Broad, sturdy, a bit curved at the tip, and simply yet elegantly decorated. She cooled it in a liquid mixture her father had made and kept secret, giving the blade a finish similar to copper, but with all the strength of steel. 

If she noticed the coincidence she stubbornly ignored it. 

Eskel was already set up and waiting when she arrived at the market. She spared him only a curt nod while she set up her booth as if preparing for battle. 

He sauntered over to her before dawn had officially broken, blade in hand with what Triss might guess to be a nervous expression. 

“Good morning, Merigold,” he cleared his throat and set the dagger currently wrapped in cloth on the table between them, “What have you for our little competition?” 

Triss proudly pulled the dagger she had made from her case, handing it over by the hilt as she spoke, “Good morning, Eskel.”

He took the blade and hummed as he inspected it, whispering, “It’s beautiful...”

She wasn’t prepared for such a genuine compliment. Nor was she prepared for how much she loved hearing that word fall from his lips.

“Th-thank you.”

Eskel handed it back before unwrapping his.

Triss almost had to catch her breath. It was gorgeous, gracefully curved, a turquoise stone grip bordered by an ornate handguard. The part that really got her though was the engraving on the blade. She stepped out and around the table to catch more of the sunlight to see what it was and gasped. Little jasmine flowers were etched into the flat of the blade. 

She looked up at him in awe, “Why jasmine?”

He gave her a crooked smile, rubbing the back of his neck, “You, ahm- your perfume. It is jasmine right?” 

She tilted her head and really looked at him since the first time she met him, “You noticed my perfume?”

“It’s nice,” he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his leather apron pockets. 

Triss thought about all the winks and the ‘good mornings’ and compliments. She’d thought they were just to get her buttered up, but maybe she’d been a little harsher than she needed to.

“It’s stunning,” she breathed, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, not wanting to pull away from his warmth when she had to. 

They were interrupted by her assistant and set a price quickly before scurrying back to their tents. 

All day they would glance toward the other’s booth, but Triss was no longer checking his table. She was looking for him. His kind smile and boisterous laugh. His easy charm and especially his humility under pressure. 

All day she struggled with the realization that she was just a little bit in love with her competition. 

Nearing sundown she told her assistant to begin cleaning up and grabbed her coin purse before marching over to his stand once again. 

“Did you sell it?” Eskel looked disappointed and she was surprised to be glad to tell him no. 

“I have two things to say and I will only say them once, so listen carefully. I realize I’ve been unduly cold to you and I want to apologize. You’ve proven that you’re not only a skilled craftsman but seem to be a good man as well and you don’t deserve it. “

“Apology accepted,” Eskel grinned, leaning back on his table as he waited for her next item.

“Thank you. Now, I’d like to buy the dagger. The one with the jasmines.”

Eskel frowned, “You- you’re forfeiting?”

Triss bit her lip and forced herself to look him in his honey gold eyes, “Yes. Though I hope we can both agree to stay where we are? I think I might miss you if you leave.”

He grinned and pushed off the table, standing just inches from Triss now that he was upright. His hand hesitantly brushed a stray curl out of her eyes as he leaned closer, hesitating to give her time to leave if she wanted, before he brushed his lips against hers. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as they kissed. His hands covered her back, pressing her to him and nearly lifting her off her feet. 

When they parted they were gasping for breath they both wished they didn't need.

“What about a trade and a truce?” 

Triss nodded, standing up on her tiptoes to plant another kiss on his lips, “And dinner.”

Eskel chuckled, “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.” 

[touyasthembo]

Hide, go and seek.

Keigo Takami/Fem!Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Oral (reader receiving), some slight dubcon(?), branding, knifeplay (technically?), creampie, breeding kink, degradation, praise, kind of mean!keigo, keigo fucks himself stupid, overstimulation, lil bit of predator/prey, one (1) spank, fearplay, slight dumbification, slight possessiveness, lil bit of bloodplay, some sweetness mixed in.

Notes: My first ever piece of smut that I’ve posted! Hope you guys enjoy, lots more on the way.

🌒🌒🌒

Keigo’s week has been nothing but work on top of work on top of work, hellacious and taxing, he’s rapidly coming towards his wit’s end, feeling like he’s about to snap at any given moment. You are his only reprieve, the only good in his life. He loves you so very much. Which is why he feels guilty for wanting to take it all out on you.

You, his sweet little girlfriend. You guys had been experimental in the bedroom, plenty times, certainly. He’d often made use of his unholy amounts of stamina and railed you well into the morning until you were crying, shaking, on the verge of passing out, he’d marked you up, spanked you, done all sorts of things.

Lately, his mind has been going to, well, darker places, admittedly. Some little feral avian part in his brain delights in the idea of “hunting” you down and claiming you, biting you and bruising you up in colors of his name, sinking his claws that itch to grab you into your flesh until you’re lined with the pretty little crescent shaped markings that are his everywhere. 

Maybe digging the tip of a sharpened feather into your skin, watching the blood ooze out so he can lap it up, taste the coppery flavor of you on his tongue.

The strangest thing is, he isn’t even remotely close to a rut. He chalks it off to being overworked and stressed out, wanting a physical way to get rid of all of the negative emotions brewing inside of him.

His patrol is almost over, moon looming over the dark city, bright and beautiful as he pulls out his phone, hands shaking a bit with the motion, opening up the messages and immediately tapping on your name.

keigo baby💘 : turn off all of the lights in the apartment and hide.

Little dove🕊: what? why? is something going on I should know about?

keigo baby💘 : i’m not asking.

When your eyes rove over the texts, you feel your heart pound in your chest, thunderously loud in your ears as you immediately do as you’re told, almost tripping over your own feet every couple of seconds as you do, until your entire apartment is drenched in darkness and you’re standing in the middle of the living room, mind desperately trying to figure out where to hide.

One of the curses of having such an open and modern apartment is that there aren’t many places you can think of. You realize your only safe bet is in your closet, under the pile of clothes. You run inside, trying to close the door behind you as silently as possible, before burrowing under the pile of clean yet-to-be folded clothes, holding your breath when you hear the sliding door that goes out to the balcony slowly open, followed by the sound of slow methodical bootsteps. 

Surely, you reason, that’s Keigo? Then why had he…?

You hear doors in the apartment open, shut, then more bootsteps going further away, then coming closer, you realize he’s systematically going through every single possible hiding space. You’re going to be found in no time. The question is, what happens next?

You hear your shared room’s door slowly creak open, followed by heavy footfalls, the sounds of him rustling through things, opening the other smaller closet, looking under the bed, under the covers, until the footsteps come right up outside your door. You feel your heart leap into your chest, trying to breathe as lightly as you can without passing out.

He yanks the door open without much grace, the sound it makes causing you to yelp, muffled under the clothes pile. You feel his hands reach in and pull you out, and when you look up at him you’re left slightly mortified, just the slightest bit of fear coursing through you.

The only thing illuminated in the dark is his eyes, yellow sharp and piercing, pupils fat as he looks down at you, his prey, his prize. They look wild, bordering on unhinged as he grins widely at you in satisfaction, pearly white teeth with sharp canines glinting in the low light the moon offers, slightly obscured through the window.

“Got you,” He rasps, voice impossibly deep as you look up at him in fear, wonderment, a strange sort of dark aura surrounding him and encapsulating you as well as you sit on your knees in front of him.

“K-Keigo, what’s going on?” You squeak, swallowing nervously as he continues to stare you down with his intense, intimidating yellow glare, looking so very pleased with himself at his catch.

“That’s not important right now, sweetheart, just let me do what I need to do, okay?” He murmurs, voice deceptively saccharine sweet, dripping with malice as he manhandles you up, then tosses you on the softness of your bed, illuminating you in the whitish blue of the moonlight pouring through your uncovered window.

He coos at your terrified expression, gloved hand reaching up and petting your cheek sweetly, other unoccupied hand reaching up to your little nightshirt, fingers curling around the bottom of it as he tugs, until you’re left in just your bra. 

You’d be lying if you said whatever’s gotten into him isn’t making you incredibly aroused, feeling yourself start to get wet under his predatory gaze, which roves over your nearly uncovered chest.

“Keigo! Slow down, and tell me what’s- f-fuck,” You moan, as he abruptly pulls down the cup of your pretty little baby blue bra, immediately latching onto one of your newly exposed nipples and sucking harshly, tongue lapping at the sensitive bud as his other hand pinches the other one, appreciatively squeezing the fat of your tit as he does, enjoying the give it has in his palms. 

You’re whimpering now, squeezing your legs together in search of friction while he hums softly, in between ravenous sucks and licks, alternating between both tits until they’re both wet and sticky with his saliva, his eyes never leaving yours, still with that same unhinged, borderline eerie gaze.

“Sensitive,” You mewl when he pinches a little too hard. He laughs in response to your pathetic little plea, pinching even harder and biting down on the one that he’s currently sucking on. You yelp, hips bucking into his. 

His other hand shoots down, pinning your hips to the bed as his gaze turns dark, toeing the line of furious.

“You’ll take what I give you and nothing more, am I fucking clear?” He hisses, baring his teeth at you, fingers digging in harshly when you don’t answer quickly enough, yelping out a “yes, I’m sorry!” in response that he seems to approve of, returning back to his previous task of torturing your poor chest.

When he gets bored of doing that, he shoves your flimsy little blue shorts down, tossing them somewhere away as he harshly pries your legs apart, gazing openly down at your wet, panty clad cunt lecherously. 

“You got your poor dumb little pussy so fucking wet over me playing with your tits, huh, little slut?” He hisses appreciatively as he thumbs your clit, making you jerk with the suddenness of it, feeling so sensitive from the slight contact, he takes the hand he’d just been teasing you with, pulling his leather glove off with his teeth and bringing it back, bare, against your twitching pussy.

His thumb rubs in teasing little circles through your pale blue panties, not going nearly fast enough to get you to the edge, but it still makes you ache, still makes goosebumps rise all over your sensitive body, nipples hard and neglected in the cool night air as he laughs derisively at your little needy display.

“‘M not a slut, Keigo,” You whine, fighting the urge to grind back into his touch, lest he reprimand you again. Your actions say otherwise, you know, your face heats at how you’re acting, embarrassed with how desperate you are for him to touch you. You’d be lying if you said his words weren’t turning you on even more, even if they do sting a little.

“Oh, but you are, my pretty little slut,” He purrs, using the usually degrading name as a sort of backhanded praise, it leaves you reeling every time he says it, in conjunction with his thumb swirling around your little throbbing clit. 

You’re soaking through the soft cotton of your panties, he eyes the wet spot with a rapt sort of hunger, as he licks his lips, roughly yanking the fabric down your legs, until it’s hanging off your foot, which is dangling off the bed. 

“Oh, fuck,” He says airily, sounding a bit wrecked himself as he sees firsthand how drenched you’ve gotten just from him just barely touching you, his words. You squirm, embarrassed by his entranced gaze on your dripping pussy, how he’s just staring at you without touching you.

He lunges forward, immediately targeting your poor, oversensitive clit, sucking and licking, lapping you up like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the honor of tasting, the noises of him feasting on you nothing short of obscene, wet, slick sounding, you let out a high keen.

The broad of his tongue laps through your wet puffy folds, the taste of your slick on his tongue only making him feel more aroused, head getting even hazier with every little whimper and mewl he makes you let out, how messy you are, all for him.

“Fucking messy, god, you’re so wet,” He moans into you, the vibrations of his voice against you making you buck into his face, the feeling of his stubble on your inner thighs ticklish, only adding to the overstimulation he’s rapidly hurtling you towards. 

You’re dripping down his fucking chin, he realizes with a snarl, amplifying his efforts to make you cum, wanting nothing more than to hear you cry out his name repeatedly from the intensity alone, to announce to the world that he’s the only one that can make you feel this good, make you cum this hard. Nobody else would ever, could never compare.

Your eyes are tearing up as you hiccup, hands fisting in his unruly golden hair as you beg for him to slow down, speed up, babbling nonsense at this point as he devours you.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Gonna cream on my tongue, little dove?” He goads, parting from you with a wet translucent string of both your arousal and his saliva, licking it up without so much as a second thought as he admires how wrecked you are, unshed tears glittering in your eyes.

“Yes, please, please, let me cum, let me- ghkk,” You garble as he shoves his long thick fingers in your mouth, telling you firmly to suck, which you immediately obey. 

Hollowing out your cheeks as your eyes flutter shut, the combination of his fingers fucking into your mouth as you lick and suck around his invading digits, his tongue fucking into your pussy, flitting up to pulse around your clit, sends you hurtling over the edge as you cum, hard, with a muffled wail.

He parts from your still clenching cunt, panting heavily as the bottom half of his face drips with your release, his tongue lapping up as much as it can, before he crawls up the length of your body to slam his lips against yours, tongue immediately invading your mouth and twining with yours, sharing the taste of your arousal with you.

You moan weakly into his mouth, the force of your orgasm making you see little stars behind your closed eyelids, he responds with soft little noises, grumbling in the back of his throat. In hindsight, you’re incredibly foolish for thinking that was the end of it, that he’d gotten what he wanted and was completely satisfied.

When he parts from you with a little wet smooch, far too sweet considering how aggressive he’d been, your heavy lidded eyes open to the sight of his amber eyes, narrowed now into little slits as he stares you down once more, you realize you’re not entirely out of the woods yet.

He summons a long crimson feather to his left hand, twirling it between his fingers as he watches your face for every little microexpression. His cock twitches in his pants when he sees the slightest hint of fear enter your pupils.

“You always told me my feathers are so pretty, wanna put that to the test, little love? Want me to mark you up nice and good, gorgeous, all for me?” He hums, tickling under your chin with the soft plumed crimson end of it, tilting his head at you. He already knows what you’re thinking, truly he doesn’t even need to ask.

You gulp, he grins, one large strong hand flipping you over onto your tummy, gripping your wrists together as he hums a little song in his throat, practically purring at the sight of your ass, bare in the moonlight in front of him. 

He winds a long arm back, smacking it harshly just to see it jiggle, releasing a low groan of approval when it does, the sting of it making you grind back against his leg that’s snuck its way in between your slicked thighs. 

He lets you, but moves it back just the slightest bit so that the pressure wouldn’t be enough for you to cum again.

When you feel the sharp poke of his feather against the tender skin of your ass, you whimper, muffled by the bedsheets underneath you, stiffening in anticipation. He puts more pressure, you feel your skin start to give, toes curling as you realize he truly does intend to cut you with the sharp end of his feather.

The pain is low, throbbing, when he finishes each little section of whatever it is he’s cutting into your skin, you feel blood bead at the surface of your skin, dripping down the side of your throbbing cheek, to your mortification he leans down and laps it up before it can stain your sheets, humming at the taste in his mouth.

It’s another couple of seconds until he’s done, admiring his handiwork as you shake and writhe underneath him, your ass throbbing with a dull sort of ache as he finally relinquishes your wrists, letting you stand back up. He drags you over to the mirror, then turns you around.

Across your left ass cheek, is his name, written in his handwriting, branded into your skin. Loftily, you wonder if it’ll scar, wobbling a little, still a bit dizzy from your previous orgasm.

“So pretty,” He praises, admiring the raised lines that spell out ‘K E I G O’ across the globe of your ass. He’d made it very compact, neat, thankfully, something that could be hidden, but he’d always know it was there, that he’d been the one to mark you. 

He comes in closer behind you, until you feel the hard still clothed bulge of his cock grinding against your freshly branded ass, murmuring appreciative little sweet nothings in your ear, followed by sweet little kisses, nibbles and licks to any exposed skin he can find, targeting your neck and ear specifically.

“Now that I’m finished with that, it would be a shame to leave my cock this hard and unattended to, don’t you think?” He cooes, voice like liquid velvet to your foggy brain, sucking little marks into the tender skin of your neck as he slowly walks the two of you back to your bed, arm wrapped protectively around your waist.

He coaxes you onto the bed with sweet lilting words, promising he’s gonna make the pain all worth it, all better as soon as you take care of him, your brain greedily lapping up his words, which are interspersed with praise.

“You’re so good for me, my little dove, so obedient,” He purrs, once again maneuvering you with rough hands until you’re once again on your stomach on your shared bed. You can hear the metal clinks of him undoing his belt, fabric shifting followed by a low groan as you hear the unmistakable sounds of him working his cock, feeling his eyes burn into the brand he’d made on you.

You feel his thick tip press against your soaked little hole, his hands on your hips, squeezing at your flesh appreciatively, as he nudges your entrance, not thrusting in yet. You attempt to grind back, but the strength of his grip on your hips immediately halts the action before it can even start.

You’re sweating, your thighs are quivering in anticipation, heart pounding in your chest as you make little desperate sounds, hoping that will be enough for him. He seems to be in a particular mood tonight, however, his silence and lack of action is deafening, only serving to make you more desperate for his cock, for praise, degradation, anything, you just needed him. 

You didn’t care if your ass stung or your body felt a bit boneless, or if your breath is coming in staccato little pants, you just want the familiar stretch, heat of him inside of you, fucking into you until you feel whole again. Fucking you until your mind goes dumb with pleasure and you’re drooling into the bedding below you, sobbing his name.

“Please, Keigo, wan’ your fat cock to stretch me out, ruin me, fuck me stupid, I love it so much, please,” You slur, turning your head to the side, so your words aren’t muffled by your bedsheets, desperate fat wet tears starting to run down your face as you hiccup.

He coos with faux sympathy, leaning down to catch one on his tongue, the wet taste of salt on his tongue. 

“Yeah? You want this cock? This cock’s the only one that can stretch you out so good, leave you sore for days, huh little dove?” He murmurs, the faux sympathy entering his voice too as he rocks himself against your dripping little cunt, still rubbing the head against your twitching hole. He slaps it against your clit for good measure, relishing in the little squeak he gets in response.

You nod rapidly, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, eyes glittering with more unshed tears. He looks positively elated at the state you’re in, smirking smugly down at you as his sharp avian eyes gaze all around your teary eyed, warm little face, cheek slightly squished by the bed underneath you. 

“When you look this fucked out when I’ve only made you cum once, how can I deny?” He whispers, a slow sadistic grin rising on his face as he suddenly lurches forward, shoving the entirety of his thick cock inside of your wet hole all at once.

You squeal at the sudden intrusion, writhing under him as he presses all of his body weight against you, intending to fuck you into the bed with it. He’s so thick inside of you, stretching you out, bordering on painful even though you’ve taken him so many times now, you can feel him throb at the little pants and gasps that escape your mouth. 

“Fuck! Nngh, Kei-go, feels so good inside,” You sob, clawing at the sheets beneath you, the pain subsiding into pleasure as he very graciously lets your walls adjust to his thickness, the length of him, a little, anyways, before he completely starts ruining you.

“Mm, know it does, fuck you’re so tight, your pussy was made for me, you know,” He grunts, mouth open as he pants, a bit like a dog at the feeling of your tight wet walls squeezing his cock, nearly a vice grip. 

Sweat rolls down his temple as he fights the urge to start pounding into you, he’d already pushed it by shoving it all in at once, he didn’t actually want to cause you any more pain than strictly necessary, by his standards. Besides, you’d been so good for him, only disobeying him once, he deemed the brand on your ass a fitting punishment. 

When he feels you trying to rock back against him, goad him into fucking you, he laughs, mocking and deceptively sweet in your ear as he lifts up your head by your neck, long fingers winding around it.

“So desperate for me to make you my little cocksleeve, huh, angel?”

“Don’t test your luck, you’ll get fucked when I’m good and ready, so be patient, ok? Just wanna enjoy your tight little cunt clenching around me.” You don’t miss the threat in his words, wondering exactly what the next step up from a literal brand would be. 

But you listen, obedient, enjoying the sensation of his lips pressing against your sweaty face, tongue lapping up the salt he finds on your warm cheek, before moving down to your neck and suckling against the skin he finds there. 

He noses against it, the tenderness mixed with how harshly he’s been marking you swirling through your head in an intoxicating mix of love and lust you feel for him. Suddenly, you find yourself itching for a kiss.

“Kei, kiss please,” You beg, reduced to barely coherent sentences as you turn your face to look back at his, pleadingly, eyes wide and glassy, still full of unshed tears. 

How desperate you look, your eyes longingly begging him, your shaky little voice asking him for something so sweet makes his heart ache, through all the haze, the need to completely dominate you and make you his, over, and over, it makes him feel soft inside, his expression cracking from intimidating, to something softer, love-struck.

He obliges, leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth with slow, languid kisses, despite all of the fervor and heat he puts into them, you can feel he’s telling you how much he loves you, how grateful he is for you.

The room is filled with the wet sounds of you kissing, him grinding his cock against your sopping folds and against your eager hole as he slowly withdraws, before slamming into you harshly once more.

The once slow, sensual kisses turn fervid, as he bites and nibbles at your lips, tongue completely plundering your mouth as he loses himself to his base instincts to dominate, breed once more. 

His pace is nothing short of punishing, swollen cockhead pounding against the spot deep inside of you that makes you see stars, your pussy dripping copious amounts of your slick, so much so that it pools at the bottom of the sheets, down his heavy balls that are rapidly slapping against the sensitive newly carved skin of your ass.

The arm that isn’t wrapped around your waist, keeping you upright in a position so that he can kiss you, reaches down and rubs against your clit, greedily swallowing the muffled moans and mewls you make in his mouth as he continues ravaging you, feeling him throbbing inside of you, hearing the wet sounds you’re making around his cock, wet clicks and sloshes as he grunts and snarls into your messy kiss.

With every pass of the pads of his fingers over your oversensitive clit, pleasure rushes through you, up your spine and down into your toes, that curl with the overwhelming feeling, his expert fingers matching the punishing pace of his thrusts.

“Keigo-oh-oh,” You moan as he bounces you atop his cock, the motion making your words elongate, pleasure making your eyes roll back into your head, mouth flopped open as you drool, until he guides your head back to his with the strong grip of his hand, kissing you once more as the muffled sounds of your moans and his grunts fill the room, followed by the rapid sound of skin on skin as he continues fucking into your drenched pussy.

His wings span out behind him, crimson and beautiful in the dark, some of the feathers ruffling with the force of his oncoming orgasm, he can feel it, practically able to taste the ecstasy that’s going to overload his senses when he finally does, feeling you clench around his hard, throbbing length. 

He knows you’re close too. He can feel you tightening around him, feel the vibrations of your increasing moans against his lips as he kisses you, over and over, fingers rubbing tight quick little circles over your sensitive throbbing clit until he feels you pulse around him, a high little keen escaping you as you part for air, gasping and releasing little sobbing heaves of breath with the force of your orgasm, immediately sending him over the edge with you.

With a loud, drawn out moan of pleasure, he slumps against you, all but crushing you underneath his weight as his cock spurts his hot, thick cum inside your battered walls, feeling you pulse weakly around him in response, moaning out yourself in the relief the warmth offers you, his wings arching outward, spanning out to their full length as he shivers and whines.

He’s never cum this much before, still releasing soft little moans as he ruts inside of you, cock still hard and twitching, filling you to the brim with his warm sticky white cream, mumbling incoherently something about “making sure it takes” as he does.

“G’nna breed you, gonna knock you up, fill you with my brood, make sure you’re mine forever,” He slurs, face flushed red and yellow eyes unfocused, weakly moaning with every little rut against your backside, sliding back in forth in your pussy, eyes rolling back into his skull as he continues on babbling, feeling him get harder inside of your sore little pussy with every word. 

“Gotta cum inside you again ‘n again, gotta breed you, fuuuck,” He groans, speed increasing inside you as he gets desperate once more just from the little fantasies playing out in his head. 

You whimper with overstimulation, as the head of his cock once more batters against your sweet spot, the wet squishy sounds it makes as it thrusts in and out even more obscene with the added cum inside of you acting as lube, dripping out of you and making a little puddle on the bed beneath you.

He’s growling now, sinking his sharp teeth into your shoulder, between the junction of your neck, biting down hard as he pounds into you once more as you writhe and mewl beneath him, his long thick fingers once more rubbing against your abused oversensitive clit.

“Take it, god, gonna cum, gonna breed your little cunt!” He snarls as he cums once more, pressed up against the plush thick ring of your cervix, shooting more ropes of his warm milky white seed into your fertile little womb as he pants, shaking with rare overexertion, some of his feathers shooting off somewhere into the room with the force of it. 

Something about the idea of him breeding you seems to have taken everything out of him, you think as he watches his cum seep out of your tender little hole, fucking it back in with his long, thick fingers, then he reaches out for you, tugging you against him so he’s spooning you.

He peppers you with kisses, weakly murmuring praise, telling you how good you’d been for him, how proud he was of you, how gorgeous you looked covered in sweat with his cum dripping out of your sweet little pussy, all for him, how pretty you’d look swollen with his brood, tummy round and stretched.

“I’d take such good care of you, promise. God you’re so gorgeous, I love you,” He moans, shaky arms wrapped around you, still immersed in his little fantasy, feeling him hard against your back once more, knowing with relief he’s still too weak from his last orgasm to do anything yet. 

You’d at the very least get a couple hours of rest before he’d continue on, insatiable with the need to claim you over and over until the first rays of morning light filtered through your window.

[peterrparrkerr]

Zombie apocalypse au - read on ao3

*-*

Peter doesn't remember life before the virus. He was only five when everyone got sick.

He's seventeen now, and he's never set foot outside of the city. Well, outside of the tower.

There's a curfew -has been since the virus. Those who go into the city for supplies or to work the garden and tend to the livestock have to be inside by five every day.

Peter doesn't have a green thumb, nore does he have a way with animals. And he's got two left hands when it comes to weaponry. So he stays in the tower.

The tower used to be Stark Industries. When the outbreak hit New York, people locked themselves inside, tried to wait it out.

Peter had been with his aunt. She tells him they'd gone to get ice cream and bring some back to his parents.

Aunt May had ran into the closest building -Stark Industries- and had hidden in the basement with Peter. He doesn't remember.

Tony Stark -the owner of Stark Industries- had offered his penthouse to the few who had taken refuge in his building.

After a week, many of the workers left, off to find their families. They never came back.

A month passed, and scouts confirmed the virus had taken over the whole city. Stark tower was the only building the monsters couldn't get to.

So, it became home. Peter grew up running up and down the industrial hallways, playing with the golden retriever one of the hideaways had.

He didnt know anything different. Everyone took care of him, raised him. He was the only kid in the tower.

He might even be the youngest living being in all of New York at this point.

His favorite people to visit and hang out with were Steve and Bucky. They had been walking their new puppy Goldie when the world ended.

They had been married for ten years before. They celebrated their twenty year anniversary a couple years back. Goldie was almost eleven, and didn't like playing as much with Peter -though she still liked to sit with him in the living room when he tinkered with old tech.

Natasha and Clint worked on the ground, so Peter didn't see them much. They could fight a whole swarm of monsters and not get bit. They were the best.

Bruce and Aunt May tended to the garden under their watchful eye. Steve, Bucky and Sam took care of the livestock.

Its strange. The zombies leave animals alone. They only go after people.

Tony, Bucky and Clint go scouting a lot. They run the city, looking for any survivors, or anything the tower could use.

The tower is self-sufficient thanks to Tony's genius. He'd been working on making the entire tower self-sustaining even before the outbreak.

He's only managed to get the top three floors. The rest of the tower has no electricity or running water. That's fine though. Theres not many of them left, and three floors is plenty of space.

The living area is the penthouse. They eat, sleep and breathe there. The second floor down holds all of Tony's old tech, and projects in the works. The third floor down is the weapons and medicine floor.

Peter is on the second floor when the scouting party comes back. He only knows this because of the AI Tony created tells all three floors when people come or go.

Peter sets down his tools and rushes for the staircase. He sails down them and opens the door bodily, nearly falling flat on his face.

"You're back," Peter called, running down the short hallway to the ammunition room. Clint, Bucky and Tony are all unloading their haul and their weapons.

Clint's weapon of choice is a bow and arrow, as well as a long range rifle -he's the eyes, always taking out zombies before they get close enough to spot them.

Bucky is unloading his knives and pistols. Hes best at close combat.

Peter jumps onto the table, watching as Tony checks the magazine of his .9mm, then settle it back into the holster on his thigh.

"How was it," Peter asked, eyeing the two duffle bags on the table, surrounded by magazine clips and disassembled weaponry.

"We made it all the way to the hospital this time," Bucky grinned. Peter's eyes widened. They don't get to the hospital that often, since its clear on the other side of the city, and usually swarming with zombies.

They don't need to go on medical runs much anyway, but Tony likes to keep stocked in case.

"And we hit the motherload," Clint grinned, unzipping one of the bags and revealing canned food from vegetables to soup, the labels all sun bleached and color faded.

"Whoa." Peter reached in, pulling out an old Cambells can, looking at the faded red and white label. He can barely make out the words. "Tomato soup!"

"Thats not all," Bucky hummed. Peter looked up just as Bucky reached into his back pocket.

Peter sets the can down and his eyes widen when Bucky pulls out a deck of cards.

"No way!" Peter leaps off the table, snatching the cards.

"Its a full deck," Bucky grins proudly. Their current deck was a mix of two different cards, and cardboard and plastic pieces they'd drawn the suits and numbers on.

It made it hard to shuffle, and they all knew the suit and number of the makeshift cards. It made for a boring game.

Clint laughed and ruffled Peter's curls before grabbing the food and heading for the penthouse to restock their cupboards.

"Thanks, Bucky," Peter grinned, pulling the cards out of the brand new -but still sun faded- case. He's never seen cards this new before.

"Dont thank me, Tony's the one who spotted them," Bucky said, giving Peter a knowing grin before grabbing the medicine and heading for the medical wing.

Peter blushed, then turned to Tony -who wasn't there. He scowled and looked around in confusion. He didnt notice him leaving.

Peter quickly puts the cards back in the protective box and drops them into his cargo shorts pocket before running out of the room.

After raids, Tony usually likes to spend time with his old tech -projects he'll never be able to complete, in a workshop he'll probably never get rid of.

He finds Tony at one of the work benches, fiddling with something Peter -to this day- can't figure out what it is.

"Hey," Peter said, walking over to him and sitting down on the stool at the end of the bench. Tony glances up and gives a small smile.

"Thanks for the cards," Peter continued, picking at his nails and looking down at his lap. "Bucky said you got them for me."

"You're welcome, kid," Tony hummed, eyes focused on a project he'll never finish. Peter thinks it makes Tony feel better. Makes him feel like he's back to before the virus, when he was making things all the time and helping people.

All he's got now are old robots that break down more often than they run, and dust over most of the place he used to call home.

All Tony has is JARVIS and the others, but Peter sometimes gets the feeling that that sometimes isn't enough for Tony.

The two sit in silence for a while, Tony hard at work, and Peter deep in thought.

"Hey Tony?"

Tony hums.

"Whats it like dating?" Peter says it fast, worried he'll lose his nerve and chicken out. Tony stops his fiddling and looks over, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you asking for dating advice?" Tony asked. Peter can't meat his eyes when he nods and Tony sets his tools down. "Who's the lucky person you're crushing on? Anyone I know?"

"You know everyone I do, Tony," Peter huffs. Tony crosses his arms and smirks, amused. Peter hunches his shoulders.

"Who is it?" Tony asks.

Peter takes a deep breath. He's gotta just come right out and say it. If he doesn't, he'll never do it and then it'll be too late.

"You," he breathes. Its quiet. Peter's hands sweat. This was a bad idea.

"Pete," Tony sighs. Peter manages to look up. Tony looks pained, regretful. Its not the look Peter wanted to see. "I'm too old for you."

"So?" Peter finds himself asking.

"So, you should be dating people your own age."

"Do you know of any other seventeen year olds running around?" Peter asked, waving his hand around dejectedly.

"There's always a chance-"

"Please don't," Peter interrupts. "Please? Its been twelve years. No ones come looking for us, you haven't found anyone during your raids. Its just us."

Tony opens his mouth to speak, but Peter's on a roll now, and he can't stop even if he wanted to.

"And don't say to wait. I've been waiting. For all we know we're the last people on earth not a zombie, and I want- I want to have my first kiss before I'm forty."

"Peter-"

"I want to experience things," Peter continues, steamrolling over Tony. "I want to go outside, and I want to have a boyfriend and I want to have sex-"

"Kid-"

"Please, Tony," Peter said. "I like you, and- and I don't want to experience this with anyone else in the tower, and I don't want to wait for the point one percent chance of someone my age coming along."

"Listen, kid," Tony sighs.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Tony," Peter said, sounding desperate. He looks at Tony with wide eyes, begging for the older man to understand.

Tony -hell, everyone in the tower- had a life before the virus. They got to experience the world. Peter hadnt.

Its all he wanted. He wanted a normal life. A life he was robbed of. He's desperate for it.

Tony doesn't say anything. He looks at Peter, calculating. Peter sees his shoulders begin to slump, and finally he breaks. Peter feels a little giddy at the thought of getting his way, though he remains put.

"No," Tony said on a sigh. "I suppose you're not."

Peter doesn't know whatto say after that. He's made his case, there's nothing more to say.

"Its hard," Tony said after a while. "I still think of you as a kid. I still think you're ten."

Peter chews on his lower lip, head dipped down and shoulders hunched in on themselves.

"So you don't like me back?" He managed to ask, even as his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

"Kid-" he sighs. "Peter."

Tony settles a hand on Peter's shoulder, and Peter looks up at him.

"I like you," he says. Peter feels himself beginning to smile and quickly clamps that down, biting his lip. "God knows this situation isn't ideal. This would've been bordering on illegal, before."

"If you're uncomfortable, I understand," Peter said. Tony shakes his head.

"Thats not what I'm saying, Pete."

Peter didn't know what he was saying then.

"If we're going to try this out, there's gotta be rules," Tony continued. Peter looked back up at him.

"First rule is there's no hiding it. If we're gonna date, everyone knows about it or its not happening."

"Okay," Peter nodded.

"And we're taking this slow," Tony adds. "Like, cold honey slow, got it?"

"Got it," Peter nodded. His smile is getting too wide to hide. Tony's hand squeezes his shoulder.

"Good."

He removes his hand from Peter's shoulder. He gives Peter a small smile back.

"Could- is kissing going too fast?" Peter asks. Tony's smile grows a little, and he shakes his head.

"No, its not too fast."

The older man leans forward and Peter eagerly closes the distance between them.

The kiss is close lipped, and their noses press against each other, but its perfect.

[kakakakashi]

Hokage’s Office: Under the Desk

100 Follower Celebration - Day 4

Kakashi Hatake x Reader || NSFW

Warnings: porn without plot, lots of oral, Kotetsu & Izumo are clueless, Yamato isn’t as clueless as Kakashi thinks he is, cursing, you know how these go

Word count: 2,007

A/N: I’m really glad y’all are enjoying these. I feel like it’s just the same story over and over, but like... Also, MY TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES ARE SOLVED! 

- 

Making out in the Hokage’s office was always a fun game. Making out in the Hokage’s office with the door still unlocked was playing with fire. You had no idea how you ended up grinding atop Kakashi in his desk chair, a mix of limbs tangled around each other, groping at any flesh you could reach. Your mixed panting the only real sound in the room other than your muffled groans against each others lips. Sweat began to gather on your brow while you swiveled your hips against the front of Kakashi’s pants, making him grow harder with each passing moment.

You had both been humping each other to the point where you’d begun to feel the beginning heat of orgasm, but that quickly changed when Kakashi’s eyes flew open. His heightened hearing had detected footsteps approaching the door. With catlike reflexes, his large hands grabbed you by the waist. He hoisted you off of him and placed you on the floor below his desk before he scooted his chair in to hide you. He’d just finished adjusting his mask over his nose when Kotetsu and Izumo entered the office.

From beneath the Hokage’s desk, you knew exactly who had entered the second you heard Kotetsu’s voice speak from the doorway. “Lord Sixth, we finished our shift and wanted to give you our border patrol report.”

You smirked to yourself when an idea popped into your head, your gaze landing in front of you on the tented fabric between Kakashi’s legs. Wasting no time, you unfastened his pants and freed his painfully hard erection. When he realized what you were about to do, despite present company, Kakashi couldn’t deny the arousal stirring in his gut. His member twitched slightly at the thought of your mouth around him in front of his subordinates, causing you to smirk below his desk. 

“Very well,” Kakashi hastily decided, “I’ll take the scroll, and you’re both dismissed!”

You chuckled internally when you positioned your lips just close enough to his pinkened, leaking head to make him feel your breath fanning across the sensitive tip. He should have come up with a more convincing dismissal, but at that moment, Kakashi’s brain was consumed in an aroused haze, well aware of what you were about to do.

“Lord Sixth, shouldn’t we review it before you dismiss us?” Izumo suggested after sharing a confused glance with Kotetsu.

In that exact moment, Kakashi felt the tip of your tongue place a kitten lick across his sensitive tip. His chest tightened when you repeated the action before your tongue switched to stroke along the vein beneath his hard, throbbing length. The sensation left him drawing in a slow inhale of breath. He tried to play it off to the pair of chunin as a sigh in agreement. However, in his mind, he was silently cursing the situation. Kakashi was tempted to scream, “You’re kidding me! They choose now to be thorough!”

You wrapped your lips around Kakashi and slid your awaiting mouth down his cock, relishing in the salty taste of every inch he offered your hollowed cheeks. Kakashi’s whole body twitched a bit when Izumo held out the scroll for the Hokage to receive, but neither of the chunin seemed to notice.

Pulling back your mouth from under the desk, you sucked Kakashi in again, now working your hand over what you couldn’t fit. You made sure to flatten your tongue when he filled you, and when you retreated, you flicked it against the tip the way that made his head spin.

As your pace gradually accelerated, Kakashi found himself staring at the now unrolled scroll before his eyes. The faster you bobbed your head, the closer he got to his release, and he couldn’t read the text in front of him even if he tried. Instead, he found himself simply pretending to read it while he tried to keep himself from bucking into your warm, wet mouth that left him spiraling towards his release.

Even though he hadn’t been staring at the scroll for long, the second Kakashi felt your nails scrape against the skin of his balls, he closed the paper and looked directly at Kotetsu and Izumo, stating, “Very well. Good job. You’re dismissed.”

His veins were filled with electricity, and he was sure he was going to blow while Kotetsu and Izumo bowed and exited the room. The second the door clicked shut, Kakashi leaned back enough to see you sucking his dick like your life depended on it, and a long groan escaped his throat at the sight. His hands tossed the scroll somewhere to the side before one of them took hold of your hair, shoving your face down on his cock so you were gagging.

You let out a whimper at the heavy feeling of Kakashi on your tongue and your throat, but you gladly took what he gave you.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” You could hear the smirk in his voice while his hips bucked into your awaiting mouth. Tears prickled in your eyes, but you attempted to fight them back while you choked on Kakashi’s dick.

However, your gag reflex came out once more, and that was the end for Kakashi. His balls tightened, and his cock twitched in your mouth, grunts and curses spilling from him while he emptied himself into your mouth.

You tried to swallow everything he gave you, but a little bit did dribble down your chin because of how messy he was. However, once he rode out his high, and you released his cock with a small pop, his thumb quickly wiped up the drop and patiently waited for you to part your lips again for him. When you did, he shoved his thumb in your mouth and you sucked it clean, moaning around the digit before releasing it like his cock.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he panted before a look filled his gaze, “Now… let me have a turn.”

“Kakashi, you don’t have t–”

“Just sit in the chair and shut up. I want my revenge.” He stood from his Hokage chair, fondly shaking his head at your antics. You rose from beneath his desk with a smirk to match his, and you plopped in his chair with a roll of your eyes.

Kakashi was on his knees before you could even retort, and he glanced up at you while his hands worked you out of your pants. You were a bit taken aback, but he quickly explained, “You know I can smell you, right? You’re fucking dripping, doll.”

You blushed a little at his words, but he had already moved on to shucking your pants to your ankles along with your underwear. He was gazing at your soaking folds like he’d just found heaven. Pulling down his mask to reveal flushed cheeks, he immediately spread you out to press a kiss against your cunt.

“Mine.” You barely managed to hear him growl it out, but it sent a shiver of pleasure straight to your core.

Your breath caught in your throat when he dove in between your legs, immediately licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, flattening his tongue at first until it flicked against your clit to circle the throbbing bud. You quickly grabbed the armrest on the chair, trying to keep yourself from gasping out at the sensation of Kakashi’s tongue.

He worked you just the way he knew you liked, first sucking on your clit and running his tongue everywhere he could, licking up everything you had to offer. The sensation was becoming too much, and you tried to back away, but he pulled you to the edge of the chair by your thighs, so his face was flush with your cunt. However, he decided to switch it up, moving from your clit, down to your entrance, circling the slick opening before his tongue caught in the center. He thrust his tongue inside you, causing you to let out a soft yelp.

It was short lived, though because just as quickly as he acted, he retreated. Just when you were about to ask what he was doing, he retreated under his desk, pulling the chair by the arms, so you were in the same position as before, but now the roles were reversed. Just in time too because the click of the door alerted you to another presence entering the room right as Kakashi resumed his task of slipping his tongue in your entrance.

Now, Yamato stepped into the room. “Lord Si– Oh, hello, Y/N.” He was obviously surprised to find you sitting in the Hokage’s chair. “Have you seen Kakashi senpai anywhere?”

“Nope! I was just waiting for him to get back.” Your high pitched voice came out more desperate than you’d intended, but you couldn’t help it with the way Kakashi’s tongue dragged in and out of you so deliciously that you were tempted to start humping his mouth. As soon as the excuse left your mouth, you knew it was a mistake. What if Yamato decided to stay and wait for Kakashi too?. He’d definitely catch on to your current predicament, and you’d never be able to look him in the eye again. Covering your tracks, your last shred of logic suggested, “He’s probably helping Naruto with something.”

That sounded better, and it was the best excuse you could come up with while Kakashi’s mouth was between your legs. He’d decided to switch his ministrations too, flattening his tongue across as much expanse as he could while dragging it back and forth.

The sensation had you gripping composure with white knuckles. Kakashi was truly pulling out all the stops to make you writhe. The blood pumping in your veins had you flushed and desperate. The heat of your orgasm growing with each stroke of the skilled tongue on your folds, well aware of how to abuse all of your weak spots.

“Okay,” Yamato drew you out of your pleasured haze when he spoke, “in that case, if you see him, please let me know. If you tell him I’m looking for him, he’ll hide.”

You would have laughed at the irony of the situation had the very man you spoke of not been pleasuring you beneath his very own desk. Besides, you were getting close, and if you had tried to laugh, it would have turned into a moan.

Instead, you opted to hiss out, “Will do!”

You thought you were in the clear, and you were extremely grateful. You could feel the quaking of your orgasm swelling deep inside you, your hearing partially blocked out with how good Kakashi was making you feel, but you fought your release since Yamato decided to speak again.

“By the way, are you alright? You look like you just ran a mile.”

You took a second to get ahold of your body, white hot pleasure burning you because of how close it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine! I just got back from training!” You overenthusiasticly explained before shooing him out with a hand, “Alright, see ya!”

Yamato took the hint and turned on his heel. As soon as his back was to you, your hand flew under the desk to grip at Kakashi’s silver hair, working your hips gently against his mouth that was now sucking hard on your clit while you writhed.

Just when the door closed behind Yamato, you finally allowed your release to consume you, your legs clamping around Kakashi while your body practically collapsed on itself. You back arched while your high hit you like a train, igniting every nerve in your body until you were burning with the white hot pleasure of your high. You couldn’t help the broken cry that escaped your lips while Kakashi continued abusing your throbbing cunt, working you through the ripples of bliss until your hips were twitching with overstimulation.

He pulled away with a wicked smile on his face while you panted, frantically trying to catch your breath.

[urmomsstuntdouble]

Can you do one for america

Since I received this about an hour or two after posting my lithuania analysis, I assume you’re asking for an america character analysis. I was debating whether or not to go through with writing this or not for a while, but i’ve decided that I’ll try. I hope you enjoy it!

Idealism

The first thing that sticks out to me when thinking about america is that he’s super idealistic, and I think this has its roots in his birth. Everything in his life has been about hope and being better than others, even down to the decision to colonise north america. England needs to be the most powerful country in europe. Better set up a colony in america so that it can save us. It’s that sort of logic that i think gives america the idea that he needs to be perfect, or that he can be the ideal person. And though a lot of what we consider to be the “american” identity (intense patriotism, nativism, idealism, etc) took recognizable shape in the 19th century, i think this way of thinking was nothing new to alfred. He’d been raised on it, with the desire to please arthur sort of in his blood? Anyway i feel like the idea that the colonies would be so so prosperous really put the idea into america’s head early on that he was perfect and that he was destined to be such a great person, even if that wasn't true. I often see his daddy issues presented as solely abandonment issues, but my interpretation of america is more of a combination of abandonment issues and the pressure, some of it self inflicted, to be a perfect country. Basically, his idealism is deeply rooted in unhealthy places. 

Also, a religion headcanon i have is that while he was more raised to be a puritan, freddie prefers quakerism. Though he’s not the most compatible with quakerism, as it rejects violence and quakers often refer to themselves as the society of friends, and are very welcoming, i think it gives him some hope. One of freddie’s biggest problems is that he wants people to be better than they are, and quakerism helps a little with that, because it’s a way that he can help himself become better than he currently is. I feel like he’s been a quaker for a very long time, so he’s not a very good quaker, but this is still something that’s very important to him. 

Hero complex and other mental bullshit

America having a hero complex and also being physically 19 is something i think really highly of. First of all, it very much fits with the mythology of america being a sort of world savior. Secondly, a lot of american media focuses on heroism, whether its on the behalf of average people, like the hunger games, or on the behalf of superheroes, like the mcu- especially over the past 20 years. Though i think it’s a good thing to promote heroism, the hero-martyr complex that gen z has is. Oof. And i think alfred fits very well into that toxic sort of “heroism” that most gen z kids have. He thinks he’s somehow able to fix everything wrong with the world, just because he really wants to. Though that desire is genuine, it’s not always something that’s his place to fix or something that even needed fixing. There’s also a selfish component to that- He needs to prove himself, and heroism is the only way he thinks he can do that. It’s why he works out constantly and cares so much, on a personal rather than country-avatar-thing level, about being #1 at everything. He has to be better than everyone else because he has to be the perfect hero. 

I also think it’s interesting how america seems to have more pronounced daddy issues than canada, and i think this is something that harkens back to the 13 colonies (side note i hate the term ‘colonial times’ when referring to the time before the revolutionary war or canadian independence. These are settler states, its always colonial times.) and american independence. Canada sort of only exists because of british loyalists, as they made up the majority of the population around the turn of the 19th century. They saw themselves as being The Better Colonists. Real daddy’s boy types, and I think this is something that contributes to the hero complex. Because matthew refused to rebel so openly, that made arthur favor him as a son, so alfred felt the need to be even better than matthew- even though, of course, alfred was a bit more favored. 

Fighting Style

Freddie is very good at violence, but not in the same way that a lot of other nations are. Where they tend to be more well trained in specific styles of fighting, freddie just sort of has all of them? His mind is very crowded, i think. Also, the way that he would have learned to fight is different from the other super powerful countries by virtue of his youth, and by virtue of the different regional fighting styles in america. One that’s haunted me is a trend in the ability to rip off ears and noses- Particularly by white gangs in the antebellum south, this was seen as being like. A real badass. I think alfred was something of a feral child. If you know the saying “it takes a village to raise a child,” i think it really did with him. He had so many parents, just like a lot of the western hemisphere countries. But anyway because of all his many many parents, there was never any strong parental force in his life, so it’s more like he didn’t have any at all, and because of that, alfred was a very strange child. And because violence is so ingrained in american society, alfred is very good at fighting, both in order to be fun and flashy and for his own self defense. Though he doesn't really like to fight unless he feels like he has to (and other people are very good at convincing him that he does have to)

Sports

Though america is definitely super athletic and could probably naturally be good at most sports, i think there’s a few that he’d more gravitate towards. Those are basketball, track and field, and olympic lifting. I would include american football but it’s a stupid sport that doesn’t make any sense, so it will not be included for spite reasons. In basketball I think he’s sort of an every-man. I think he’s around six feet tall, so he really could play any position on offense, and as for defense, I think he’d play his best defense against the point guard, bc i feel like Alfred is really fast and good at getting up in your face. He’d have a ton of steals whenever defending against the point guard. I think he’d be a good center on offense, because he’s a bit aggressive and that would be useful for getting rebounds and put-backs, though i wouldn’t discount point-guard freddie, because he does like to be very inspiring. He’s pretty energetic as well, and a point guard can really carry the entire team in terms of energy and spirit. As for track and field, he’d also be an every man- I feel like he’d gravitate more towards sprinting events by personality, but his coach would stick him in wherever. Where olympic lifts are concerned, he’s absolutely a snatch specialist. 

Empire and contradictions

America is an empire. No way of getting around that. I think imperialism in hetalia is an interesting subject, especially where america is concerned. @mysticalmusicwhispers did a good job running that down here, but basically my thoughts on the matter are that alfred doesn't really like being an empire. There’s many angles to that. It’s lonely at the top, for one. There’s no one who relates to being a 21st century empire in quite the same way as him. Then you have the fact that a lot of people living in america have suffered under imperialism as well. Because of that, there’s a lot of self hatred and anxiety and a not knowing if he can fully trust himself. Theres also the obsession that many americans have with people from other cultures being able to assimilate to american wasp culture. Because of all the people who live in the states who are very much not wasps and who can never be, it’s really hard on alfred, though he refuses to admit that things are anything but fine. 

Extras/Fun stuff

A book that reminds me of him is The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien. It’s a collection of short stories about O’Brien’s time serving in the military during the Vietnam War. It’s a very haunting book and I think about it at least once a week, but it is very violent and there’s a lot of fucked up stuff in it.

giveme chubby alfred or give me death

i feel like this shouldn’t have to be said, but sometimes there’s people who depict him as being pro-trump or pro-right wing bullshit, which. absolutely not. just because of all the political turmoil that exists within alfred, and because of all the pain he goes through because of all the hate that exists within his borders- hate that the entire world is forced to pay attention to. even though he might not have all the best sympathies or motivations, he’s just so tired of all the pain he personally goes through because of domestic political unrest, and would like it to end in the way that’s the least painful for him as a person. 

Bi king of my heart 

not a natural blond

I hc him as being mixed, though i’m not sure what exactly he’d look like? But i do enjoy alfred but not white, as poc are the driving force behind a lot of american life, right down to the languages we speak. Like. something like half the states names are the words of their indigenous peoples, and even more toponyms are indigenous across the country. Then of course i feel he’s very protective of aave and will always pronounce words in Not English correctly. (if u want to hear more about my language thoughts they’re linked below. Not gonna rehash it here cause those posts are Long™) 

My playlist for him!

Other analyses (age, linguistics) 

writing requests