#bringing a new meaning to the term “comfort character”

[evermorecountsastherapy]

literally the only thing that's kept me from ditching my endless amount of schoolwork to play bg3 all day is telling myself that "no, Gale would want me to study hard," "Gale would be proud of me for putting in the work," etc etc etc.

as you might possibly concur, I might be delusional, but at the end of the day, it's all about what gets you through the hard things 😌 yes I am very normal I have no idea what you're talking about

[daistea]

Since you take requests, would I be able to ask for something with Mithrun and Kabru with like a reader that's kind of dense with social cues/hints (especially if they're romantic)?

(I had people confess their love to me, and I still didn't get it till they put it in very clear terms)

(it's probably the 'tism, but I digress. )

I think it's potentially an absolutely hellerious dynamic since Kabru always plays 5D chess with every social interaction. As for Mithrun, I think it's funny to think how the other canaries would just be repeatedly hitting their head on the wall because their captain won't say it straight and they just don't g e t i t.

Ps: I absolutely love how in-depth all of your understanding of characters and their personalities are, and I just hxfhxdvgudts.

This blog just brings me so much joy

Yaaa!!

“Iᴛ’s ᴀ Dᴀᴛᴇ” Kᴀʙʀᴜ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, Mɪᴛʜʀᴜɴ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

gn reader

5000 words ;P

Warning: reader is very oblivious. Like incomprehensibly oblivious (for the lolz)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

♡ Kabru ♡

- Kabru has had little flings here and there throughout his life. He treated every partner with respect, of course, but Kabru wasn’t particularly looking for love. He doesn’t dislike the idea of love, it just hasn’t happened yet.

- So, when Kabru starts to genuinely fall in love with someone, it’s a new feeling. He’s observant enough to recognize what it is.

- Unfortunately, the person he’s falling in love with is you.

“He’s been unusually quiet lately,” Holm remarked. Who he was remarking that to remained to be seen. Mickbell didn’t care much. Kuro had other things to worry about. And Rin had already made the same observation three times earlier that day.

The first floor of the dungeon was always crowded, and Kabru’s ears were usually open for anything that could be of use. The leather armor merchant to his left had recently raised his prices. The cobbler to the right was in an argument with an older lady over the shape of a patch he’d made on her favorite boots. And Holm was concerned about Kabru’s recent lack of observations; as concerned as Holm could be.

“Is that really such a shock?” Kabru sent Holm a smile over his shoulder. “I’m not exactly a chatterbox.”

But he was aware of himself enough to know that his behavior lately had been odd. He was usually so good at hiding it, too, but the comfort of his friends seemed to lower his walls. Without realizing it, Kabru had spent their latest dungeon expedition sighing to himself, staring at walls, and missing the details of important things. On the third floor, they’d encountered thieves. His party always relied on him to clock the intentions of approaching adventurers— thieves tended to be overly familiar, friendly, and a bit too eager— but Kabru’s mind was elsewhere. The thieves attacked, and it had genuinely taken him by surprise. The fight wasn’t hard, but Kabru’s lack of preparation set off alarms in Rin and Holm’s heads.

“You’re not,” Rin agreed. Her brow furrowed and she got that cute little line on her forehead again. “However, you’ve really been out of it.”

“Have you been thinking about that person again?” Holm asked.

That person. That person? Kabru knew a lot of persons. The whole first level was filled to the brim with persons, half of them being his acquaintances. Kabru had zero desire to admit that he knew precisely who Holm was referring to, though, and decided to keep his gaze straight ahead as he weaved through the crowd.

When he didn’t respond, Mickbell laughed, “Yeah, he’s thinking of them alright.”

“Heat?” Kuro asked.

Mickbell scoffed from his place on Kuro’s shoulders, “Tall-men don’t go into heat! At least I don’t think so. But they catch feelings, like a cold. Kabru’s caught a cold.”

“Not sneezing,” Kuro mumbled.

“A feelings cold, I mean! The worst kind.”

That was one way to put it. Kabru couldn’t help but sigh as he led the party towards a quieter spot in the corner. Once they were out of the sea of people, he leaned against the stone wall and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have feelings, I’m simply curious,” he said.

Curious. Right. Mickbell sent him a scrunched up, narrow-eyed look that was reminiscent of constipation. Yet, Rin interjected before the half-foot could say something heinous. “What’re you curious about, particularly?” She asked.

“Good question,” Kabru folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head in thought.

What was he curious about? You held so many secrets. You had this look in your eyes that drew him, a look that reminded him of a room in his mother’s house. She always told him to not go inside. Her rules only made him want to turn the knob even more. And when he finally did disobey her and go inside, all he saw were boxes full of ceramic unicorn miniatures. Still, the rush of satisfaction he’d felt at finally knowing what was in there couldn’t be matched. That’s what he wanted to do to you, open your door and take a peek.

Or, perhaps a ‘peek’ was an understatement. He wanted to meticulously inspect every inch of your mind with a microscope, to know the atoms unseen by the human eye, to be intimately acquainted with every molecule you possessed.

“He’s zoned out again,” Holm muttered, ripping Kabru out of his thoughts.

He looked up, eyes widening at the observation. Holm was right, he was zoned out again, staring at the dirt on the floor and contemplating you.

He forced a smile, “Don’t worry about me, really. I’m just preoccupied. It’s that person, I simply want to know their intentions.”

“Intentions for what?” Rin asked.

For everything. There was no simple answer.

“Oh hey,” Mickbell glanced over his shoulder. His voice was flat as he scanned the room, “There they are.”

Kabru followed Mickbell’s gaze, a straight line that led directly to you— all lines seemed to lead directly to you lately. His heart clenched in a way that was both unpleasant and addictive. Without realizing it, he pushed away from the wall and began striding toward where you stood.

“Wait,” Rin grabbed his arm as he passed. Kabru blinked, looking down at her and waiting for her to speak. She met his eyes and frowned, “I think you’re going to be disappointed. They’re not as mysterious as you think they are.”

Nonsense. You were incredibly mysterious. Kabru could tell you had secrets, layers. He dreamed of pulling them back one by one.

“They couldn’t disappoint me,” he sent Rin a smile that he hoped was reassuring— he knew it was, he’d practiced it in the mirror and on other people all the time.

“I think they will,” she argued.

“They won’t,” his smile faltered just the slightest. Rin didn’t usually get involved in Kabru’s… hobby. Did she know something he didn’t? He decided to not ask outright, accepting the challenge of figuring out the meaning behind her concern on his own.

Rin let go of his arm and Kabru was free to go. His mind switched elsewhere, onto you, and before he knew it he was already slipping through the crowd of bodies to reach you.

You were in front of the vegetable seller’s stand, inspecting a lumpy potato. Kabru knew the vegetable seller was cheating on his wife. Usually, he’d try to get more out of the man, digging deeper simply for the sake of knowing. Yet, you stood there, beautiful and mind-consuming. What did Rin mean by ‘I think you’re going to be disappointed’? Kabru was rarely disappointed with secrets.

“Hey,” he raised a hand as he neared. You looked up from the potato and returned his smile. There was that look in your eyes again, that closed door he desperately needed the key to.

He loved crowds. He loved the hundreds of voices. He loved listening to each one and assigning them meaning, picking apart their words, filing them away into neat little categories. Yet, the crowd might as well have disappeared. All he saw was you. All he wanted was you and your words and your thoughts and your fears and your goals and your likes and your dislikes and your intentions and your—

“Oh hey,” your voice cut through the wants like the slash of a sword, “Kapru.”

Kapru.

His brows furrowed and he plastered on a polite smile— also practiced in the mirror. “It’s Kabru.”

“Right, sorry,” you shrugged.

Were you playing with him? Were you sending your pawn out, a piece that you expected him to take for the sake of a larger, more powerful move? Was it bait?

“How are you?” He forced himself to ask, though he could hear the weakness in his voice. He desperately hoped you wouldn’t notice.

You only tilted your head in thought, “I’m fine. Just buying potatoes.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” Kabru said. It was a lie, you saw him last week. “My party and I are about to go back to the surface to restock. We could grab a drink if you wanted.”

“Why?” You asked.

Why? Why? Kabru couldn’t say why. He wouldn’t say why. ‘I want to take detailed notes on every word you say, every gesture, every breath’ wouldn’t be helpful to his cause in the least.

“Because we’re friends,” he slowly explained. Again, there was that hint of weakness lacing every syllable. He wanted to tear his voice box apart and reconstruct it in a way that wouldn’t falter every time he saw you.

But you didn’t seem to notice. “Alright,” you sent him a smile that made his heart clench.

Alright. Kabru’s smile relaxed, “Alright,” he echoed. “It’s a date.”

‘It’s a date’ was a common saying, of course. But it still held implications, it still held desires, it still signified something more— At least to him it did.

You remained unphased by it, though. Usually, when Kabru said that, there would be a laugh or blush or the widening of eyes. You gave him nothing of the sort. No flirtatious looks, no intention-laced smile, no flicker of recognition.

“See you then,” was all you said.

Rin was wrong. You couldn’t disappoint him. Opening your doors and peeking inside your mind would be so satisfying.

- You go on several dates with Kabru without realizing they’re dates.

- After one date when you make friends with the next table over and invite them to join your meal, introducing Kabru as ‘my friend’ and not ‘the man who is courting me’ or ‘my boyfriend’, he begins to wonder…

- Do you not realize that these are dates?

Kabru knew he had the tendency to stare, but he usually kept that urge locked away for the sake of masking. Always masking. Always aware of his surroundings and the people and the words and the looks.

He kept his staring urge hidden at first. Yet as time passed, as you went on more dates, he couldn’t help himself. He had to stare. He had to drink in every detail of your face, coveting it all as a desert wanderer would covet water.

And you didn’t seem to mind. You would give him this look sometimes, a look he couldn’t quite decipher. It was a mixture between affection and confusion and bashfulness. It was his favorite expression of yours and never failed to put butterflies in his stomach.

Kabru knew he was falling in love. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he’d never been truly in love before. At night when he forced himself into bed, he stared at the ceiling and mused on the future you had together. Neither of you had said anything to make the relationship official, but was that even needed? It was obvious that you were together— to him, at least.

Kabru held your hand as he led you through the crowded streets. Once you caught up to his side, he placed his palm on the small of your back. He wasn’t much for PDA, but it was a necessity when traversing the island together. He didn’t want to lose you in the crowd.

Once you were in a more quiet spot, he sent you a smile, “I have to ask, I’m too curious; What’s your favorite date that we’ve had together?”

You thought for a moment, “Hm… I would have to say last week. It was a Thursday. I like Thursdays anyway. I think it was the 7th? Yeah. June 7th, Thursday. That’s a good date, it’s a bit cool outside and all the flowers are blooming. But if I had to say which one was my favorite, I think it would be April 18th. I’m not sure that we spent that date together, though.”

…Okay.

Like the sunset rising over the mountains, it began to dawn on him.

Were you stupid?

No, you weren’t stupid. He had seen you in the dungeon before, how you fought and strategized and reacted. You couldn’t be stupid.

Then what? Were you playing hard to get? Were you teasing him? Was this a move on the board, your Knight piece pressing forward to continue the assault? Kabru needed to know.

He kept his hand on your back but his gaze straight ahead. “That’s nice,” he said. It wasn’t nice, actually. “What about when we hold hands? Do you enjoy that?”

You shrugged, “It helps us keep track of each other as we go through a crowd.”

“But I hold your hand even when we’re not around other people.”

The face you made betrayed your true thoughts. “Yeah, it seems like your hands are cold a lot. You really should start keeping gloves with you.”

“...Do you think I’m holding your hand because my fingers are cold?”

Another flash of confusion, another furrow of your brows. “Why else would you hold my hand?”

The sun rose completely over the mountains and the daytime, clear and bright, engulfed his world.

You had no clue.

- This stresses Kabru out immensely.

- He starts taking notes. He has a special little book just for you. A lot of the pages are filled with scribbles and question marks.

- He makes a plan on what to do. He’s going to up the ante, he’s going to make his feelings so clear that you can’t ignore them or be oblivious even if you tried.

- He starts getting more touchy. He kisses your forehead often. He kisses your knuckles. He’s around you all the time, every chance he gets. He tells you you’re beautiful. He says that he wants you to meet his mother. He talks about your future together.

- You say, “Oh, your mom? Cool. You think we’ll get along? I’m always up for making new friends.”

- “You want a future with me? Well, I’m free next Wednesday.”

“I like you,” Kabru was breathless and wide-eyed. His hair was a mess from how often he’d run his fingers through it. He was disheveled and hadn’t slept the entire night.

You glanced up from the book you were reading, “Oh? Cool, thanks.”

He sent you a look. “No, I mean I love you.”

“Yeah,” you flipped a page in the book, “love you too.”

“You do?” Hope bloomed and unfurled like a spring flower. Kabru felt his cheeks grow warm, a fire igniting within him.

“Yeah,” you said lightly, “I love all my friends, of course.”

That spring flower suddenly wilted. The fire was doused by a cold bucket of water in the form of your words. Kabru wanted to scream and bang his head against the wall.

“You don’t get it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, fingers tensing as he leaned forward, desperate. “I’m in love with you. This is really hard for me to say, but I think you need to hear it like this. I love you. I love you. I love you…” Somehow, his cheeks went even hotter. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed his embarrassment, “I-I… Sorry. I just need you like I need oxygen. I…”

You snorted, “You don’t need me to breathe, I’m a person not an organ. You’re breathing right now just fine.”

He was not breathing just fine, but that was beside the point.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Kabru said. He could hear how strained his voice sounded.

You watched as he walked away, rounding a corner and disappearing from sight. Then he screamed. It sounded like he also kicked something, a crate or box maybe.

How odd.

- When it finally gets through your head, he’s actually a bit satisfied by your embarrassment at it all. Yes, please do acknowledge your obliviousness. Please do apologize for treating his love confession so casually. When you do so, he feels as if he could melt from the relief.

- He still wants to bang his head on the wall, though.

- And he’s spent a lot of nights screaming into his pillow.

- Kabru continues to play 5d chess with you, just simply out of habit, but you’re playing Hungry Hungry Hippos the entire time. He still finds himself trying to pick apart your actions and responses, but he’s learned how to take things at face value when it comes to you. It’s a difficult adjustment, but one he’s willing to make.

- He starts to learn, take more notes, observe your behavior. For dates, he lays it out carefully. You two are going to do this specific thing. Why? Because he would like to see you happy, and hold your hand, and kiss you. Why? Because he loves you. Now you get it.

- You’re fascinating actually. Genuinely, he starts to adore how your brain works. He wants to pick it apart and hold the pieces up to a magnifying glass.

♡ Mithrun ♡

- He does not care.

- Be as oblivious as you want, that’s not going to stop Mithrun.

- The Canaries, however, are going insane.

“How’s it going with them?” Pattadol asked. Her hands were folded in front of her in that polite way, the way that told Mithrun that his second in command had something on her mind. Pattadol thought she was subtle. She was not.

And he knew precisely who she was referring to. Might as well give her an answer that’ll satisfy her curiosity, lest she keep asking questions.

“Fine,” he answered, “just fine.”

Yet, Pattadol’s brow furrowed. Not a good sign.

“Just fine?” She asked. Her voice went up a pitch. “It’s just fine? Really?”

“Really.”

She unlaced her fingers and spread out her hands as if gesturing to something, but all that surrounded them was Mithrun’s under-decorated living quarters. There was really nothing to gesture at besides the wooden cabinets and the bed. Mithrun waited, aware that she was picking through her piles of thoughts— probably thoughts mixed with screams of frustration— to find the right words.

Finally, Pattadol forced a shaken smile, “It’s clear to anyone that knows you that you’re in love with them, Captain.”

That was what she decided to say? It was a bit blunt for Pattadol’s usual style. Mithrun only shrugged, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty obvious.”

“So why haven’t they noticed yet?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I want you to be happy for once!” Pattadol snapped, but she then took a deep breath, “Sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to sound that way. This is hard for me, talking so openly about these things… But it’s so frustrating to watch.”

Mithrun could understand that. While he personally wasn’t frustrated by the circumstances, he knew that the Canaries couldn’t stand watching his interactions with you. It wasn’t a big deal in the long run, in his opinion. They’d get over it.

“Thank you,” he answered.

“Do you have any ideas on how we can do that?”

“Do what?”

Pattadol’s eye twitched ever so slightly. Her fingers tensed like claws, and Mithrun felt the corner of his lips turn up in a barely-there smirk. But genuinely, he wasn’t sure what she referred to. Did she mean the part about him being happy, or the part about you being oblivious? She should’ve been more clear.

“About…” she hesitated. Obviously she wasn’t sure what she meant either. She then nodded as if deciding, “About everything. About the obliviousness, your happiness, etcetera.”

He didn’t know what the etcetera referred to, but didn’t care to ask. “You don’t have to do anything,” Mithrun assured her as he leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. The wood creaked slightly from the movement. Everything on this boat creaked, as was the nature of boats, he guessed.

“I would like to do something,” Pattadol nodded, determined. “We all would.”

A shrug, “Alright. Then do something.”

- Pattadol, over-achiever and top student and certified Girl Who Cares Too Much, takes that as a challenge.

- Cithis only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- Fleki also only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- And Lycion also also joins because he thinks it’ll be funny (though he does care on some level. Not really about you, but about Mithrun. And it’s painful to watch.)

- Otta is forced to join.

- The attempts are weak at first, like dipping a toe into the water to see how cold it is. Mithrun only has so much patience for interference with his life, so they have to be smart and tread carefully.

- Pattadol gives Mithrun a hint. “There’s some pretty flowers growing beside the road over there. You should give one to them!”

- “What would they need a flower for?”

- Mithrun asks that on purpose. He knows precisely what he’s doing. Yes, people generally like receiving flowers, he knows that. But he also believes that flowers are useless gifts.

- “Then what present do you suggest?” Pattadol asks.

- Mithrun has an idea. He gets you soap. Everybody uses soap (hopefully) It’s a useful gift, and if he gives you the same kind he uses then he’ll get some weird sick flicker of pleasure from having his scent on you. (He wisely chooses to not say that part aloud.)

You held the little bar of soap in your hands as if it were an injured baby bird you found on the ground. Yet your feelings towards it were far from protective or empathetic. This soap said something. It had a mouth and it used it to scream.

You met Mithrun’s flat gaze, “Soap…”

He nodded, “Yeah. Soap. It’s a gift for you.”

For you?

Mithrun continued, “It’s the same kind I use. Smells the same.”

It felt as if you’d swallowed a handful of pebbles and they all had gotten stuck in your throat. “Do you… think I’m stinky?”

You cursed yourself for even asking that. What a useless question. Obviously, he thought you stank! He gave you soap! He was trying to tell you something, being subtle and polite for once! Usually Mithrun would just say it bluntly, but he’d been working on his desires lately. Perhaps he’d also decided to embrace societal expectations? You weren’t sure. But soap. Soap!

You didn’t notice how Mithrun tensed. You didn’t see him quickly blink several times and tilt his head. You didn’t see the slight widening of his good eye. “No, I—“

“I’ll go use this right now,” you interrupted, “I’ll go wash away my stench so you can finally stand to be near me.”

Despite the horror, you were a bit proud of yourself. You’d taken a hint, maybe you were getting less oblivious.

- In your defense, a bar of soap is a weird gift.

- Alright. Mithrun admits it, he needs help. He’s not so prideful anymore that he won’t admit that he doesn’t know what to do.

- Pattadol is really triumphant about that but does her best not to show it.

- Plan B: make it so obvious that you have no choice but to realize his feelings.

“This has to be the most physically uncomfortable I’ve felt in a very long time,” Mithrun said as he tugged at the ends of the fancy, over-decorated blouse the Canaries had put him in. “I honestly prefer Cithis’s frilly dresses.”

Which was saying something. Mithrun had a preference? That was a good sign.

“It makes you look handsome,” Pattadol said.

“The only thing it makes me is itchy,” he corrected.

The Canaries had somehow found a blouse— not a shirt or tunic, a blouse— that made Mithrun feel something other than indifference. He usually didn’t care about what he wore, as long as it was comfortable, but the clothes they’d stuffed him into were offensive to human-kind, like vegan bacon.

It had a big frill on the front and puffy sleeves. It was somehow both too flowy and too tight at the same time. The trousers weren’t much better, digging into his legs. And the shoes…

Mithrun didn’t want to talk about the shoes.

It was clear to him that Fleki and Cithis had only contributed to the outfit because they thought it would be amusing. Good for them, he supposed. Pattadol seemed to genuinely like it, Otta looked horrified, and Lycion was in some in between state where he wanted to show pity but couldn’t quite stifle his giggles.

“Remind me again what the point of this is?” Mithrun asked with a sigh.

“We got them to agree to a date!” Pattadol said, grinning, “I said outright ‘it’s a date’ so there would be no confusion. I made it clear that the date was with you. Now, if you show up looking like a million gold with a bouquet of flowers, they’ll get the hint.”

Mithrun did not want to do that.

Mithrun rarely wanted to do anything, but this just felt wrong. In his opinion, the relationship between you and him would develop naturally in a way that fit both of your personalities. He didn’t mind waiting for you to realize his intentions, he had time. As long as you didn’t fall in love with someone else, and didn’t stop him from staring at you or touching you, then he wasn’t in a rush.

But since the Canaries insisted, seeming to think that this was the right course of action, he would go along with it. Maybe it would be an utter disaster and Pattadol would realize that she knew very little about relationships— especially a relationship involving Mithrun. He was aware enough of himself to know that it wouldn’t be conventional.

With his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and the ridiculous outfit on, Mithrun entered the restaurant Pattadol had chosen. He found you immediately. You sat in a chair with your elbow on the table and your ankles crossed, waiting.

Mithrun held a bouquet of pink roses as he approached. You lit up when you saw him, but your brows then furrowed.

“Where’s Pattadol?” You asked.

His stride faltered, “She isn’t coming.”

“Oh,” you shrugged, “well since she set this up I assumed she’d be here.”

Why would she be here? It was a date Pattadol had set up for you and Mithrun specifically.

You probably didn’t know it was a date, he realized. Pattadol thought she’d been clear by saying ‘it’s a date’ but failed to realize that that was just a common phrase among people and meant nothing to no one.

Calm, he slid into the seat across from you and watched as you raised a brow, “What’re you wearing?” You asked.

“My team picked it out for me.”

“You look like you’re part of an opera or a ballet, like you’re about to stand beneath a balcony and start spouting poetry to your lover.”

That was a good description, actually. Those were the words Mithrun had been looking for earlier when he saw himself in the mirror.

He nodded, “Yep.” Then, wordlessly, he held out the bouquet to you.

Your eyes widened, “For me?”

“I’m handing them to you, aren’t I?”

Gingerly, you took the flowers and held the stem of the wrapped bouquet with both hands as you inspected each petal.

A flicker of surprising satisfaction ran through his chest. You liked the flowers. It made sense, most people liked flowers, even if he didn’t see why.

You dipped your head down toward them presumably to smell them, but your lips then parted and you dug your teeth into the nearest rose.

Mithrun froze.

You chewed on the rose, your nose wrinkling in disgust. You gave the flower a good shot, a proper taste, but it didn’t take long until you grabbed a napkin and spit up the pink slobbery mess into it.

“Sorry,” you sent him an apologetic smile and tried to hand the bouquet back to him, “they don’t taste that good, and I don’t think I could season or cook them in a way that would help.”

Mithrun knew he was staring. He knew he was making a face, slightly tilting his head down, intensity in his eye. The kind of face someone made when they were internally screaming.

He was not internally screaming, but he was thinking— about you, how your brain worked. And how it was so damn charming for some reason and all he wanted to do was kiss you until he was all you could think about.

He wanted something. The feeling was sweet, a shot of adrenaline, one of Fleki’s drugs. Addictive. Like the slow drip of honey. He could survive off that want for ages.

Wordlessly, Mithrun threw the bouquet over his shoulder to get rid of it. Judging by the gasp that followed, it probably hit someone in the head.

Loving you was as natural to him as breathing.

- Mithrun decides to not let the Canaries interfere any longer. He was wrong earlier in thinking he needed their help. He doesn’t.

- Also, watching them go insane over your obliviousness and his lack of communication provides a good bit of entertainment.

- When he finally decides to give into that all-consuming, new, exciting desire and kiss you, your response is, “But I wasn’t casting a spell, no reason to try and stop me.”

- God, he adores you.

- He takes kisses whenever he wants them, with no care about what you think his intention is.

- After a certain kiss that involves tongue and teeth and fingers digging into your waist, you start to openly wonder… Are you in a relationship with Mithrun?

“Yes,” Mithrun didn’t even glance up at you, remaining unphased by your rather serious question, “We’re in a relationship.”

He continued to jot down notes about a monster he saw, as if he’d just casually answered a question about the weather. ‘Is it going to rain today?’ ‘Yeah looks like it.’

You gulped, “How long?”

“A year now,” he kept writing. Truthfully, he’d been expecting this. A flash of disappointment crossed his mind; there goes one of his hobbies, watching the Canaries have a crisis over his love life.

You buried your face in your hands. Mithrun stopped writing and patted your head as if comforting a dog.

- The Canaries are pleased that this is over. But actually, they’re going to have to watch you not realize it when you’re engaged to the Captain.

- At your wedding you’re in regular clothes. Someone asks why and you say “Mithrun told me we’re going to a wedding. He didn’t say it was ours.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[absurdthirst]

A Roman Romp {Deiter Bravo *AS* Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Drug mentions, power imbalance, fucking the boss, clitoral play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (male receiving), derogatory names, role play, rough sex, Dieter being unbelievably bad with emotions, costume play.

Comments: You've found a niche as Dieter Bravo's assistant. Taking care of him and sleeping with him work surprisingly easy until his new role as a Roman general makes you completely feral for him.

A/N: Completely inspired by the sexy, bloody gifs.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

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“Deeper. Raspier.” You decide, ignoring the frown of the man in front of you as you contemplate the voice pitch he has changed into. Dieter Bravo loves to experiment with his voice and facial expressions, but being the consummate narcissist that he is, he doesn’t like it when it’s not immediately loved by all. You don’t work that way and he knows it. It’s why you are permitted to run through the dialogue with him and read the scripts when most assistants just scheduled appointments and bring the actors they work for the page changes. “This is a man who has screamed throughout the bloodiest battles, who has inhaled the smoke from a hundred thousand fires. He’s hardened by battle, by death, and he shows it.” You explain, painting a picture for him to visualize from the comfort of his plush designer sofa in his Sherman Oaks mansion.

Dieter nods, shifting to sit up and he clears his throat. “You’re right. He’s seen shit we could never imagine. He needs to be tortured but capable.” Dieter decides and rolls his shoulders. His eyes focus on the script and he says “I declare for Rome. For her Emperor. For her people.” He deepens his voice, letting it catch to be raspier than before. “How was that?” He asks, face softening as he expectedly looks at you.

Despite the massive ego, the demands, and his ability to act like a twelve year old boy at times, Dieter is surprisingly needy. He craves acceptance, like a feral cat who spits and hisses when you get too close, but is desperate to be loved on their own terms. You deal with him delicately at times, more harshly at others, all while understanding that neediness. It’s what made you work well for him. “That was good.” You nod in approval.

He thanks you with a slightly dazed, soppy smile, like he's grateful for the approval. Like it means the most coming from you. "Yeah?" He asks, hungry for more praise and you nod. He stares at you for a second before he looks back at the script, continuing with the new voice he's found for the character and he continues practicing his lines, his eyes drifting over to you every now and then as he seeks approval.

This time he runs through the lines without you reading the other parts, but sometimes he wants you to voice the other characters, to give him a tone to feed off of. Since the Cliff Beasts debacle and you coming to work for him, Dieter has been determined to win another Oscar and you think this might be the role to do that.

“I’m trying on the costumes this afternoon.” Dieter tells you like you didn’t already know that. You know every detail of his schedule. “I know.” You chuckle softly and he flushes slightly, “yeah. I am hoping it’s going to help me find the character posture.” He confesses, “and I get to check out my trailer before filming begins in a couple days.”

That’s code for he wants the trailer to feel like his own personal retreat so you need to pack up all of his favorite things. Like you hadn’t already planned that. “I will make sure that you can relax.” You promise, shooting him a soft smile. “Your favorite incense and candles, that serenity stone and I’ll pack up your favorite sheets to bring with us today.”

“You’re the best.” Dieter compliments you and it’s a rare occasion but he’s sincere as he offers you a soft smile. “I’m gonna go smoke a little before we go to the studio. Can you go get some tacos for me?” He asks, “carnitas.” He decides with a nod as he relaxes against the sofa.

“Sure thing, boss.” You wink at him and put a little away in your walk as you leave the room, knowing his eyes are on your ass. This thing you have with Dieter is incredibly easy and complicated at the same time. You sleep together, pretty damn often, but you aren’t his girlfriend. He’s sworn off relationships since Kate and Anika, but it’s not like you can blame him. You get sex and as a bonus, it puts your boss into a better mood for you to deal with him professionally. It doesn’t hurt that you care about him a lot, love him really, but that’s something you would never admit to him. You know that you just fill a void in his life.

Dieter watches until you disappear and he sets his script down, rubbing his scruffy cheek. Fuck, you’re so goddamn gorgeous. Too good for him to touch you honestly and he knows he’s putting everything on the line. Losing you would mean losing his assistant but also his best friend and some of the best fucking sex he’s ever had. He can’t tell you anything about how he feels in case you’re scared off and he loses it all. With a sigh, he looks back at his script and waits for you to return like the lovesick fool he is.

It doesn’t take you long, the place where you go makes the best fucking tacos and they know how Dieter likes them. He’s ordered from there often enough while he’s high. You get some extras because he said he wanted to smoke some weed when he gets back from having his costume fitted and you know he will have the munchies. Picking up some salad because you know he won’t eat greens unless you get them. “I’m back.” You sail through the door with the paper bag and grin. “You eat and I’ll get the bag together for your trailer.”

Dieter groans at the smell of the tacos and he pats the space next to him. “Come and sit down with me, babe.” He orders, wanting you to eat as well. You run around after him all the time and he knows you don’t always remember to eat.

“Okay.” You don’t argue, just plopping down beside him and handing him the agua fresca you had ordered for him from the drink carrier. “I can eat and then I’ll make sure we get you settled into your trailer.”

Dieter reaches out to squeeze your leg. He’s always been a touchy feely kind of man, needing that physical connection. That’s why he wants sex so much. He loves to feel wanted and to be touched. “You’re the best.” He says around a mouth full of tacos.

“You might not think so when you see this.” You tease, pulling out the salad to set in front of him. He doesn’t argue but he does pout, swallowing the mouth of tacos and sighs. “Did you get that adobo dressing?” He asks hopefully, knowing he would eat anything as long as that stuff is on it. “Two of them.” You promise. “So you can have one for a salad on set.”

“Fuck yes. You’re - you’re the fucking best. No one comes close to you. Literally no other assistant is like you, babe.” Dieter praises with a mouth full of tacos. His last assistant couldn’t make him hard and he certainly couldn’t make him eat salad. He was authoritative and while Dieter likes to be submissive, when it comes to his work, he is the one in control.

You shouldn’t let the praise get to you, knowing that Dieter is always expressive when he’s happy and then can throw full tantrums when he’s not. Still, you smirk and lean forward to grab a taco for yourself after putting a straw in your own drink. “That’s why you pay me so well.” You remind him. “Don’t forget you still have to make that happy birthday video to send to your niece.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’ve already sent the gift from you. It’s a battery operated kiddie jeep. She will love it.”

Dieter nods, knowing he would have completely forgotten about her birthday. He loves his niece but his brother is a stiff prick. Always the golden child. Better at everything including being monogamous and heterosexual. He went to college, got his finance degree. Has the wife and 2.5 kids in Dallas and Dieter is…never good enough. Even when he’s won a fucking Oscar. “I gotta go see that kid soon. Make sure she’s not fucking boring like her dad.” He snorts as he wipes his mouth.

“Let me know when you want to go and I’ll work it into your schedule.” You promise, reminding yourself to remind him of it when filming ends for this movie. He always wants to go somewhere after he’s wrapped a movie. “Just let me know and I’ll take care of everything.” From his flight to the drugs, you will make sure he has everything he needs.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, unsure if he wants to deal with his family. Especially his parents. He left Texas to come to L.A when he was eighteen and he struggled until he got spotted while he was failing at being a waiter. “You need a break too. At some point.” He announces as he reluctantly digs into his salad even with the adobo smothering it.

“I get breaks.” You remind him. But it’s true you don’t get them often. Even when Dieter travels, he brings you with him. He likes having you close and it’s not something you are completely opposed to. Spending months in Croatia or China is amazing. You reach over and brush his hair back and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for eating your salad.”

He loves the praise and hates that he loves it. His life is messy and the last thing he wants to do is lose you because he ruins it with his personality. At least like this you’re at a distance. “Fucking lettuce.” He grumbles and takes another bite, tilting his cheek out so he can get another kiss.

You grin against his skin as you pepper his cheek with little kisses. You don’t mind when he’s like this. It’s sweet, even if it’s needy. Dieter so desperately wants love and for someone to adore him. He just manages to ruin every relationship he gets in when someone new shows up and showers him with attention. You know that it’s possible with your situation. You just have to deal with it.

Dieter loves the way you give him affection and he chews his salad after you pull away, he looks down at the salad, setting it down after a moment to dig into another taco. “Tacos are better.” He decides and watches as you dig into your own food.

“I know they are, baby.” He hates eating salads and you try to make it fun most of the time, but there’s no chance against tacos. “But this counterbalances the tacos. You’ve been doing so good at the gym. That sexy body needs the good stuff for all those fight scenes.”

Dieter has definitely had to put in time at the gym to make sure he’s getting in shape for this role. He had a nutritionist and personal chef come in for the past few months and he’s done pretty good building up his arms. “Yeah? You think I’ll look convincing?” He asks, eager for your approval of the body he’s been working out for.

“You’ll be amazing.” You promise him. “You already have a look that can be so authoritative, but put you in Roman armor?” You groan quietly and shake your head. “I thought Maximus was sexy, but your Marcus Acacius will blow him out of the water.”

Dieter flushes slightly, ducking his head at your praise, and he loves how you compliment him. “Yeah? You think I’ll be sexy in the costume?” He smirks, “and the sex scene.” He adds, “gonna watch me on the closed set?”

You knew there was a sex scene, but you didn’t think Dieter would want you there. “If you want me to.” You tell him. “I know that day will be a long one for you.”

Dieter nods, reaching for your hand after he wipes his clean. “I want you there. I always want you there.” He admits, “I just - you know me best in that department and I want to make sure it looks real, natural.”

You could point out that Dieter has had so many more lovers than you have, but you don’t. “You’re going to look even sexier then.” You promise. “They are going to create a new Oscar category just for you. Best Sex Scene.”

Dieter chuckles, “I fucking wish. I could win that every damn year.” He says with conviction, “especially if I was filmed with you.” He says and winks, picking up the salad to reluctantly finish it even with the dressing.

You hum in approval and quickly finish your own taco before you pat his leg gently. “Let me go get you packed up so we can leave, baby.” You murmur. “You don’t want to be late with Wardrobe.”

Dieter nods, watching you get up and his eyes drop down to your ass again as you make your way into his room to get what he needs. You do everything for him and he can’t ever pay you enough for putting up with his shit.

Less than an hour later, you have Dieter loaded up in the car and you are headed to the studio where you will be filming the fight scenes. Some of the location work will be later but they want to get the fights filmed first to give them plenty of time to work on the CGI. Dieter decided to let you drive so he could read over the script again. “Don’t worry. While you are with wardrobe, I’ll get the key to your trailer. We can take a picture outside with your name on it for you IG.”

Dieter sighs, he hates social media but he knows it’s needed for him to keep himself relevant when his industry is suddenly flooded with fucking Tik Tok stars and IG models. “Sure.” He adjusts his sunglasses on his nose as he reads over the script, “you really think the voice is right?”

“That voice went straight to my pussy.” You admit, knowing that confession will give him a smug grin. He likes knowing when something turns you on. “Yeah?” His normal voice instantly changes to the once he had practiced for Marcus and you make sure to squirm in the driver’s seat a little. “Yeah, it’s good. Panties around the world will explode.”

Dieter smirks, imagining the reaction with his fans but he doesn’t care about their panties exploding when he only wants yours to explode. Sure, it helps his career to still be considered a sex symbol but he wants you to want him more than any woman thirsting on Twitter.

You giggle quietly to yourself, guiding the car to the studio and you get parked. “Okay. Do you want to see the trailer first and figure out where it is? I can get it set up while you are in wardrobe?”

“Yeah. I wanna see if they gave me a good one or if they put me in the fucking back again.” He had a meltdown when his trailer was at the very end of the lot on his last project. He’s a fucking Oscar winner not someone doing their first fucking movie. You nod and he gets out while you gather the bags with his things. He doesn’t ask if you need help. That’s never really been his nature so you carry the bags to the trailer that’s been assigned as his. “First row. Now that’s more fucking like it.” He declares as he claps his hands.

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and follow him into the trailer. It’s perfectly clean and sterile in that brand new kind of way and it will bother Dieter if it stays that way for too long. “I’ll get all this set up to your liking.” You promise.

Dieter looks around before his eyes find yours again, "that would be awesome." He declares, "oh and get me some Kit Kats. You know I love snacking on those ever since Cliff Beasts." He shivers slightly at that movie. Something he took in the desperation of the pandemic when he was stuck at home alone and was losing his mind.

“Kit Kats.” You nod and walk up to him, sensing that he needs a little affection. You caress his cheek and press your lips to his. “You are going to be amazing.” You promise him. “We will make sure this is the best film shoot you’ve ever had.”

Dieter appreciates you and he sighs, “I better get to costume to try everyone on.” He hates costume design but he needs to get there since it’s his time and they will need to do adjustments. “I better go, babe.” He kisses your cheek and exits the trailer, disappearing while you sort out his trailer.

You run and get the KitKats and make four more trips from the car for the bags of stuff for Dieter’s trailer. Stripping the basic sheets off the bed, you replace them with the Egyptian cotton ones that are 2500 thread count, which he loves. Shoving the pillows that were on the bed into a small compartment because he prefers down alternative pillows and putting the soothing weighted blanket over it all. The candle and incense is already burning and there’s a whiff of sage still, letting Dieter know that you’ve done all the things he claims helps clear his mind and calm him down. The basket full of KitKats next to the room temperature San Pellegrino bottles that he prefers when his throat hurts. The small refrigerator is stocked with other drinks and you look around satisfied that he will be comfortable.

Dieter stares at himself in the mirror in his costume and he smirks, knowing you’re going to lose your mind when you see the armor on his body. It’s surprisingly heavy and he didn’t think they’d use metal but they have. He likes the weight of it, it helps him get into character a bit more. The costume designers take notes on adjustments and he changes back, making his way to his trailer. “Fuck. You are amazing.” He compliments as you fluff the pillows you brought from his home.

You hum in delight and turn back to look at him. “That’s what I’m here for.” You motion to the trailer. “Think you can decompress here?”

He nods, groaning as he lays down on the bed. “Come here.” He opens his arm to invite you to lay with him and you follow his order, making him sigh and he shifts to curl around you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He confesses, burying his face in your neck.

“Be late.” You tease, stroking his side and chest and you let him hold you. “Wear the same thing for a week and eat nothing but tacos.” You enjoy taking care of Dieter and for all his selfishness, you appreciate the moments like this where he acknowledges everything you do for him. “How did costume fitting go?” You ask, sensing that he’s in a pretty mellow mood so it must have been good.

Dieter loves how you touch him and he nuzzles into your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “It went well. They just have to do some minor adjustments. I- I am worried that I look - that I’m too old to do this part. The fighting. Will I look believable?” He asks, a frown on his face as he pulls back to look at you.

“Completely believable.” You promise, reaching up to run your fingers through the longer curls that he’s grown out for this role. “You will look like the war-hardened general. Experienced and trained by years of fighting.” You remind him. “Generals have wisdom. They’ve experienced heartache and lost men. They are supposed to have some gray in their hair and beards.” You bring your fingers down to scratch through his facial hair, knowing how much he likes that. “They might have to add some more. You don’t have quite enough to be that salt and pepper look, if that’s what they want. You’re gonna win another Oscar. I just know it.”

Dieter loves how confident you are in his abilities and that makes him feel more secure, makes him a better actor. “Thank you.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “You - I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He murmurs, closing his eyes. You hum, continuing to stroke his hair until he blurts out, “I want Chinese for dinner.”

You are so used to the way that Dieter suddenly shifts gears that it’s nearly automatic. “The fancy or the nasty?” You ask, wondering if he’s wanting the upscale Chinese fusion place or the tiny little hole in the wall that makes the best egg rolls you’ve ever eaten in your life.

He ponders it for a second, “the nasty.” He offers you a smirk. “The greasy egg rolls. The fried rice.” He groans at the thought, “then tomorrow I’ll be good. I’m training tomorrow.” He tells you like you don’t know his schedule off by heart.

“Sword training.” You agree. “Bright and early at seven.” He groans pitifully and pouts at the early morning call. “I’ll make sure that you have a powerful protein smoothie first thing.”

Dieter groans, “smoothies and sword training. Seven? Fuckkkkk.” He moans and curls around you again. “Baby baby baby. Let’s go back to mine and then we can get dirty Chinese food and then I can eat my dessert.” He smirks, sliding his down between your legs to cup your cunt through your leggings.

“Yeah?” You moan quietly, always loving how his large hands feel on your body. “We can call and pick it up on the way.” You don’t call it home, because technically you don’t live with him although you spend most nights at his house. “Maybe a bath after and I can rub your back before you fall asleep.”

“Fuck you spoil me. I gotta call Sally and tell her to give you a damn raise.” He groans, telling you he wants his manager to make sure you’re looked after. He presses his fingers against your clit through your leggings, wanting to hear you moan again.

You don’t bite your lip, knowing that Dieter doesn’t want you to suppress your sounds. He’s always greedy for the sounds you make, greedy for the approval. His fingers press insistently against your bundle of nerves expertly. “Dee, baby, that feels so good.” You praise breathlessly.

He loves hearing your praise. He’s greedy for it and he hisses when you lean in to kiss his jaw. His fingers continue to press against your bundle of nerves, pressing and rubbing, wanting you to fall apart for him.

“Dee, baby.” You arch your hips up under his hand, grinding your clit down against his fingers. “You’re gonna make me cum. Fuck, I’m going to ruin these panties.”

He wants to hear your sweet cry. He groans, hardening in his pants, “I’ll buy you more.” He promises, continuing to rub you through the material. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Want to hear those sweet fucking moans.” He urges you on.

It doesn’t take long when Dieter wants to make you cum. He’s a skilled enough lover to have learned you, since you’ve slept with him so much. You hold onto his arm, gasping in pleasure until your toes curl. “Deeeeee!” You cry out, closing your eyes when the wave of pleasure washes over you and heat fires through your core.

He hisses when your thighs squeeze his hand, keeping him trapped there while you squirm through your orgasm. “Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum.” He coos, watching you with fascination.

You doubt that. Sometimes you are a little disbelieving that he finds you sexy, but you understand that he might want you to think that so you continue to sleep with him. Whining drowsily, you pull him close and press your lips to his. “Do you want to break in this bed now or go home?”

Dieter smirks against your lips, "come on baby. Let's do it. Break in the bed then we will get Chinese food." It sounds like a fantasy he's jerked off to thinking about you. He is already hardening in his pants and he groans when you reach down to squeeze his bulge. "How do you want me?" He asks, "cowboy? doggy? waterfall? little dipper? the socket?" He lists off positions with raised eyebrows.

You squeeze his cock again and then slide your hand under the waist band to wrap around his shaft. Dieter moans and he twitches in your hand. “How do you want me?” You ask. “You know it’s the Big Dipper with this cock.” You tease, knowing how much he loves being praised for how big he feels inside you. “Do you want to fuck me? Or have me do the work?”

Dieter loves to be a pillow prince but right now, he wants to fuck you. "Strip off and lay on your side." He demands, his voice lowering as his cock twitches at the thought of sliding inside of you. You're so hot and wet, like fucking velvet, and you make his toes curl.

You have no problem stripping for him, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count. Pulling your bra down your arms, you toss it to the floor after pulling your shirt off and quickly strip down the leggings and ruined panties. “Are you going to fuck me wearing clothes or are you stripping too?”

Dieter wants to be naked too. He loves being naked. He would spend all weekend naked if he could. He shuffles off the bed and scrambles to pull his shirt over his head, shoving his sweats down to expose his hard cock. You lay down and he shifts to lay behind you, reaching down to grip his cock. He pumps himself a few times, "lift your leg, baby. I want to slide inside that wet pussy."

Lifting your leg gives him the access he wants and you reach back for his hip. Wanting to touch him as he rocks his hips forward. “It’s so wet.” You promise. “I need you inside me, Dieter.”

He shuffles closer, notching himself at your entrance as he pushes into you. "Fuckkk." He groans as your walls envelop him and he pushes deeper until he's nudging your cervix. "Fuck. So fucking wet." He lets go of his cock and grabs your leg, gripping it to keep it elevated.

“Shit.” Your body lights up when he pushes inside you. Taking him up on his offer of sex about four months after you started working for him had been the best decision you ever made. You squeeze your tits and moan, clenching down around him. “Feels so fucking big, baby. You fill me up perfectly.”

Your praise makes him twitch inside you. He loves it when you praise him, it makes his heart flutter and his stomach clench. "Fuck, you're so tight. Tightest little pussy I've ever fucked." He confesses and he has lost count of how many sexual partners he has had. He hadn't ventured out of your bedroom since a few weeks after you started sleeping together. He has become addicted to your body and he can't keep away from your bed. His fingers squeeze your flesh as he starts to rock into you.

You lean your head back against his shoulder and moan. “Easy to say when-“ you gasp when he pushes deep. “Your fat cock makes anything tight.” Your hand reaches back to caress his face, knowing how much Dieter loves to be stroked and caressed while fucking. “God baby, you just ruin me.” You honestly don’t know how you will get over losing the sexual part of your relationship when Dieter gets bored, but you know it will come eventually. Hell, you’re surprised it hasn’t already happened if you’re honest with yourself. But regular sex is something Dieter craves and you have never turned him down, your own sex drive is pretty high.

Dieter loves the praise, fuck, he loves hearing the way he makes you feel spill from your lips. His thrusts become harder and he hisses when you clench around him. “Fuck.” He groans and turns his head to kiss your palm, his other arm is trapped beneath you but he doesn’t care.

You feel that need in the frantic push of his hips. He’s craving the closeness he feels from sex and you push your ass back, encouraging him. “Yes baby, need this. Needed you to fuck me.” You pant. “Always need it.”

He grips your leg, shifting it more towards your stomach and he groans at the new angle. You’re so much tighter like this. “Fuck baby. You - you’re the best. The fucking best.” He murmurs, kissing along your shoulder.

The weight of him on top of you presses you into the bed, making it harder to push back against him, but you just squeeze him tight every time he thrusts back into you. “Deeeee.” You whine, loving the angle of his cock battering against your cervix. He feels like he’s in your guts when he pushes his hope forward. “Fuck baby, that cock is soooooo good.”

Dieter shifts his hips again, trying to find that spot inside you that makes you scream his name. He wants the entire fucking studio to know who is fucking you like this. He groans when you squeal on his best thrust and he focuses on that spot, wanting you to cum for him.

He’s demanding today. Your moans and squeals come easily, fingers gripping the covering on the bed. You’ll have to make it again later, but you don’t care. He feels amazing pounding into you against that spot. “Dee- Dieter- I’m- I’m gonna-“ you pant, trying to talk while he’s fucking you but it’s nearly impossible. “Oh shit!” You scream, clamping down around his cock when you feel the pressure suddenly reach its peak.

The way you gush around him has him panting as he tries to work himself into your cunt as you grip him like a vice. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, pushing deep. He’s never been great at stamina without drugs so sober, he’s thrusting into you a half dozen more times until he’s painting your walls with his cum.

You groan softly, feeling the hot pulse of his cum filling you. You have an IUD, and Dieter has regular STI testing for insurance reasons and you love that he feels comfortable enough to not use protection with you. “That’s it baby, that’s it.” You reach back and hold his head, wanting to touch him as he rides out his orgasm and collapses on top of you with a breathless huff.

“Fuck. I really don’t pay you enough.” He chuckles breathlessly. “Best fucking pussy in L.A.” He compliments while he’s drunk on his orgasm and he kisses your shoulder, enjoying the feel of your hot cunt wrapped around his softening cock.

You snort at his comment and relax against the pillow. It could be ten minutes or an hour before Dieter moves but you always love the way he collapses into you bonelessly. “If I charged you for my pussy, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

Dieter snorts, “probably not.” He doesn’t deny that. Sure, he’s had sex workers in his bed before but you are his assistant and there’s an emotional connection he hasn’t found before. He’s addicted to it and he can’t let you go. He is excited to start this new project with you by his side.

****

“Dieter has an interview at twelve that day, so that shouldn’t be a problem.” You tap a pencil against your notepad as you pour over his schedule. “As long as he doesn’t go over we can make it to the studio by four and then have him ready.” His manager is on the other side of the zoom call, video feed in the corner of your computer, wanting to squeeze in a late night talk show to talk about the movie being released next month, while also teasing about this movie. “Will that work for them?”

“Yeah. We can make that work.” His manager and his PR team agree and you add it to his schedule. “We can also get him on that podcast in the next week, if he has a gap. It’s about sexual exploration and of course people know he is quite active. I think it will develop some big hit content. As long as he doesn’t talk about drugs.” His manager sighs.

“He’s been doing a lot better.” You remind them. “Working out for this film is doing wonders for him, even if he complains. He’s just smoking a little weed on the off days.” You look over his schedule again. “On Thursday he is supposed to have a half day of shooting, if we can reschedule his meeting with the accountant, he could do the podcast then?”

His manager hums and looks over the PR team who nods, confirming it with the podcast booker. “That will work. So that’s his schedule for the next month. Thanks for all your hard work. I know he’s not the easiest to handle.” His manager snorts just as Dieter opens the door to his trailer. He’s still in costume, covered in fake blood and dirt and he’s exhausted. He slumps onto the sofa with a groan.

“Okay, I’ll get back with you all later.” You promise, closing out the Zoom call and turning to look over at Dieter. It’s the first time you’ve properly seen him in costume and your mouth drops open. “Holy shit.” You hiss, clenching your thighs together as you take in the raw, rough and frankly sexy view of Dieter as a Roman general.

Dieter doesn’t notice your interest in his costume, rubbing his forehead as he is hot from the fighting. He’s exhausted. It’s been days of trying to get the scene just right. Including more takes than he’s ever known to cover the reaction of the crowd, of the emperor, of his lover in the stands. “It’s been a long fucking day.” He whines, opening one eye to look at you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is a little raspy, making you clear your throat as you sit up straighter and bite your lip. “It’s been a long day, baby?” You ask, wishing for a moment that Dieter was a method actor that stayed in character. Wanting to hear that voice he had developed for Marcus Acacius while he’s wearing that costume. “You need me to take care of you?”

He opens both eyes and smirks, seeing the way your eyes drop down to his costume. “Does this do it for you?” He asks slyly, standing up from the sofa and he brushes his costume down. His voice deepens as he asks you, “you want me to fuck you wearing this?” Instantly interested in this visceral reaction from you. 

You shiver slightly, his voice changing to the authoritative tone he had practiced with you. His eyes are hardening as he looks at you. “Yes.” You admit immediately. “We can- I can ride you.” You offer, cunt dripping at the thought.

His cock hardens in his briefs under the tunic and he stiffens his spine, wanting to enjoy this role play with you. “Stand up and strip. I want to see you.” He demands, “I want to see what the emperor has gifted me for winning my battle.”

Shit. A whimper escapes you, biting your lip even harder when he slips into role play as he watches you expectantly. You reach for your shirt and drag it over your head to drop to the floor. Wishing you had worn a dress today. “Too bad they aren’t using me as an extra.” You moan. “Pulling off a Roman dress would be sexy.”

“Fuck. I could ask wardrobe for an extra.” He says as his eyes take in your tits and he breaks character for a moment. When you’re naked in front of him, he straightens his back again. “Kneel before your general and tell him your sins.” He demands, “tell him what your weeping pussy yearns for that angers the gods.” His voice is deep and authoritative.

You have no idea if that is anything remotely like a Roman general would say, but you are quick to drop down to your knees in front of him. You bow your head, feigning embarrassment, and there might be a little of the genuine emotion mixed in. Your reaction to his costume is so physical. “You, general.” You moan quietly. “I wish for the general to take his frustrations out on my body. To use my cunt.”

Dieter knows he should be more like a general but he wants to tease you since you’re turned on by this display. By his character. “You’re nothing but a servant. You are nothing to men like me. Someone to fetch my wine and let me fuck your cunt. You want to please your general?” He asks as he reaches down to pull his hard cock from his briefs. He pumps himself and shifts closer to you, “you’re going to suck my cock.” He demands, “and pray the gods forgive you for your lust.”

It’s demeaning and sexy because most of the time Dieter is a whiny, submissive mess who does what you say, but right now he’s in charge. Except he’s not Dieter Bravo, not completely. He’s his character, Marcus Acacius. You open your mouth immediately, your cunt clenching when he pushes the head of his cock onto your tongue and past your lips. Making you moan as you close your eyes. He’s a little salty from sweat but that only adds to the little scene he’s acting out.

He groans as you take him into your mouth but it’s not enough. He reaches down to grab the back of your neck. “You’re not taking my cock like a hungry, needy, little whore. Show me how much you fucking want it.” He demands, rocking his hips to push deeper into your mouth.

You gasp and sputter around his cock, loving the almost ruthless way he is pushed down your throat. You swallow around him, making him groan and you feel your pussy start to drip onto the floor of the trailer. The scene is obscene and you love it, eyes watering as you look up at his ‘dirty and bloody’ face.

His brow is furrowed as he watches you, makeup on his face making him look fierce and he hisses when you swallow around him. “Fuck. Look at you. I bet your cunt is dripping onto the floor, isn’t it? Knowing you are sucking the cock of a general. Someone you’d never be able to be near unless you’re pouring my wine or taking my cock.” He chuckles breathlessly, slapping your cheek.

Your body shivers in goosebumps and you whimper around him. Your nipples are hard and aching and you want to reach between your thighs to rub your clit, but you want to prolong the pleasure. Saliva is dripping down your chin and you bob your head eagerly as you moan around him again. So turned on that you feel like you might cum right now.

Dieter twitches in your mouth, loving the roleplay. It's not really been something that he has explored due to his occupation. "Fuck. Your mouth is the Elysian Fields. Shit. Taking it so well." He compliments you, bending over you to squeeze your breast.

You hollow your cheeks, pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock. Moaning around his length again as your saliva slick jaw works to take him deeper. Wanting to see how long he can last in your mouth before he is pulling out to fuck you.

"Fuck. I - I don't want to-" He loses his character for a moment as he pulls out of your mouth, "I want to fuck you. Get on the bed and show me how much this little slut wants a general to fuck her." He demands, his cock slick with saliva and he wants to cum inside you.

You love the tone and honestly, it’s a little bit of a turn on to hear him call you a slut like that. Dieter doesn’t usually ever use derogatory names unless he’s talking about himself, but this is sexy. You want him to fuck you from behind, but you want to see the costume. Climbing on the bed and spreading your legs wide while you are on your back, you wait for him to react.

Dieter bites his lip, watching your chest heave and he chuckles at how eager you are for him to fuck you like this. “Look at you. Fucking dripping onto the sheets. Hungry for this General’s cock.” He mocks you as he stands at the end of the bed. He grabs your thighs, dragging you down to the edge of the bed. “You’re going to take whatever I give you.” He orders and grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance before he pushes inside you in one thrust.

Your cry is loud and you don’t care who hears you. It’s not unusual for cast and crew to hear the sounds of sex coming from Dieter’s hotel room or trailer so no one ever expects any less from him. The snap of his hips is more aggressive and your cunt clenches down around him in pleasure as your fingers twist in the sheets. “Fuck- fuck yes!”

He can see how desperate you are for him to fuck you and he loves it. He focuses on being his character, imagining how roughly he’d fuck someone with adrenaline from the battle racing through him. “Fuck you’re so tight. Such a good little whore for me.” He praises as he grabs your legs and straightens them against his body so he can feel even bigger inside you.

Your eyes roll back because of the angle. His cock pushing deeper and kissing your womb. It pinches slightly but the pleasure overwhelms any pain. “G-gods!” You manage, finding it hard to think about anything but how fucking fierce he looks over you. His brows are pinched together and it makes him look furious, adding to the effect of the costume.

His body is still covered in fake dirt and blood, sweat beading on his forehead, and he looks down as your tits jiggle with each move and your mouth is open in pleasure. If you were a Roman god, you’d be Venus. “Taking my cock. Taking your general’s cock like a good slut. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you? Bet you sat there wet and waiting for me to come back from battle. Fuck you hard and make you cum after my frustration in battle.” He grunts, squeezing your legs as he rocks impossibly harder.

You moan and nod. “Yes, General.” You pant out, reaching up and squeezing your left tit as he fucks you. “Waiting for you to come back. Thinking of you.” Your pussy is gushing and Dieter is playing up the part beautifully. You had never thought of role play with him before but it’s perfect.

Your gushing cunt has his cock sliding in and out of you with ease and his skin slaps against your thighs. “Fuck. So good. Feel so fucking good.” He groans and squeezes your calves. He hisses and slaps your flesh, “you gonna be a good girl for your general? You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” You gasp out, knowing that will be easy to do. “Dee- general.” You moan, correcting yourself when he squeezes your thigh and grunts in disapproval when you almost say his name. He obviously likes playing the general right now and you will oblige him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He wants to see it, hear it, feel it. He groans your name and slaps your thigh, wanting you to fall apart around him. You pant, getting closer and your walls flutter around his cock. “That’s it. That’s it.” He grunts, sliding his hand lower to rub your clit. “Cum for me.” He demands, wanting to hear it, “cum for your general.”

He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare. It's so goddamn sexy and powerful that the sight of it makes you cum. Your cry is strangled, caught in your throat while your body bucks and heaves under him. Soaking his cock and you vaguely hope you don't ruin his costume as you fall apart.

You clamp down on his cock and your cry has to be heard on the entire lot as you soak his cock. "Fuck, you are - shit. Good girl. Such a good little whore for me. Gonna fill you up now. Don't care if you get knocked up. Will make sure you are looked after by the Emperor." He promises, still in character. "Fuck, I'm gonna - gonna cum." He pants, clenching his eyes as he pushes into you, thrusting a half dozen more times before he can't hold off. He pushes deep as he starts to cum, a whine escaping his lips as he breaks character.

You moan softly, watching his face relax and he literally changes from the character he was portraying to the actor that you work for and sleep with. His shoulder slump and his eyes shift back to a more soulful gaze, glazed over with pleasure as he rocks his hips forward to push every drop of cum into your pulsing walls. “Fuck, Dee.” You can’t help but giggle, your entire body tingling from the pure adrenaline of your orgasm. “That was- is your sex scene going to be like that?”

Dieter inhales deeply, his spine tingling from the orgasm, and he snorts, shaking his head as he looks down at you. "No. No. Fuck." He shakes his head, trying to get control of himself after some great fucking sex. "It's gonna be boring. She rides me, her naked, me in armor." He tells you and you nod, "not like this." He caresses your legs, "not like this."

You hum, smirking slightly and you reach down to caress the armored chest of his costume. “Well then, why don’t I ride you in your costume before you film, so you can imagine I’m the one on top of you?” You suggest, not even remotely upset by the idea of fucking him again like this. Your pussy clenches down around his softening cock. “Anything I can do to help you.”

Dieter smirks, "Jesus, you'll have me hardening in the damn sock thinking about you but fuck...I can bring the costume back to the trailer another day." He decides and reaches for your hand to kiss your palm. "Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks softly, knowing you deserve to know how he feels.

Dieter says he loves you all the time, most often after you do something for him he had expected you to refuse. It’s glib and flippant, not real so you don’t ever tell him how it hurts you when he does because you know he doesn’t love love you. “I could stand to hear it more.” You admit, heart twisting and you cup his cheek when he puts your hand against it. “Because I love you too.”

Your adoring gaze makes his heart flutter and he’s reminded once again how he cannot live without you. You’re his rock and you keep him on track, not letting him spiral when things go wrong. He sighs, “not like I want you to” and lets go of your hand to pull out of you. He can’t say how he really feels and he dejectedly tucks his cock away.

The ever shifting moods of Dieter reminds you that he isn’t yours and you decide to just giggle to cover the flare of hurt. “Of course not.” You hum. “That wouldn’t fit your reputation.” You sit up and reach for a towel. “Do you want a snack?” You ask, moving back into caretaker mode.

Dieter watches you shuffle off the bed, reaching for your panties and he sighs, “you don’t get it. I don’t mean- whatever. It’s whatever.” He huffs and decides to head back onto set and find himself something to drink.

You frown when he leaves the trailer before you can put yourself back together. Wondering why he seems so shiftless right now, if he’s feeling guilty about something. You know that he’s not great at expressing himself and sometimes acts out like a child would. He doesn’t like being emotionally vulnerable. You decide to go to the set and see if you can help him.

Dieter is nursing a black coffee when you arrive on set and he is sitting, waiting for the other actors to come back from their break. You walk over to him and he stares at the cup in his hand. “Sorry for - for that.” He manages to get out like it’s painful to say.

“Don’t worry about it.” The last thing you need is for Dieter to think you are mad at him. He needs to concentrate on the scenes being filmed today and hopefully by the time he’s done, whatever is upsetting him will have passed. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much this morning.” His blood sugar might be low. “I brought you a Kit Kat.” You pull the candy bar out of your bag and offer it to him.

He looks up at you in surprise and takes the chocolate, undoing the wrapper after you take his coffee and he groans as he chews it, not realizing how hungry he was. You stand there in silence and Dieter hands you the wrapper after the AD calls for everyone to return to set. He inhales deeply, mentally shifting into his character.

You sit in the chair he vacated, that is still warm from him sitting there. Watching as he takes his mark and his co-stars also get into position. It’s always interesting to watch Dieter work, the truth in the saying that all artists are slightly mad being very true. You think he is amazing.

Dieter grunts as soon as the director calls action, working on remembering his blocking and the choreography. People think that acting is easy, that it doesn't take a lot, but Dieter's life has been acting and it's exhausting physically and mentally. He gets lost in his character as he works his way through the scene.

You have memorized the lines and the action sequences. Seeing the hard work he has been putting in come to life as he goes through the scenes. Sometime they cut and reset, but you are so impressed and fucking turned on by his competence in this role, it makes you press your thighs together.

Dieter is sweating when he finishes his scene and he strides off set when the director calls cut, taking the bottle of water you have ready for him. He desperately wants a shower so he's relieved when the director calls it for the day and he hands you the water bottle. "Need a damn shower and some weed." He declares, walking off set and you follow him.

You know that he’s tired so you don’t try to talk to him. Just follow him back to the trailer and you pick up his costume as he strips it off, taking it back to wardrobe as he gets into the shower. His comfy sweats and crocs are set out and you have ordered dinner to be delivered to the house by the time you get there.

Dieter stands under the water, eyes closed as he tries to imagine his life when he’s older. He will be too old to be a movie star, too old to be considered another more than a washed up legend. His legacy will be his Oscar and nothing else. He hates the idea of not having anything else written in his eulogy. He hates the thought of being alone. He imagines if he gets the balls to say how he feels about you. Sure, he’s not conventional but he loves you. You don’t care about the fame or the money. You see him, you know him. He imagines being old, watching his kids grow up with you beside him. He wants that. He just needs to tell you for real and hope you don’t crush his crumbling heart in your hands.

Once you’ve returned the costume, you pick up the changes to the script and the blocking for tomorrow, going back to the trailer to pack up the bag you always carry for Dieter. He’s still in the shower, which is a little unusual but you just think that he’s sore. You’ll offer to give him a massage once he’s smoked a little and relaxed. It’s been a long day.

Dieter finally turns off the shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel around his waist. He washes the makeup from his face with the organic cleanser you get him and he comes out to find you waiting for him. “Shit.” He hisses, rubbing his eyes, “I just know I’m gonna lose you.” He admits, trying to ignore how fucking pretty you look waiting for him.

You frown, not sure what the hell he is talking about. “Are you okay?” You ask, stepping closer to him and wondering if he might have taken something without you knowing. He's been doing so good with not taking random pills, but this is Dieter. “You aren’t going to lose me unless you wander off.” You joke playfully, reaching out and touching his arm.

He flinches and shakes his head, “no. No. You’re gonna go and all because I can’t control- I can’t stop thinking - fuck!” He yells and you jump, making his frown deepen. “There’s - it’s just all in my head bouncing around all the damn time.” He admits, waving his hands around his wet curls, “you’re gonna leave because you don’t - it’s gonna ruin everything but I can’t stop myself.” He admits and you frown, shaking your head, “Dieter. What’s wro-?” You don’t get to finish before he blurts out, “I’m in love with you!”

Your mouth drops open slightly, shocked by his outburst. His eyes are filled with sorrow, grief. As if you’ve already rejected him. “Dee…” he shakes his head “I knew it.” He mumbles and you step closer. “Know what?” You ask, tilting your head. “That I’m in love with you too? That I’m scared that you’ll find someone else? That you’ll be bored?” You ask, voice shallow and fearful. “Because that’s all true.”

Dieter stares at you in shock, thinking for a second that he’s high or this is some dream. He swallows harshly and reaches for his towel, dragging it from his body. “Dieter.” You whisper in confusion and he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “I’m yours. All of me is yours and I stand in front of you now naked and totally exposed, physically and emotionally. I’ve been in love with you for - well, since you started working for me but I think I told myself that I couldn’t indulge in you, couldn’t ruin you, until that first night we slept together and I - no one else came close to you. I love you and I want you. You’re the only person I can ever see myself growing old with.” He admits, his heart pounding under your palm.

You bite your lip and your eyes fill with happy tears. “I always worried that you would move on. That I wasn’t enough.” You admit softly. “But I want you. Perfectly flawed you. I think you are amazing and I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, Dieter.”

Dieter offers you a soppy smile when he realizes you feel the same way. “You are - Jesus. Seriously?” He asks and you nod, offering him a soft smile as you reach up with your other hand to cup his cheek. “I love you.” He declares before he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips, throwing your arms around him and dragging him closer. He loves you. He’s whiny, sometimes annoying and always needy, but he loves you. You pour yourself into the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest.

His fingers dig into your waist as he pulls you against him, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he lets it sink in that you love him. “Wanna- wanna grow old with you. Well, older.” He says when you pull back and he points at himself, his wrinkles that he’s insecure about.

Leaning in, you press your lips to the wrinkles and smile at him when you pull back. “Only if you’re willing to steal your costume after you finish shooting.” You joke, kissing him again.

Dieter chuckles, “now that I can agree to.” He promises, caressing your back. “Definitely going to steal that one to take home.” He promises, “for now though…let’s go home and have dinner before I spend all night making love to my girlfriend.” He nudges his nose against yours.

“I ordered dinner to be delivered,” you tell him as you pull back and smile at him. “We’ll smoke a little and then I’ll ride you before rubbing your back.” You tell him the plan as you turn around to reach for his clothes. “How does that sound, baby?”

“Fuck, you really are my soulmate.” He murmurs, looking at you in awe. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He orders, slapping your ass. “Uh, you might want to get dressed.” You say and he chuckles, nodding as he grabs the sweats you laid out for him. “Don’t want anyone else seeing the goods. Yours and only yours.” He winks at you as he pulls his pants up and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head while he slides into his crocs. “Sports mode.” He jokes as he pulls the straps up over his ankle.

You roll your eyes, laughing at the complete dork that you love. He’s quirky in about a million ways and sometimes drives you crazy with his antics, but you don’t want him any other way. Especially if he’s going to roleplay a Roman general with you for the rest of your life. “Let’s go home, babe.” You tell him, grabbing the bag. “We’ll practice your sex scene until we get it right.”

“Fuck yes.” He cheers as you walk out of his trailer and he takes your hand, not caring about anything other than showing you how he feels about you. “Food, weed, then some crazy lovemaking.” He decides and squeezes your hand, “you know…I have a costume left over from Cliff Beasts we could try out.” He teases and you snort, “that’s just your robe. You used your own for the character.” Dieter smirks, “could be sexy if we roleplay it the right way.” He suggests, “these cliff beasts are so large-a.” He does his accent and you sigh, “I hate that that works on me.” Dieter grins, “gonna be a damn good life together, baby.” He declares and you giggle, “yeah it is, Bravo.”

[somerandomdudelmao]

I think the thing I keep coming back to is not the enormity of their love it's the mmmm. Consistency maybe? I'm not sure that's the right word.

It's the way it manifests, right? Because of course they love each other, they're family, they're each others whole heart. Of course Mikey will sacrifice his youth to burn the kraang out of Casey. Of course Raph would give the generator at his heart to keep Leo and Mikey and Casey safe. Of course Leo would stay behind with Mikey in a ruined world. Of course Donnie would walk onto a battlefield half dead and fight the kraang off for his brothers. Of course Casey would break the laws of the universe to bring the four of them back.

Of course they would. Because they're each other's whole world. There's no ask that's too large. There's no task too impossible. There's no fight that's too dangerous. Of course they'd hand out these actions, these definitive declarations of love.

Because what other choice is there? When the options are do it or let your family suffer the answer is obvious. The answer is easy.

And those are wonderful ploy points, they're wonderful dynamics and moments and declarations. But they're not what I keep coming back to.

I keep coming back to Leo giving Mikey his hoodie when Mikey wants comfort. To Casey wrapping baby Leo in blankets. To April finding the Jupiter Jim movie and bringing it to watch with Donnie. To Donnie making Mikey young again. To Leo giving Casey piggyback rides, and swinging him around for fun. To Mikey letting Leo's scarf and tassels float with magic. To Donnie letting Casey lay on him. To Raph commiserating with Leo that Casey doesn't remember him. To Mikey comforting Raph when he lost his eye.

To Donnie showing Casey the rain.

Because when you love someone it's easy to give everything for them. To sacrifice yourself, your safety, your life. When the problem is "do something or watch them suffer, watch them die" there's no question to be asked. There's no alternative action to be taken.

But it's harder to remember to do the hundreds of insignificant things that are the actually important bits. The things that you dont have to do. Because no one will die if Mikey doesn't get Leo's hoodie. No one will be in danger if Leo's scarf doesn't blow in magical wind. No one would worry if Casey never saw the rain.

But they're love isn't just about saving each other or protecting each other. It's not about the sacrifice, it never has been.

It's about waking up each day, and spending each moment caring for someone so deeply that you take the time to find your old hoodie wherever it thrown last. Trusting someone so wholly that you share the ways you feel, even when you know there's nothing to be done about it.

Because in the end Casey wouldn't have known to miss the rain. He couldn't have cared either way about it. But Donnie wanted Casey to experience what he viewed as a small joy.

And I think that's what I've been circling for the last 500 or so words. The small joy. And the constant, consistent, never ending effort of creating that small joy for the ones you love. For comforting them. For making them smile.

And what I come back to, over and over, is that the huge moments, where it's all or nothing, when it's time to put everything on the line for those you love, means absolutely nothing unless it's backed by hundreds of thousands of moments where you sacrifice nothing more than a bit of time, or a bit of effort, or a bit of convenience. If you haven't spent your whole life doing the things that aren't a given, and aren't necessary.

Ohhh, it does things to my brain.

One thing I keep reminding myself of throughout the creation of a comic is consistency. I often want to twist some situation so that it's something new and surprising for the characters. You know, in terms of emotions and dynamics.

When Raph bot came home alive and Leo cried. A little voice inside me was saying "what if this is the first time Casey sees Leo cry? Show his reaction! Show how surprised he is!"

Or when Mikey levitates someone. "Come on, draw a surprised face. Levitation is surprising!"

All those little family moments. I keep reminding myself that they are not a group of strangers who become family. They are family. The family family. The familiest family ever jfjfbfhdksk

So instead of

"oh wow did he do that??"

it's

"well of course he did that."

It's about caring and giving and loving to the point where it's something naturally subconscious.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“So… what happens if Walter buys us out?” Timothy asks, a confused squiggle in his brow that hasn’t lessened for the entirety of the conversation.

“Well, we won’t be out on the street,” your mother says, “and your father will be taken care of. We can send him to The Gardens. He’ll be comfortable there… we can visit.”

You bite on your knuckle, gnawing anxiously. Timothy frowns and rubs his chin, a sparseness of new stubble there. He sniffs as he tries to unravel the riddle.

“Does that mean he’s my boss?”

“Well, more of a landlord,” your mom explains, “he’ll help with the farming and take his cut. If he does this, he’ll have to cut back at the mill. It’s a big sacrifice. For everyone.”

Timothy nods and drops his hand to twiddle against the table, “it sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah… it’s our only idea,” your mom murmurs.

“What are the terms?” You ask suddenly, hiding the ridged marks in your finger left by your teeth. “He’s going to let us pay rent? On a whole farm?”

“If the bank gives him good news,” she rubs her palms together, “I don’t know. We need more information but we can hope.” Her voice quavers as she brings the tissue back to her nose, “I only ever want to do what’s best for you two.”

“Ma,” you reach out to touch her elbow, “we can help. We’ll pull together. All of us, with or without Walter.”

“I hope we can,” she snivels and begins to weep again.

You look at Timothy. He looks gaunt. He’s absolutely terrified. No matter how hard you try, you can’t see him doing it himself. He isn’t ready to take over for your dad. You don’t know if he ever will be.

You turn back to your mom as her shoulders shake. She looks little better than Timothy and you bet, if you glanced in a mirror, you would be much the same. This can’t all fall on her. She’s had to deal with so much so far.

“Tim, what’s wrong with the truck?” You ask suddenly, your mother and brother flinching at the same time.

“What?” He stammers.

“What’s wrong with it? Is it running?”

“Yeah, kinda, it stalls out but you just gotta give it a few.”

“Ma, how long?”

“What?” She rasps.

“How long do we have? Without Walter, just us. How long do we have to figure this out?”

She lowers her head and takes a deep breath. Her voice cracks, “six months.”

You cringe and try to show the impact as her answer threatens to knock you over. You lay your hands gently on the table and stand. You leave them and go into the living room where your father sits, staring and still. You pull up the short footstool from in front of the couch and sit by him.

You’re silent as you watch him. His eyes are glazed, his features are slack and emotionless, he doesn’t even know you’re there. He is a ghost. You put your hand on his, begging him to smile, begging him to crack a joke. Your heart swells then shrinks down so small it hurts.

“Dad,” you whisper and squeeze his hand, “I love you.”

You stand and kiss his cheek. He doesn’t react. You see your mother in the doorway. She watches with arms folded but doesn’t say a word as you cross the room. Neither do you.

You pass into the hallway and march down to the front door. You slip your feet into your shoes and snatch the keys off the hook. Your mom always said you were a daddy’s girl and your dad always told you that no matter how shitty it is, you do what needs to be done for the family. At the end of the day, it’s the only thing you can count on.

You leave without looking back. A tremor rolls through you as you open up the garage. You just need the truck to make it there, that’s it. You climb in the front seat and twist the ignition, chanting desperate pleas until it catches. The engine rumbles and you hit the gas, surging out before you can think better of this.

Your mother watches through the window as you steer away from the house. You lean over the wheel as the headlights shine over the dark country landscape. You’ve never been up that way but you know where you’re going.

Tap, tap, tap. At first you panic, thinking the engine’s sputtering out. Then the droplets turn to rivulets and the rain pours down, streaming over the windshield as you flip on the wipers. You’re at the edge of the seat, clutching the wheel tight as the belt strains across your chest.

The tires suck in the mud as the countryside turns boggish. You rock with the truck as it chuffs over the slickening earth, slowing with the incline of the next hill. Not much further. Almost there.

There’s a sudden pop and a chortle that rattles the truck. You yipe as the engine putters out and the headlights dim. You feel the world rolling backwards. You yank on the emergency brake, the old Ford lurching to a halt. You slam your hands on the thin steering wheel and lean your head against the cool leather.

Just a little further.

You raise your head, looking forward at the black road then at the rearview at the void. You’ve come this far. You take the keys and pull on the handle, letting yourself out in the whipping rains. The cold shower soaks through you in an instant as you slip through the mud, arms pumping as you take the last of the hill in a half-sprint.

You’re gulping and gasping as you come in sight of a single light. A rectangle of yellow, the only beacon amid the storm. Your teeth chatter as you will yourself onward. Your feet splash and you tumble over the bumpy ground, staggering and stumbling towards the dark house.

You fall against the stairs and heave, shaking as you fight for air. You put your feet under you and push yourself up. You stamp onto the first step, then the next, and the next. You catch the door frame and heave as you hear noise from within.

You grip the handle of the screen door but before you can pull it back, the door within opens and amber light spills into the blackness. You stare through the mesh as Walter’s broad silhouette towers over you. You gasp up at him and touch the screen.

“I’m sorry,” you eke out through a shiver.

[villadiodatis]

Fantasy High Junior Year: level 10

As psyched as I am for the jokes and character moments we'll get with FHJY, I am a mechanics nerd at heart, so! Here is a preview of what awaits the Bad Kids when they hit Level 10. This assumes no one multiclasses into a new class.

Adaine

Adaine's level up is relatively simple: as a level 10 Divination wizard, she gets an ability called The Third Eye. Once per long rest, she can use her action to gain darkvision (not useful, since she already has it as an elf), see into the Ethereal Plane, read any language, or see invisible creatures/objects within 10 feet. This lasts until she is incapacitated or takes a short/long rest.

She will also learn an additional cantrip and get another 5th level spell slot, and she can add two new wizard spells of level 1-5 to her spellbook.

Fabian

Fabian could hit level 7 in fighter or level 4 in bard. At level 7, Battlemaster Fighters get an additional maneuver and superiority die, plus a feature called Know Your Enemy, which allows him to determine if other creatures he interacts with outside of combat are his equal, superior, or inferior in terms of ability scores, AC, level, and HP.

If he takes another level in bard (remember, he dances now!), he'll get a new cantrip, another 2nd-level spell slot, a new 1st or 2nd level spell, and an ability score improvement or feat. There are a million directions he could go with an ASI or feat, so I won't speculate here.

Fig

Fig will be either level 9 in bard or level 2 in warlock. As a 9th-level bard, she gets an additional 4th level spell slot, her Song of Rest goes from a d6 to a d8, and the big one: she gets a 5th-level spell slot. There are a few options here, but some that I think Emily could be absolutely devastating with are Dominate Person, Geas, Mislead, Scrying, Seeming, or one that I've seen make a lot of trouble in other actual plays, Modify Memory.

If she takes another level in warlock, she gets an additional warlock (1st-level) spell slot, another 1st-level warlock spell, and two Eldritch Invocations. There are also some that would be incredible for Fig--some that do things like strengthen her Eldritch Blast, but particularly Mask of Many Faces, which lets her cast Disguise Self without using a spell slot, or Misty Visions, which lets her cast Silent Image without using a spell slot. Fig may be getting more comfortable being herself, but she's still gonna find a way to cause trouble.

Gorgug

Gorgug could hit level 9 in barbarian or level 2 in artificer. If he goes with barbarian, he gains Brutal Critical, which means he gets to roll an extra damage die (d12 with his Heavy Metal Axe) whenever he scores a critical hit. Additionally, his Rage Damage bonus increases to +3.

If he goes with artificer, things get more complicated, and very fun. Level 2 artificers get Infuse Item--basically, he can create magic items. He'll be able to pick 4 infusions off of the table, and can have 2 infused items at a time. Some options that catch my eye: Enhanced Arcane Focus, Enhanced Defense or Weapon, Homunculus Servant, or Replicate Magic Item, which would let him make items like a bag of holding or rope of climbing.

Kristen

In addition to a second 5th level spell slot and a new cantrip, Kristen Applebees will get access to an incredibly exciting feature that I would bet money on Ally using in an insane, perfect story moment: Divine Intervention. By rolling a d100 and getting your cleric level or lower (so 1-10 for Kristen, a 10% chance) (D20 has done this as hitting a 19 or 20 on a d20), Kristen can ask Cassandra to intervene on her behalf in a way that Brennan decides. If you've seen The Seven, you may remember Ostentatia's successful Divine Intervention, when Logren shattered the aspect of fire, put a vein of mithral under Elmville, and ended Charity Blythe's Greater Invisibility. I am very eager to see what happens with it.

Riz

Riz's next level is very simple, but brings a lot of options. At level 10, rogues get an ability score improvement or feat. There are a lot of useful feats for rogues, and ASIs are always helpful, so frankly I won't even begin to speculate.

And of course, they may go in an entirely new direction, whether with homebrew, multiclass, or something I haven't thought of! I'm so excited to see where this goes, and I can't wait to see where the players bring these characters.

[sfhvn-alltheas]

An open letter to Netflix and for everyone who feels the same

I would like to apologize in advance for any linguistic errors, English is not my native language, but I will do my best to express my concerns appropriately.

I am reaching out to you to express my deep disappointment at your cancellation of Dead Boy Detectives. The news of your decision hit me hard and I would like to ask you to reconsider. I understand that Netflix is ​​a company that is about money, about numbers, about streams, about performance. It is a business and the decisions are based not on emotions but on lucrative fundamentals.

We all know that.

But this cannot work in the long term, not without an outcry from your viewers. Because what you do is selling dreams. You might not see us, but we are here, we are being absorbed into the alternative realities you have created. We live these dreams you sold us. 

You know this, you know that you mostly produce more than just mindless entertainment that is subsequently forgotten, and that is exactly why I feel so let down by you. You are aware that our hearts and souls are attached to these characters, that’s what you want and it totally makes sense. Because whoever is emotional involved stays long term. A show can be so many different things for different people: a place of well-being, comfort, escapism, distraction, mental support, self-discovery. Queer and inclusive programs in particular help people and make them feel seen, understood and accepted. A show can be the only light in a darkness that so many people find themselves in today. A show with their characters can save lives.

How then do only numbers decide whether something continues or not? 

You, as the producer of dreams, have a responsibility to us. Money and numbers should be secondary in your industry. Feel free to call me naive, I am, I like to be, I have to be in this world, but I believe in humanity, in the values ​​that you claim to represent. Not every show can bring in billions. Not all of them can be Wednesday, Squid Game or Bridgerton. Not within fourteen days, not without support. With your impatience, you are depriving great shows of the chance to grow and, over time, attract the viewership that meets your expectations. What I'm trying to express here isn't only about Dead Boy Detectives. It's a fundamental problem.

I am not okay with this

Julie and the Phantoms

The OA

The Society

1899

Six of Crows

Shadow and Bone

Archive 81

Lockwood & Co.

Glamorous

Half Bad: The Bastard Son & The Devil Himself

First Kill

Inside Job

Midnight Club

Warrior Nun

- just to name a few. All this shows have met the same fate, they all were cancelled too soon and never got the chance to grow, to become a next Stranger Things, the next slowburn success.

This has to stop! Imagine having cancelled Stranger Things after one season back in the days. What you would have missed! Instead, you give up on shows too easily without hesitation and disappoint the very people who could have been your allies in the effort to bring the next success.

I honestly don't understand that. And it's not fair either. Not to us, not to the creators and actors who gave their everything. You should trust them to be capable of creating something epic if only they had a little more time. 

I'll tell you how it is: The news that Dead Boy Detectives had been cancelled is devastating. My life pretty much sucks for a few years now and there is little to nothing that still brings me joy. A second season has been the only thing I've been looking forward to these past few months, the anticipation has been the reason I'm still here. You took that away from me. From all of us that are like me. Now I’m sitting here and write this letter, hoping to save the show that has given me so much confidence and joy and meaning, visibility and understanding that it's okay to be who I am. It's not fair that I have to fight to keep this precious show instead of enjoying it while I deal with the wreckage of my life. 

If you don't understand that what you're doing is impacting so many people, then maybe you shouldn't be selling dreams. Better sell electronics.

I won't stop fighting for what means so much to me. It's not too late yet, you can at least right the wrong you did with Dead Boy Detectives. Please do it, give Dead Boy Detectives another chance. We, the viewers, deserve it, the creators and actors deserve it, and most of all the show itself deserves it because it is the greatest thing I have seen in many years.

Thank you for your time and for considering my request.

[bloomingdayswithyou]

can I make a request for obey me? How the 7 brothers would flirt with a female mc? thanks!!!

How would the brothers flirt with MC

Author’s note: I usually would do only 3, but I couldn’t choose so I just did all of them <3

You can check pt. 2 with other characters here

1. Lucifer:

Lucifer's flirting style with mc includes a balance of refinement and intellectual charm. He values intelligence and elegance and appreciates those qualities on a person.

When flirting with her, Lucifer would often invite her to formal events, treating her like a lady. He would extend his arm for a graceful dance or engage her in sophisticated conversations during lavish parties.

Lucifer's compliments would focus on her intellect, wit, and ability to handle complex matters.

He would appreciate her for that, acknowledging her opinions and valuing her insights.

His admiration for her would manifest through thoughtful gestures, such as presenting her with rare books or inviting her to join him in discussions about literature, history or other topics.

In private moments, however, Lucifer might reveal his vulnerable side, opening up about the pressures of his role as the Avatar of Pride and expressing how mc’s presence brings him solace.

He might engage her in philosophical debates, relishing the intellectual simulation their conversations provide.

2. Mammon:

His flirtatious behavior towards mc is filled with playful banter and a hint of protectiveness.

He adores mc and is often torn between wanting to impress her and teasing her relentlessly.

He would refer to her as “Princess” or “Darlin’”, playfully using terms like these to establish a sense of familiarity and affection.

Mammon’s attempts at impressing her would involve flashy gifts or extravagant gestures. He might sweep her off her feet with surprises, like organizing a private fireworks display or reserving an entire amusement park for a day of exclusive fun.

Despite his nature, his possessiveness would become evident when other people show interest in mc. He would make it his mission to get all of her attention, constantly reminding her of his affection and playfully challenging anyone who dares to come close.

While his flirting includes teasing and cheeky compliments about mc’s appearance, he also has moments of vulnerability where he reveals his fears and insecurities.

Being the Avatar of Greed, he might struggle with self-stem and worry that he isn’t enough for mc.

In these moments, mc’s reassurance and genuine care would mean the world to him, and he would shower her with affection, showcasing his genuine feelings.

3. Leviathan:

Levi’s approach to flirting with mc revolves around their shared interests and virtual escapades.

He appreciates her understanding and acceptance of his passion for games and anime, finding solace in her presence.

When flirting, Levi would invite her to gaming sessions, exploring various virtual worlds together and experiencing thrilling adventures side by side.

He would discuss strategy and tactics with her, valuing her insights and appreciating her ability to think strategically.

Levi might recommend new games or anime that he thinks she would enjoy, taking pleasure in introducing her to his favorite titles.

In the virtual realm, he would be more confident and expressive, allowing their connection to flourish.

As their bond deepens, Levi might shyly confess his affection, expressing how grateful he is to have found someone who appreciates his hobbies and understands him.

He would reveal the extent of his vulnerability, sharing stories of his struggles with social interactions and the comfort he finds in their companionship.

In these moments, Levi’s affectionate side shines through, and he becomes more open and expressive about his feelings.

4. Satan:

His flirting style centers around intellectual and literary pursuits.

As an avid reader, Satan is drawn to her intellect and curiosity. He finds joy in their shared love for books and knowledge, viewing her as a kindred spirit.

When flirting, Satan would recommend books, poems, or thought-provoking articles that he thinks mc would appreciate, sparking engaging discussions between them.

They might spend time in the library together, exchanging ideas and delving into deep conversations about their favorite authors or literary theories.

Satan would value her insights and opinions, seeking her perspectives on various subjects. His compliments would focus on her intelligence, insightfulness, and the stimulating discussions they have.

His affectionate side would surface when they are alone, away from the prying eyes of his demon brothers.

In these private moments, he would reveal his vulnerabilities, sharing personal stories and embracing her as a trusted confidant.

He might express his gratitude for her presence in his life, describing how she brings balance to his sometimes chaotic emotions.

Satan’s flirting would Inter wine with profound conversations, creating a deep emotional connection between them.

5. Asmodeus:

Asmo would employ his instinct for glamour and beauty to captivate mc.

He finds joy in adorning others with his fashion expertise and takes pride in enhancing their appearance. When flirting, Asmo would offer fashion advice, helping her choose stylish outfits that accentuate her features and personality.

He might even design unique ensembles for her, showcasing his creativity and attention to detail.

Asmo would plan spa days or makeovers, pampering mc with luxurious treatments that make her feel like a queen.

He would compliment her on her beauty, highlighting her elegance and grace. As the Avatar of Lust, his flirtatious remarks would often revolve around her physical appearance, but he would also emphasize the beauty he sees within her, appreciating her inner radiance.

Beyond the superficial, Asmo is also caring and affectionate. He would create a safe space for mc, encouraging her to open up about her dreams, desires and insecurities.

He would showe her with compliments, recognizing her strengths and making her feel cherished and desired.

Asmo would revel in romantic gestures, believing that love should be celebrated and expressed in a bold way.

6. Beelzebub:

His flirting style revolves around shared meals and engaging in physical activities together.

He find comfort in their companionship and appreciates mc’s understanding of his insatiable appetite.

When flirting, Beel would invite her to try delicious foods, cooking for her or taking her to the best entries in the demon realm.

They might embark on culinary adventures, discovering unique flavors and bonding over shared gastronomic experiences. Beel might challenge her to eating contests, playfully competing with her while sharing hearty laughs.

Through these activities, he would express his desire to experience the hoys of life with her by his side.

In addition to this, Beel would encourage her to participate in physical activities like sports, workouts, our outdoor adventures.

He would cherish their time together and celebrate their shared interests. Beel’s flirtatious gestures would often be accompanied by his infectious laughter and warmth, creating and atmosphere of happiness and friendship.

7. Belphegor

Belphie’s flirtatious behavior towards mc is infused with humor, laziness, and a touch of mischief.

He often appears uninterested but secretly keeps an eye on her, observing her every move.

When flirting, Belphie would playfully tease her, pretending to be uninterested while dropping hints of his affection to catch her attention.

He might engage in witty banter, using his dry wit and sarcasm to make her laugh. Belphie would suggest fun and relaxed activities that cater to their shared laziness, such as napping together, binge-watching shows, or enjoying lazy afternoons under a shared blanket.

In these moments, he would create a comfortable and lighthearted atmosphere, allowing mc to feel at ease in his presence.

Belphie’s flirtation would often involve subtle gestures that express his care and protectiveness.

He might fall asleep next to mc, subconsciously seeking her warmth and companionship. His mischief would give away to moments of vulnerability, where he reveals his true emotions and the depth of his feelings.

Belphie would cherish mc’s ability to accept him for who he is and would shower her with affectionate gestures that reflect his genuine care and admiration.

.

.

.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hugging Dethklok Hcs

depending on how im feeling after posting this i think i might make a second part including side characters (likely the second post will contain charles abigail and knubbler !! and maybe even some smaller characters that i feel deserve more love) anyways uhuhuh first official MTL post except it.. actually isnt, ive written for knubbler and the dethklok minute host before so yeah very nervous about this since im still trying to find my footing in how i wanna write the characters, so heads up that this might be VERY OOC and what better prompt to do than do one of my "i dont know what to write" ones written with reader as their partner vague mentions of like. sexual stuff but nothing explicit, i still wish to keep this blog as sfw as possible, really just implications of it than anything also some characters had bonus hcs of cuddling so uhuhuh

NATHAN:

built like a mattress, though that can mean anything since not all mattresses are made the same... hmm.. have you ever hugged/cuddled one of those tiny headed kingdom plushies? very firm but not comfortable, i think thats what nathan feels like, but perhaps just a smidge softer. but how would nathan feel? i mean hes very protective of you, and being able to hold you gives him a moment to keep you close. not very affectionate otherwise, but this is nice. definitely the type to do hugs from behind, especially if theres someone trying to flirt with you

PICKLES:

short so theres a good chance youre around his height if not taller and he may or may not feel things about that (both negative and positive but lets save that for another post as i fully intend on keeping this sfw), i always thought pickles of being physically affectionate so him having a hand on you is a common occurrence. probably takes the opportunity to whisper something in your ear, usually something dirty or something incoherent with him being drunk or otherwise under the influence. oh yeah i can easily see him being the type to swing his limbs over his partner while he sleeps and trapping them there

SKWISGAAR:

maybe im cooking something doodoo, but i feel like skwisgaar may or may not struggle with non-sexual stuff, like being purely romantic and innocent with no intent to get your pants off is foreign to him. i whole heartedly believe the reason hes so sexual is due to being in dethklok and being huge, but also because of his mother constantly bringing new people home. so in the beginning he might actually be tense in giving you affection, definitely going to need to take some time. very cold, skinny people tend to be colder ive noticed so totally you shouldnt take this as an excuse to hold him closer (winks)... i DO think he would also have a hand on you a lot of the time like pickles, whether or not those hands have other motives is up in the air

MURDERFACE:

make him take a shower first/j

okay jokes aside, this man is so starved for attention and affection, but he would never ever EVER say it. you guys could be 100% fully alone in bum fuck no where and he still wouldnt say it. but its definitely there in his actions and body language. i think hes warm, and his skin is a little... i mean he canonically has dry skin with eczema, and while i dont have eczema i know what having that dry scaly skin feels like... perhaps we could tie in some self care with the reader helping murderface take better care of himself? i mean it would be one hell of a fight to get him to try but i think its do-able.. tight hugger, kind of lets his arms linger before sliding them down when you eventually pull away. wish i had more but i think murderface is the type to deny affection whilst also deeply craving it

TOKI:

probably the easiest to hug in terms of getting him to accept it, actually i think he might be the most likely to initiate one alongside pickles. very warm, though he sometimes hugs you a little too tight and might even tug you back in if you try to pull away before hes ready. full body cuddles into you when you guys sleep/nap together, arms and legs keep you in place so... good luck trying to slip away before he wakes up. i like to think he fiddles with your hair, too, though im unsure if that fits with his character... i think that, despite still having a love for all things brutal he still likes these smaller moments of just. affection. very clingy and possessive though so keep that in mind, i think he would hold you and physically try to pull you away if someone tries to flirt with you; a lot less subtle than when nathan does it

[nomoreusername]

How TMR Character Would Help If They Found Out You're Bipolar

(I am not trying to stereotype bipolar at all. I have it so when I use terms like mania and episodes I am basing it off of what I know. I know it's a spectrum and different for everyone, but I'm still trying to generalize it as best as I can without being disrespectful)

Doesn't know a lot about it at first so he's a little lost

Secretly looks up stuff about it so he knows and can help better

Catches on to the signs and what helps you very quickly

Never tells anybody and reminds you that you don't owe anyone an explanation for something you can't even control

Will sit in comfortable silence and hold your hand when he can tell things are getting rough

Will journal with you so that you feel connected with him but not pressured to talk

Suggests speaking to him through writing when you physically can't talk

Is very patient when you do

Would drop everything the second you needed him

Basically, he doesn't care whether you need silence or a thousand words as long as you're safe and comfortable

Notices the red flags due to his past experience

Very gently coaxes what's wrong out of you

Opens up back so you know you aren't alone in your mental health

Makes you a list of reasons to live and gives it to you for the next time your low comes

Would have an alarm for when you need to take your medication

Would drive you to and from any psychiatrist and therapists appointment

Doesn't mind when he needs to remind you to eat, sleep, or so basic things when you're going manic

Lets you know when he's worried about you without talking down to or babying you

Would help you schedule a doctor's appointment when your crash or mania is worse than usual or goes on for too long

Would be on the lookout for side effects from any new medications or treatments so he can let you know to bring them up at your appointment

All in all, your most caring and loving supporter

Can tell when you're upset about having it and will try to make jokes to cheer you up

If it doesn't work he'll sit with you in silence and hold you

Would never, ever, ever let anyone talk bad about the mental illness, even if you aren't there

Would sometimes give you too tough love (telling you that you're crashing or having an episode when you're in denial)

When he can tell that it hurt your feelings and just made you defensive he would stop and give you a minute to cool down

After that he would calmly explain why he believes that and would help with whatever you needed if he was right or if something else was going on

Could sometimes be too much when getting you out of the house and doing stuff that's good for you when you're crashing but would realize before it does any harm

Would apologize about it and spend the day laying with and comforting you

To sum it up, his love and concern can be pushy but he will always be there for whatever you need

Would have a little bit of trouble understanding at first

When you had an episode for the first time he made an internal comparison to him lashing out when angry to help with that

Would be good at knowing when you can be calmed down, when you need to be with someone, and when you need to be alone

Would be your first and most intense defender if someone starts stereotyping, being rude, or assuming things about you because of it

Sometimes he would have to catch himself when he's about to lose patience when you're having mania but gets better at it

Knows when it's better for both of you and still safe for you to separate for a little bit (around an hour or two) before helping you work through whatever it was

Would be extremely proud of you when it's very under control and would let you know but also assure you he's aware it's a cycle

Overall, the longer he's with you the better he gets at supporting you

Would sometimes struggle with not taking what you say during episodes to heart but would still understand that you didn't mean and were working on it

Would stay awake and try to soothe you to sleep when your mania causes you to stay up

If you're up for really late he would drive you around and either let you have silence until you fall asleep or talk with you to keep your mind off of it

Would be good at remembering triggers to episodes and help you avoid them

Better at helping you with crashes than mania but isn't in any way bad at either of them

Sometimes would pull away from everyone when he could tell you just needed someone to help you

Sometimes would take your mind off of it and others he would let you talk about it or would hold you when you cried

Generally, very patient and loving while giving you any reassurance you need

Has a basic understanding at first

Researches things about it and keeps what she finds in a journal

Learns and memorizes all the terms and symptoms

Keeps track of patterns she sees with mania and crashes

Has comfort food, movies, and things you'll need near her when she can tell you're going to have an episode

Will watch whatever you want with you while cuddling you until you fall asleep

Gets worried when it happens but doesn't let that blind how you're actually doing

Will eat with with you to make sure you actually are

Tells you she loves you as much as she can so you know you'll never be alone through it

To cut it short, she'll learn everything she can so that she can be everything you need

Listens to what you tell her about it and remembers every last bit of information

Would ask how it went after every psychiatrist/therapists appointment but not pry for details

Knows that even though you need a little extra help from medication or people, you're capable of looking out for yourself

Will bring you your favorite fast food every time she finds out you're not eating because of it

Sits at the table and stares at you while eating her own meal until you finish

Gets you some kind of dessert if you want it when you eat what you can

Will lay on top of you so you can't get up and walk around at night when you aren't sleeping

Sometimes tricks you into thinking her telling you to look out for yourself was actually your idea so you listen

To sum it up, she'll let you be a person while also doing what she has to to make sure you're treating yourself right

Realizes something's wrong during a crash because it reminds her of when Newt was depressed

Tells you she's worried and gets you to open up

Feels a little bad when you do since she didn't expect that answer

When she gets over it she asks if you want to tell her more about it

Listens to every single word

Tells you she loves you and how important you are what when you're finished

Generally better at helping with mania since depression brings back some memories

Will stay up late and read to you when you're manic until you go to sleep

Tells you when you're making a rash decision and suggests you sit down with her and really think it though

Will start adding a "make sure to take your medicine," into her goodmorning/goodnight texts

Notices every change in your behavior and will reassure you she'll be there if you have an episode

Essentially, she makes sure you're being logical when manic and safe when crashing

Asks what she can do to support you when you actually tell her

Makes sure to always know your answer

Would pick up your medicine for you when she sees you're running low

Reminds you when you have to make another psychiatrist or therapist appointment

Has the appointments on her own schedule so she can be ready to drive you to or from there if it ends up being a rough session

Takes you to a quiet place outside if it was to get your mind off of it

Will drive you to her place after that so you still aren't alone

Talks about things that aren't actually important but make you happy until you fall asleep in her arms

Will ask if you want to talk about it in the morning after making breakfast

Respects whatever answer you give her

Overall, she'll make sure you speak for yourself while supporting you when you can't find your voice

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 12

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Pregnancy. labor, childbirth, health emergency, hospital stay, talk of living wills and things going wrong, traumatic birth, mentions of death/possibility of death, reassurance, emotional hurt/comfort. Summary: Months after going public with your relationship with your soulmate, you and Marcus get the phone call you've been waiting for: Sydney has gone into labor! Notes: The migraines and the pain aren't gone but the story continues! This week is a rollercoaster, my darlings. I hope you enjoy 🧡

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11

The call came late on a Saturday night during the first full week of September. Busy getting ready to go out for a later-than-usual date, you had jumped straight up in the air when your phone started ringing. The words 'labor' and 'hospital' got you and Marcus moving instantly, and you were off to meet Juan and Sydney at Sibley Memorial Hospital faster than a heartbeat.

“Now, it’s gonna be awhile.” Marcus warns you, even as he speeds towards the hospital. “I might have to come back to get you some clothes.”

"As long as it doesn't take as long as Junie did to be born," you joke, trying to dispel your own tensions even as you fidget in your seat. "Mom was in labor for twenty-six hours. I think Syd will just reach in and pull the baby out before she waits that long."

“She’ll be yelling that she has a dinner menu to put out.” Marcus snorts, understanding how frustrated Juan has been when his wife refused to slow down until the very end.

"If she doesn't have her recipe notebook out within an hour of giving birth, I'll be astonished." She never slows down, your best friend, and you adore her despite it being worrying sometimes. At least you got her to agree to the more-than-generous New Parent Leave package the inn has adopted. They're both technically on your payroll so you know they'll be well taken care of.

“The new sous chef she hired to help the old one step into her shoes has worked out really well so far.” Marcus knows that talking about the inn will help you focus. Keep you from worrying yourself up into a state until you can lay your eyes on Sydney.

"She needed another set of hands anyway." Just because you know what he's doing doesn't mean you're not grateful, and you fidget in your seat before glancing down at your phone for the thousandth time. No new texts. You just have to remind yourself that that is a good thing. "Hopefully this new guy will work out and she'll keep him on long term."

“Yeah, it’s nearly a fully house every night in the restaurant.” Business in the inn might have taken a slight hit from the negative press, but the food was still bringing in the locals.

"Thank god for that." Over the last few months your bookings haven't been too stellar, but you've been making up for it with restaurant patrons and special event bookings. At least you had room enough to accommodate Marcus's parents when they came up in July. "I don't want to think about what would have happened if we'd lost restaurant sales along with bookings."

“I’m just happy that the ‘anonymous sources’ have tapered off lately.” The accusations are still out there but you and Marcus have been laying low for now.

“What I wouldn’t give for two seconds with our sniveling exes.” It’s obvious that it has been Sam and Vanessa feeding things to the gossip columnists, although technically all you have is your say-so. They’re being clever enough to make sure that there is no paper trail and nothing being said that marks them as the obvious source of the negative rumors. “Why do we have to be the better people?” You gripe with a pout. “We could just as easily say made up shit about them. For all we know, they were the ones having an affair and this is a whole situation of they doth protest too much.”

“I don’t think so.” Marcus would love for that to be the case. “That week of the state dinner, he was sick.” He reminds you. “I think Vanessa went over to his house and somehow discovered she’s his soulmate. She told me that she had just found out, not that she just met him.” He theorizes. “And now, they are twisting their own narrative, but I don’t understand why.”

“If they’re trying to discredit Mom through me, it’s not working.” Though your business may have taken a hit, your mother’s first term has been fairly impressive so far. She’s getting her legislation moving at a brisk clip and her focus on the economy is already strong. You sigh, though, pushing out the bad thoughts, and squeeze his hand over the gear shift. “They don’t get to ruin our goddaughter’s birth. That’s not in the cards.”

“Nope.” Marcus made sure to pack the gifts for mother and baby in the car while you were rushing around to get dressed. Both of you are excited. “Doesn’t matter, today is about Sydney and the baby.” He chuckles. “And poor Juan too. I know he’s a wreck right now.”

“He’s so excited and so nervous.” The clock on the dashboard reads ten minutes until midnight and you squeeze his hand again to relieve some of your own nerves. It’s not like you’re the one having a baby. There’s no reason to be nervous, but you are. For your best friend and your goddaughter and for Juan who is like a big brother to you.

“Yes he is.” Marcus tosses you a grin. “I know he’s supposed to be handing out cigars, but I managed to get my hands on a box of very nice ones. When the baby is born, I’m going to give them to him. To celebrate the important milestones with.”

“They’re the ones your dad smokes, aren’t they?” Beaming that grin right back at him, the conjured memory of the vanilla and spice scent of Matthew Pike’s favorite cigars is easy to conjure. “He’ll love that.”

“I hope so.” Marcus grins. “I can just imagine how proud he’s going to be. He’s going to be crying as he holds his child for the first time.”

“He’s going to be a leaky faucet by the time we get to the hospital,” you predict with an affection laugh. “They deserve this. They already love that little girl so much and they’re going to be amazing parents.”

“Yes they are.” He can’t help but be a little envious, although it’s not a sharp feeling because he knows it will happen for the two of you soon enough. He will be content with cuddling his new goddaughter.

There’s little traffic at this time of night, and before you know it you and Marcus are parking and heading inside to track down the room number that Juan texted to you. Sydney and Juan’s families will be alerted when the baby is born, but it was their wish to have you and Marcus in hand for the birth. You’ll be right there in the delivery room with Syd and Juan while Marcus keeps the families updated in a group chat. You’re co-captains of Team Moral Support and you’re excited for every second of it.

His hand is on your back as you stop in front of the door. “Are you ready, sweetheart?” He asks with a beaming smile.

“Nervous. Excited. Very ready.” You lean back to steal a kiss, warmed through by the comfort of having him by your side for this enormous step in the lives of your close friends. Your chosen family. “And…I can’t wait until it’s us.”

“Soon enough.” He promises. “Soon enough.” He pushed the door open and knocks with the back of his knuckles. “Knock, knock.”

“Oh thank god!” Comes the response from inside, and you’re laughing at the relief in Sydney’s voice when you and Marcus push inside. “The Godparent Brigade has arrived! Here to pump you up, handle your relatives, and fetch your sushi after the little peanut has arrived on the scene.”

“Get the sushi before anything else.” Sydney demands, rubbing her stomach and nearly salivating at the thought.

"I've already got your order in my phone, and Marcus will jet out to get it. You won't have to wait at all, honey." It doesn't surprise you in the least that Syd is thinking about one of her favorite foods, but you move over to her side in the bed as the two men hug and give your best friend a squeeze on her shoulder. "How are you doing? Do you want me to go strong arm a nurse for some ice chips?"

“Juan already has two cups of them, letting them melt down.” She grins at you and then winces when another contraction hits.

It takes everything you've got not to wince or cringe along with her, knowing that it won't do a single lick of good and won't help her feel any better. "How far apart are they?" You ask instead, rubbing her back in small, soothing circles.

“Twelve minutes, forty-seven seconds.” Juan tells you as he looks down at his watch and then back at his wife. “We are down from fifteen minutes.”

"Getting closer and closer!" Practically squeaking with excitement, you can see the same light in Juan's eyes despite the worry lines in his furrowed brow. He just wants everything to go well, and you can't blame him there.

Sydney huffs out a small laugh, knowing you are doing exactly what she had wanted you to. Cheerlead for her. “Did you happen to bring those hard candies?” She asks, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Yes!" Ready to dig into your purse immediately, you swirl around and grab your bag from where you had dropped it to one side when you came in the room. "I've got sour lemon and orange, and I've got the sweet strawberry ones. What are you feeling at the moment?"

“Sweet.” She practically moans the word and reaches out to you with grabby hands. “Don’t hold out on me now.”

"Here we go, babe." One of the candies is deposited in Syd's outstretched hands and a few more get tucked into the pockets of your cardigan to make sure you have one on hand for her at no more than a moment's notice. "Plenty more where that came from, I promise."

“You are the best.” She moans, popping the candy into her mouth and rolling her eyes in pleasure.

"Now how are you doing, Dad?" With Syd moaning over her small treat, you turn your attention to Juan.

“I’m hanging in there, but I think I forgot my bag.” He rolls his eyes and huffs. “Too busy making sure the car seat was secure.”

"Babe, you have a key to their place, right?" If not, you'll pull out your keys and send Marcus back to Alexandria with your spare house key instead. You would go yourself, but you vowed not to leave Sydney's side once you got to the hospital. The kind of vow that is definitely life or death and she will hold you to.

“Juan gave me one.” Marcus nods, and agrees with your silent plan. “I’ll run and get the bag. Pick up some coffee that’s better than the shit they serve here, yeah?”

"I have a feeling we're going to need it." Juan nods and claps Marcus on the shoulder gratefully.

"I'll call you if anything changes," you promise him, turning back to your own soulmate. "You're amazing, sweetheart. Thank you."

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He reassures you, leaning in to kiss your lips before hugging Juan and bussing Sydney’s cheek. “Ask for the good drugs, mama.” He teases with a wink, wanting her to laugh.

"You bet your ass!" She groans, wincing more heavily with this contraction than she had with the one before. "Get back here fast, Marcus. Speed. Lots!"

“I’ll use my badge if I get pulled over!” He calls back as he rushes out of the room.

"He'll be back in no time." Realistically you know it will take quite a lot of time, in fact, but your job tonight is not to be realistic. It is to be positive and upbeat. To keep spirits high. "I think Malachi is going to win the betting pool." You grin and stand up by the head of the bed with Sydney, right there to hold her hand if she needs you. "He had Monday – tomorrow, technically – as the day, but I don't think anyone had Sunday."

“Juan…” Sydney smiles. “Take a nap, baby. I know you are exhausted. You were about to go to sleep when my labor started. Birdie is here, so get some sleep.”

He raises an eyebrow, knowing his wife is in pain, but also knowing that a short nap will ensure he is at his best to help her. "We'll take shifts," he compromises, eyeing you just as much as his wife. "So someone is always here holding your hand and timing your contractions. Short naps only. I don't want to miss anything."

“I promise I won’t push her out without you.” She teases, leaning in and pressing her lips to his. “Go, it might be your last nap for the next eighteen years.”

"I love you, Warrior Queen." There are more kisses and more sweet words, and finally Juan crosses the compact hospital room to curl up on the Dad Bench and try to get at least a little bit of sleep before his baby girl enters the world.

“I don’t want to be horrible through this.” She admits quietly. “I’m hoping the labor progresses so I get an epidural quickly.”

"There is not a single person who is going to even blink an eye if you are upset during this labor," you promise her. She pats the side of her bed and you perch on the edge of the mattress, holding her hand all the while. "If you wanted or needed to rage through the whole thing, we would stand by your right to do so. But we'll also stand by your choice to do things any other way. Whatever way is going to be the best possible experience of bringing your first baby into this world."

“Will you do me a favor?” She asks quietly, eyeing Juan as he turns into the couch and gives you his back. He’s already snoring lightly so she’s not worried about him overheating. “If something happens…..” This is the first time that she’s ever said anything out loud and her eyes are anxious. “I’ve signed the paperwork already, but if something happens, I don’t want to stay on machines.” She whispers. “Promise me that you’ll help him let go. And if it’s me or the baby…you know what I want you to choose.”

“Nothing is going to happen.” As firmly and sternly as you can, you squeeze your best friend’s fingers in yours and bite back the instant tears that spring but behind your eyes. The fact that this conversation is even necessary is heartbreaking, but women die in childbirth every single day. Nothing is going to happen. You almost shake with determination but that isn’t what she needs right now. The person who means the most to you in the world besides Marcus is looking you in the face and asking you to be loyal to her. And you will. “I promise.” Two small, devastating words. But if she’s thought this far ahead, she’s also had another thought. “You have a will somewhere?”

“In the safe at home.” She nods, relieved that you are not fighting her and it’s obvious on her face. She had expected an argument, she knows she would have gotten one from Juan, which is why she chose you as her medical POA. “The papers are in an envelope in my bag.” She nods towards the incredibly organized hospital bag.

“Okay.” You nod, still holding her hands tightly. “I love you. I will honor your wishes. Now tell me which onesies you packed to bring her home in so you can get excited again.”

“All of them.” Sydney snorts, only half kidding. “There are twelve that I couldn’t decide between, so I brought them all. Figured we would decide which one looks best when we are holding her.”

“We can absolutely decide later.” She’s already a little sweaty at the top of her forehead from the contractions and you nudge a cup of melted ice chips toward her just to cool her down. “Do you have a top three?”

“The ones in the right hand pocket.” She takes the cup and starts to gulp down the cool water.

In the right hand pocket of Sydney’s neatly packed hospital bag, three folded baby onesies await their new owner: one from her mother in law covered in little surfboards and ocean waves and sunglasses to represent how much Juan had loved surfing when he was out in California. One from Syd’s sister AnnaLeigh with Once Upon a Time…a Heroine was Born written out like the beginning of an illuminated fairytale, and one from you and Marcus emblazoned with the logo of Syd’s favourite hockey team to get her baby girl started out right. “They’re fantastic choices,” you hum, looking at the clothes with misty eyes.

“You see why I couldn’t choose?” She laughs, shaking her head and setting down the rest of the ice chips to melt. Seriously not understanding why they just wouldn’t give her water. Labor is fucking thirsty work.

“I think I like AnnaLeigh’s,” you admit, before tucking them back into the bag as carefully as they had been before. “But we’ll see how she feels about them when she’s here. Who knows? She might come out the chillest baby in the world and then we now she matches Juanito’s surfer phase.”

“Juan actually likes that one too.” She admits with a grin. “He’s so fucking excited for this baby to come. He swears if he could carry her for me, he would.”

“He totally would have if he could.” The grin on your face breaks wider, and you sit back on the edge of Syd’s bed with her. “So would Marcus. In a heartbeat.”

“How did we get so fucking lucky?” Her eyes mist up, overwhelmed with the beautiful thought of both of you so happy and cared for with your soulmates.

“I truly have no idea.” The mist in her eyes halts for just a moment as another contraction hits, but it doesn’t fade. It doesn’t dim. Syd’s happiness is true, and you’re so grateful to see it. “Thank god they get along though. We’d be screwed if our soulmates weren’t friends.”

Panting, she leans back and rubs her belly. “We would make them be friends.” She jokes. “The most awkward small talk over beers until they find a common interest.”

“Lucky for us?” You sit forward and help her readjust her pillows from where they had fallen out of place. “They’re basically as inseparable as we are again.”

"Lucky for us." She agrees, leaning back with a sigh and smiling at you. "Thanks. You know what I need before I do sometimes."

“For most of the time we’ve known each other, I’ve been shocked that we aren’t soulmates.” At some point in your teenage years you had discussed it, but your appendicitis scar already existed and she has never born that. “I gotta be honest, I used to be bummed that we’re not. But when you met Juan, I understood why.”

She kisses the air in your direction. "Because you had Marcus waiting on you, too." She reminds you. "We are better than soulmates. We are sisters by choice."

“I would have waited forever for him.” She gets the same air kiss from you, and you descend into giggles together. “We really are lucky.”

The giggles are interrupted by another contraction, making Sydney hiss and squeeze her eyes shut as she tries to breathe through it. Coming out as more of a whine until the pain passes again. "They- They are getting closer." She huffs when she can talk again.

“We’re down to eight minutes and sixteen seconds apart,” you tell her, checking your watch. “You’re doing awesome, Syd.”

“I can’t believe it.” She grunts when she gets a foot in her rib. “I don’t know whether to be impressed that it’s going so fast, or cry because I’m not further along.”

"You're allowed to be both, you know." Frankly, you're both. She is progressing quickly but you know she would rather have just arrived fully dilated and ready to go. "Just remember. At least she's not dragging her heels like Junie did."

“I don’t know how your mom did it.” She huffs, thinking about your mother and how excited you had been for a younger sister. “She was still working while in labor.”

"My mother is some kind of weird combination of feral cryptid being and absolute machine," you chuckle, shaking your head. "If I'm trying to do bookings and make staff schedules during labor, please slap me."

Huffing out a laugh, she grunts and rubs her belly again on the side. “Done.” She pants. “But get me my notebook.” She points to her bag. “I just thought about a salted Carmel mocha crème brûlée.”

“I am only agreeing to this because it will take your mind off the pain.” Still, you dig into the pocket opposite the onesies she has earmarked as favorites and come out with her battered and beaten recipe notebook. “It sounds like it will be nice to send to your sous chef.”

“It sounds like something I want to eat right now.” She groans, flipping open the tatty cover and laying it on her baby bump to quickly write down her idea.

“You’re going to be a little distracted and busy for a while,” you remind her. Still you can’t help but grin at her tongue poking out from between her teeth as she scribbles.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not hungry.” She moans pitifully after finishing the notes. “I was in the middle of getting a snack.” The pout that pushes her lips out would be comical under different circumstances but she’s horribly disappointed to have not gotten to eat before being bustled into the car by her frazzled husband.

“What was snack time tonight?” It is absolutely always the way to distract her when she’s feeling bad, and tonight is All Sydney All the Time, so you’re focused in one her.

She groans and whimpers slightly at the food she had to leave on the counter. “Cottage cheese with fresh peach compote and balsamic glaze.” She pouts even more. “It was going to be amazing. But I had to tell Juan that I was cramping.”

“I’ll make sure there’s plenty in your fridge waiting for you when you get home.” You can promise her that, along with their fridge and freezer being fully stocked with ready-made meals and easy to use ingredients that should last more than two weeks. Between you and Marcus and Malachi and her staff, you’ve all been secretly helping prep for baby’s arrival for a week already. Even Agent Bailey made a contribution to the frozen meals and added some veggies from her garden.

“Thank you.” She smiles you softly. “I can’t believe that when I leave, I’m going to be holding her.” She admits with a grin.

“She’s almost here.” As if to affirm it, another swift kick to Sydney’s abdomen is brutally obvious, and you grin. “And she’s excited about it.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence. Broken by contractions and the quickening of their pace. Sydney trying to be quiet as she pants through them to let Juan sleep.

Checking your watch again and finding nearly two hours have gone by, you tilt your head at your best friend and hand her another strawberry candy. "Marcus should be back soon, and your contractions are barely more than five minutes apart now. I think it's time to wake Dad up and call for the nurse."

Marcus has Juan’s bag in the backseat and he had cancelled the reservations he had made for tonight. They aren’t going to be used, and he had apologized profusely. Still, he stops at the inn to run up to the small gun safe, using the biometric lock to open it and reveal a small ring box. He had been planning to propose tonight, and he still can, it will just look different now.

"It's happening, isn't it?" On his one night shift per week, Malachi had seen you and Marcus hustle out the backdoor of the inn with bags in hand and seen not long after when Marcus reappeared in a hurry. Now he is waiting at the back door once again, but this time to snag Marcus before he can disappear in to the night.

“It is.” Marcus nods with a huge grin spreading across his face. “Juan forgot his bag. I’ll text you when she’s born.” All the staff are invested so he will be sure to let them know. “You’ve got the inn?” He checks, although he knows what the other man will say.

"That baby is your godchild." Malachi smiles surprisingly softly. "This inn is mine."

“I know.” He reaches out and squeezes Malachi’s arm. “Birdie trusts you with her most important treasure.” He praises.

"Not quite." He winks at the other man, considering him a friend now after many months of back and forth, and grins. "She'd never leave me alone with you."

Marcus snorts, well aware of the man’s proclivity to flirt. He matches that grin. “That’s because she knows how persuasive you are.” He jokes, winking at him playfully. “Besides. You are still yearning for your soulmate and will only be happy when he breezes into your life like he’s always been there.”

"Check all those doctors for my ankle tat, handsome." Malachi teases, shooing Marcus toward the door. "A man in scrubs is better than a man in uniform."

“I will.” He gives Malachi a salute and hustles out of the door to speed back to the hospital as quickly as he can.

It's on the heels of a nurse when Marcus comes back into the room, with Juan standing at Syd's side holding tight to your hand while you have been banished to the corner of the room so the nurse can do her work. "It's almost time!" You tell him excitedly, wrapping your arms around him the second he makes his way over to her.

“Holy shit, I made it just in time then.” He can’t believe how fast it’s gone, he had expects at least half a day or more of labor.

"Apparently Constance does not want to wait." The shine of tears in your eyes isn't going anywhere now that you're about to head to the delivery room with Sydney and Juan, but you hug Marcus fiercely. "And I can't wait to meet her. I'm so glad you made it in time."

“Me too.” Marcus presses his lips to yours, letting you cling to him for a second before you pull back. “Does she want me there for Juan or should I stay here?”

"Stay here and hold down the fort for us? She's going to be exhausted when it's all over but she's nervous about everything being okay in the room while we're gone." Wishing so dearly that this was your night only makes you smile because you know that it's only a matter of time.

“Absolutely.” Marcus nods and looks over at Juan and Sydney. “I’ve got everything here. You go meet your daughter.”

"We'll be back soon." Juan is beaming, practically hopping around, and looks like he might jump out of his own skin if given the chance. "She's almost here!"

Marcus laughs at the bubbly excitement, watching as the nurses wheel her bed out, with you and Juan right on their heels as she’s transferred over to the delivery room. “And now…” Marcus pulls out the ring box and flicks it open to look down at the gorgeous ring. “We wait.”

It's over an hour before anyone comes back into the room, and when it happens it's just you alone with a look of exhausted panic on your face. "Everyone's okay." The first words out of your mouth, but you murmur them while shaking slightly and bolting into his arms, so it isn't terribly reassuring.

That doesn’t sound reassuring, coupled with the desperate way you cling to him. Marcus folds you into his embrace tightly.

“She was breech…” Sniffling through the explanation and clinging to him even harder is about the best you can do right now. “And they couldn’t get her to turn. Then—then they did an ultrasound and figured out that—” The shudder that runs through you is all-encompassing. “She had her umbilical cord around her neck. So they had to do an emergency c-section.” The shaky breath you exhale as you lean back is enough to make him quake right along with you, but he holds you steady. “And then the placenta ruptured after they brought the baby out and—and Syd just kept bleeding—”

“Oh shit.” Marcus whispers in horror, his heart plummeting to his feet and he swallows harshly. “But they are both okay?” He had heard you say they were, but he needs the confirmation.

“They’re both okay.” You can barely manage to nod, tears spilling over for yet another time. “They took Constance to the NICU and Juan is with Syd in recovery until they okay her to come back here.”

“Thank God.” Marcus breathes out softly. “Hopefully Syd is asleep? I know she would be frantic if Constance isn’t with her after that.”

“Awake, but exhausted.” You’re still gripping his leather jacket, refusing to let go. It had been warding off the chill in the air conditioned room but now it’s your life line. “They let her hold the baby for a few minutes before they whisked her off to the NICU.”

“How is she?” Marcus asks quietly, worrying about the baby. “Could we sit with her in the NICU?”

“The doctor said not to worry.” Though you sniffle again, clearly very concerned. “That she’s seen babies in far worse condition come through it totally fine. But they wanted her in a place where they can help immediately if they need to.” Two tears leak from your eyes but you brush them away with the back of your wrist and try to breathe. “They’ll come down and tell us in a little while if she can come be with Sydney or if we’ll be allowed to visit the NICU. For now we just gotta—we gotta stay put. That’s why Juan wanted me to come tell you.”

“Then that is what we will do.” Marcus promises, rubbing your back gently. “I’ll wait to pick up her sushi, hmm?” He wants you to decide that is the best option because he’s not leaving you right now. Not for anything in the world. He’s already reached out to his team to let them know he’s out of pocket for right now.

“Until after she gets some sleep.” You nod against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist for a sturdy anchor. “This is…not a celebrating time. The only thing worth celebrating is the fact that they’re okay.”

The ring he had planned to give you tonight burns a hole in his pocket, but he hums in agreement, pressing his lips to your head. “I completely agree.” He murmurs softly. “We will just make sure that they are in perfect health.”

“I love you so much.” The sheer relief of having him in your arms now after nearly losing your best friend — both of them meaning more to you than life itself — is unspeakable. “And I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promises. “I think I’m going to text the group that mom and baby are resting comfortably and we will make the announcement later?” He asks. “I don’t want people to bug Juan or worry.”

“I think that’s probably a good idea.” The last that the baby arrival group chat had heard, Syd was being wheeled to the delivery room. They deserved an update.

“Why don’t you go into the bathroom and wash your face, sweetheart?” Marcus urges. “Change into your comfy clothes and I’ll send out a text.”

“I’m too anxious to sleep, but I’ll wash up and change.” It seems like it will make you feel less frazzled, and therefore more on your game to help your friends. “But if you need to lie down, you should. I’ll wake you up when the nurse comes in with news.”

“I won’t sleep.” Marcus is too focused on you, too in tune with your nervousness to ever nap. Not right now.

“Then change with me and settle in,” you suggest instead, knowing that if your positions were switched you would feel the same. “It might be a long night.”

Marcus nods. “I can do that.” He promises, rubbing your shoulders and moving towards the bags. “If you want to take a quick shower, no one would blame you.”

“I think I’ll save that trick for refreshing myself in a few hours from now.” Predicting that you’ll need it, you kiss him now and slip off to the adjacent bathroom with your overnight bag to change.

Marcus pulls out his phone and calls down to the florist department that is on the ground floor of the hospital, wanting Sydney to come back to a lovely bouquet.

Wash your face. Change your clothes. Try not to break out crying again that you almost had to put that conversation with Syd a few hours ago into action. By the time you come out of the bathroom in Marcus’s old FBI Academy sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, your shoulders are drooping and your feet are dragging but at least you’ve stopped crying.

“Oh sweetheart.” While you had washed your face, Marcus had changed out in the room. “Come lay down with me on the sofa/bench thing.” He urges, reaching for you again.

“The Dad Bench.” Curling up into his side immediately, you lay your head on his shoulder and breathe out another sigh. “After you left, she made me promise to make the decision if something went wrong,” you tell him quietly. “Juan would never be able to…and she knew…that if she made me promise. I’d do what she wanted.”

He had been stroking your arm, fingers freezing as he absorbs the implication of that statement. “I’m glad it didn’t come to that.” He closes his eyes and sends up a prayer of thanks and continued good health to whomever might hear him. He doesn’t wish that on anyone, least of all his soulmate and one of his best friends.

"It almost did." Tears come again, fresh and few, but they are definitely there. "The only other time I've heard Juan pray in Spanish was when his mother had a heart attack a few years ago."

“I would be praying in every fucking language I could if it were you.” Marcus whispers. “To every God ever imagined.”

"Everyone is okay." Having to remind yourself of it fairly often seems...fairly reasonable, all things considered. You had stood at your best friend's side and looked her and her soulmate in the eyes as the doctors worked to control her bleeding. As she lay on a table with the distinct reality that those would be the last moments of her life.

But no. Everyone is okay. And soon they'll send her downstairs so she can rest comfortably, and they'll bring little Constance to her to have joyous moments with her family instead of fearful ones.

“Everyone is okay.” He echoes softly. “But…I asked the nurse for a rollaway bed for you.” The nurse had slipped into the room to check on you while you had been in the bathroom, before he had changed. You had just walked into the other room and closed the door, in fact. He had thought it would be best to prepare for you to not leave this room anytime soon.

"Did she say anything else?" No news is good news most of the time when you're in a hospital, but if Marcus got to speak to a nurse you want to know everything.

“She said that momma and baby should be in here by the time visitor hours start.” He couldn’t get a timeframe beyond that, but he took what he could get.

"That's..." Turning your wrist to check your face, the dial reads just after four in the morning. "That's about four hours. And I know Juan won't be down without them. So...I guess we should settle in?"

“Of course.” He doesn’t move, just continuing to hold you. Feeling you relax against him slowly.

"I guess...rain check on date night sex?" You huff weakly, trying for a joke. By this time of night on a date night you would normally be fast asleep – and very naked – in each other's arms.

“A rain check with you is better than any legal tender.” He jokes back, smiling softly even though he had hoped it would be engaged sex.

"What a night." The longer that you sit with him, the calmer you get. It's such an enormous thing for you, to have someone to anchor you as well as he does, and you sigh again as you deflate just a little more into his side.

“Not exactly how I imagined the night going.” Marcus admits with a small sigh. He’s not unhappy, he just wishes the birth hadn’t been so traumatic for everyone.

"Tell me what we were going to do tonight." Thinking about absolutely anything else seems like a very good idea right now, and while you know it was already late when you were leaving the apartment, you also know that Marcus had made plans for tonight.

“I had booked us a late table at Kingbird.” He tells you, smiling at the fact that Sydney had pulled the strings to get the reservation. “It was supposed to be the last table of the night.”

"The restaurant at the Watergate?" Your eyebrows raise when you look up at him and you're practically pouting. "I've been dying to try that place."

“I know.” He had asked and there was a list of places, but he had chosen that one to immortalize as special for the two of you. “And booked us a room at the hotel.”

"Shit." The pout on your lips deepens when you realize how much work Marcus had put into the night, only for it to be interrupted. "I'm so sorry, love. We'll have to reschedule everything. It sounds like it would have been beautiful."

“This is more important.” Marcus insists. “Don’t apologize. This is where I want to be, with you.”

"I don't think I could make it through tonight without you." It would be too much to handle on your own. With such deep emotions entangled in every second of the night, without your anchor you might have just flown apart. "I don't like the idea of doing anything without you anymore."

“You would have, sweetheart.” Marcus knows that, you are so damn strong. So much stronger than you ever believe about yourself. “I know you would have, but you don’t have to.” He stresses. “I’ll be here for you. Support you, comfort you. Celebrate your success and mourn your losses with you. I’m right here.”

"There are no losses to mourn tonight." And you'll be thanking every deity out there for any part they may have had in it. And also making sure that you note down the name of Sydney's doctor for your own pregnancies, because that woman worked quickly and thoroughly and without hesitation to make sure that both mother and baby made it through a birth that would have killed them both in decades past.

“We celebrate life.” He agrees softly. “And love. That little girl is loved so much already.”

"She's beautiful." And of course, there's a sniffle again. At least this one is happy and relieved. "Syd's big eyes and Juan's dark hair."

“Juan is going to be miserable when she gets older.” He laughs quietly. “She’s going to be gorgeous.”

"If she's anything like her mom, she'll have her head too far in the clouds to notice any of the boys or girls chasing her," you laugh along with him, remembering Sydney in high school. "Syd never had any clue how sought after she was."

“She was waiting for Juan.” It’s a bit of a romantic stretch, but it could also be the truth. “Plus she was too in love with crème brûlée. No mere man could compare.”

"She was dreaming about a caramel mocha one while you were gone." The maddening fear is starting to subside, finally, and you sink ever more deeply against Marcus on the bench. "I swear I'll make them for her every day for the rest of her life after what happened tonight."

“See?” He smirks to himself. “She loves them and I’ll help you. I can take the next week off, help with the inn and let you focus on Sydney and co?”

"You don't have to do that." It's a lot to ask of him, and you know that even though he has plenty of vacation time, you were planning on taking a trip down to Texas to spend New Years with his parents. "It's a deeply appreciated gesture, though."

“I don’t mind.” He protests, although he had been certain you would not let him do that for you. “I hope you know that.”

"I know, my love." In his lap, your fingers find his and tangle your hands together. "Why don't we wait on that decision until we see how Sydney and the baby are doing? I don't want you to take extra days out when I know you had been wanting to do other things with them in the next few months."

“Alright.” He will do what you want, let you lead this but he won’t let you exhaust yourself trying to carry everything. “Hopefully they will deliver the flowers I ordered before Syd comes back into the room.”

“You ordered flowers?” Sometimes you really feel like the things he does are magic, from small to large the gestures of love and support are always so deep that it seems impossible for him to not be the Superman of emotional support. “Honey, you’re—you’re too good. Too all of us.”

Marcus snorts. “My mother insisted we order flowers from her and dad, before this all went sideways.” He adds. Wanting you to know the context. “But Sydney just went through a traumatic childbirth. Flowers are the least I could do in order to make her feel loved and special.” He had ordered the flowers his mother wanted and then ordered other arrangements, including a welcome bouquet for Constance herself.

“Everyone is okay.” More reassuring this time, the words still come out in a hush and your eyes drop from Marcus’s for a moment before fluttering back up. “Thank you for being you,” you murmur after a moment. Marcus is that supportive and bolstering friend and family member. This is just who he is. And you’re so entirely grateful to have him here with you, especially right now.

“I don’t know if I would thank me for that.” Marcus teases, leaning in and kissing your forehead again. “But you can always count on me, hummingbird.”

“I know I can. And I’m thankful for that.” More than you could ever say. More than any words you have.

“Close your eyes.” He orders softly. He knows you are exhausted and emotionally spent. You need the rest so you can care for Sydney, Juan and the baby when they are back in this room.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll sleep.” Though you’ll try, knowing that the nurse doesn’t expect Sydney or the baby to be able to come down for at least a few hours.

“I know. Just closing them will be good.” He murmurs softly, still rubbing your back when you shift to lay across him. “You’ve been crying.”

“You would have been proud of me,” you murmur, settling against him one more time and shutting your eyes. “I kept it together until after everything happened.” It was shock, probably, but you still managed it. “Therapy is going to be a doozy this week.”

“Yes it will.” He won’t deny that or try to minimize your feelings. “You don’t need to skip it.”

“I’m absolutely not going to skip it.” Not this week, of all weeks. Not at all. The heaviness of the night is tugging at you, not for sleep but for rest, and for the first time you think you actually might be able to calm down fully as long as you can stay in Marcus’s arms.

Humming in approval, he doesn’t speak, letting the silence draw between you and waiting for your breathing to start slowing down.

The nap lasts about two hours. Two hours held tight in Marcus’s arms on that padded bench, and when you shift against him the small sound of noncommittal discomfort and surprise is enough to tell you that he fell asleep too. Good, you think, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Everyone deserves a reset tonight. Even little Constance.

Marcus wakes quietly, as soon as you move, and he slowly remembers that he’s not in your bed. Both of you are at the hospital. He hums and sighs softly, knowing it hadn’t been a long nap, but it will do wonders for the coming hours.

"Hey handsome." The room is quiet and so are you, sitting up to stretch beside him and bring your limbs back to life.

“How did you sleep?” Marcus asks softly, watching you through heavy eyes.

“Better than I thought I would,” you admit, though you have a feeling that’s only because you didn’t sleep deeply enough for nightmares to set in. “You?”

“Pretty good nap.” He yawns. “Although I know I’m going to have to get coffee for all of us.”

Checking your watch, you stretch again and knock against his side with a lopsided grin. “The cafeteria should be open soon. I have a map of the hospital in my bag so you won’t get lost.”

“Just for that, I’ll bring you two coffees.” He groans, standing up and stretching out. “I should get dressed.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be the only visitor to go get coffee in your jammies.” Far from it, if you had to hazard a guess.

He snorts slightly. “I don’t doubt it. But I would hate to steal any of Juan’s new dad thunder.” He jokes, winking at you.

“Juan will be doing everything in bespoke suits with giant buttons that exclaim New Dad! for everyone he meets.” It’s sweet to think about, now that the fear is mostly past. It won’t wither entirely until you get to see mother and baby, but that should be soon.

“Of course he will.” Marcus laughs. “He’s already got an app on his phone that is just for organizing pictures of the baby.”

“Make sure you get the name of it,” you tease, leaning over to kiss him and getting one last stretch in — right into his arms. “We’ll need that for our kids, I’m sure.”

“You know it.” Marcus grins. “I’ve already downloaded it. It also has a wedding portion of the app. Basically you can upload all your important moments in it.” He doesn’t mention that he had set it up for the proposal that didn’t happen last night.

“You think of everything.” He really does, so it’s barely even an embellishment. At this point you’re just relieved that you can think of small things again instead of the larger, overhanging fear of just a few hours ago.

“Not everything.” Marcus snorts, winking at you. “Otherwise, I would have had coffee delivered by now.”

“Mostly everything, then.” One more kiss and you pull back to get your things sorted out around the room. “I’m going to tidy up a little and get out a couple of comfort things for Syd. So when she comes down she’ll have her favorite cardigan and things like that.” Absolutely anything you can do to soothe your best friend’s hellish night, you’re going to.

“That sounds perfect.” Marcus agrees. “I’ll go grab the coffee. What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Just my usual.” Your hum of appreciation is more relaxed than it would have been earlier in the night. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” He promises as he quickly starts changing into the clothes he had brought.

Marcus is gone for about a half an hour before the door to the room opens again, but when it does it's Juan there – holding the door open wide as one of the overnight workers from the transport department wheels Sydney's bed back into the room with her nurse hot on their heels.

“We are back.” His tone is exhausted but elated at the same time. It’s been a sleepless night for him. Afraid that he would close his eyes and Sydney would be gone.

"How are you feeling, honey?" You're at Sydney's side as soon as the nurse is done getting her settled. The woman has the patience of a saint and excuses herself to go retrieve Constance, who is being allowed to leave the NICU.

“Tired. Sore.” She admits with a quick, tired smile. “Impatient to hold my daughter.”

"She'll be down soon." Glancing at the door where the nurse has disappeared to bring around that same little girl, the warmth in the room starts to grow exponentially. "Marcus went to get coffees. And I'll bring sushi for lunch. Cross my heart."

“I don’t know if I’m hungry.” Sydney admits with a slight shrug. She’s still a little disoriented from the drugs. “But coffee sounds amazing. I could sleep for days.”

"Then we won't worry about food right now. But Marcus is bringing back coffee for you, and he should be back very soon." You grin at your friends and send them both a conspiratorial shrug. "I sent him with a map, otherwise you know he would have gotten lost."

Juan laughs as he fuses over Sydney, hovering as if she might disappear if he steps too far away. “He should have been a Lieutenant in the military, as bad as he is.”

“I’ve just learned to always have a map for new places or to set up the gps in his car without asking.” It’s a quirk, and you all have them, but Marcus’s ability to get lost almost anywhere is a standing joke between the four of you and it’s so, so good to hear Syd laugh. Even if it’s only a little, it’s completely worth it.

The knock on the door comes just a moment later and Marcus pokes his head in. “Oh you’re here!” He brightens up and pushes the door open, the delivery person from the flower shop hot on his heels. “I was hoping to get all this inside before you did.”

“We just got back.” Syd is groggy for sure, but not so badly that she doesn’t register the tray of coffees and bag of food with the hospital’s cafe logo on it that you jump forward to snag from him and the delivery of flowers that comes in behind him. With the tension and fear of the last few hours and all the emotions and hormones still raging in her, Sydney is immediately in tears. “You—you got flowers?” She half-squalls like it’s the kindest and most loving thing any person has ever done in the history of time. For her, especially right now, it definitely feels like it.

“Ohhhh don’t cry.” Marcus frets slightly, even though he’s pretty sure that they are happy tears. “I wanted you and Constance to have a beautiful reminder of how loved you both are.” He walks over to the recovering woman, that he now regards as his friend, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “More are coming too.” He promises.

“It’s so sweet!” Syd huffs between large tears, hugging Marcus as tightly as her recovering body will permit. “You’re so sweet.” Even after we interrupted your plans, she thinks loudly, but manages not to say it. She knows what last night was supposed to be and she hated having to call when she knew Marcus was about to sweep you out the door.

“You deserve nothing but happiness right now.” He promises, looking over at Juan and squeezing Sydney gently before he pulls back and moves over to the new father. “Congratulations.” He is somber, aware of what the agony of the night had done to his friend.

“It was a hell of a night.” Juan pulls Marcus in for a hug — something the two men need right now for grounding, but Juan also murmur, “And sorry for the timing” to Marcus before pulling away.

“Don’t ever worry about that.” Marcus insists. “Doesn’t matter if I was in the middle of it, we would have been on our way.” Yes, proposing to you and giving you a beautiful moment is important to him; but some things are always much more important and this is at the top of that priority list.

“We’ll make it work.” Juan promises quietly, glad to see you absorbing Sydney in conversation while she marvels at the flowers that Marcus ordered.

“How’s Constance doing?” Marcus asks quietly, not seeing the bassinet in the room. “Will she be released from the NICU soon?”

“Our doc said she’s stable, so she can come down and have some family time and be fed.” As a brand new father of only about two and a half hours, that has Juan both puffing out his chest and teary with pride. “The nurse should be bringing her down now.”

“That’s great!” Marcus grins, knowing that both mama and daddy will feel better with their newborn daughter in their room.

Having settled Sydney with her coffee and treat — Marcus brought muffins back from the cafe — you excuse yourself to the bathroom and feel like you can finally breathe. Syd is here. You can hear her muffled laughing through the door. And the baby will be down soon. Everyone is okay.

“Looks Marcus…” Sydney’s voice is hushed and he can tell by her guilty expression what is coming. “Please, don’t apologize again.” He begs her softly. “There is nothing to apologize for.”

“I can call Kingbird,” she offers immediately. Explain it was my fault you had to cancel and get you a new reservation.”

“No.” He shakes his head and glances back at the bathroom. “I don’t think she’s going to be leaving your side for quite awhile and I cannot in good conscience try to convince her otherwise.”

He insists that she shouldn’t apologize more but Sydney still feels like she ought to, pursing her lips until she eventually tilts her head to look up at the men standing side by side at her bed. “You could still do it tonight if you wanted to,” she offers. It’s technically morning now — past six, anyway — but she hasn’t gotten any sleep yet so everything blends together. “It…” she blows out a sigh. “I know it wasn’t the easiest night.” For her especially. “But it would be nice to have Constance’s birth surrounded by happiness. Instead of what might have happened.”

Marcus considers it for a moment, frowning slightly and he bites his lip. “That is— are you sure?” He would never want to take away from Constance and her birth.

Sydney sits back in her hospital bed and takes Juan’s hand, letting him anchor her the way you always do with Marcus. “I don’t want the only thing I remember about the day my daughter was born to be that both of us almost died,” she admits quietly, knowing it’s a little selfish to ask him for this but also knowing that the happy memories you make together mean everything to the four of you.

He can understand that and he bites his lip. “Then….what do you think about me proposing here?” He asks. “It’s not the most romantic setting, but I think under the circumstances, it’s the best place to do it.”

“There’s flowers and best friends and I know you brought her back her favourite muffin.” Juan chuckles, feeling a bit misty eyed over more good things happening. “What’s more romantic than that?”

“Maybe we can do something that involves the baby?” Marcus suggests.

“I will squall.” Sydney warns, already tearing up all over again. “But quickly before she comes back…wrap the ring box in the baby blanket?”

“Perfect.” Marcus dives for the bag that had been packed for Constance and finds the soft baby blanket they had decided to wrap her in while in the hospital. “When the baby comes in, ask her to get the blanket for you.” Marcus tells Sydney.

“If we can keep a straight face,” Syd laughs, but agrees immediately.

Marcus hides the ring box in the folds of the blanket. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“More than.” Sydney promises, right before the bathroom door opens.

You had washed up a little again, refreshing yourself and feeling a little more human while you were in the bathroom. “Did you manage to rest a little while you were upstairs?” Your focus is right back on Sydney but you take a second to give Marcus a kiss of thanks when he hands you your coffee.

“Yes.” She’s still tired and exhausted, but she smiles. “I did, you don’t worry about me.” She huffs, knowing that it won’t do any good. You will fret over her just like Juan will. “Looking forward to sushi later.”

“We’ll have a sushi party and baby girl can get milk drunk like a party animal.” Making the best of what had been a nearly calamitous situation is good for everyone’s spirits right now. You help the guys set up a little area as a breakfast ‘table’ for the three of you and set Sydney’s things on her tray. It’s about time for the morning shows that Juan loves so the tv goes on, and seconds later the nurse enters with her bundled up charge yawning as loudly as her little lungs can manage.

“Oh my god.” Marcus coos as soon as he sees the little angel in the flesh. She is perfect and nothing will convince him otherwise, falling in love with his goddaughter in a split second. “She’s so precious.”

“She’s perfect.” As expected, Sydney and Juan are both in tears all over again, and the nurse who helped Sydney get comfortable upstairs makes sure Mom and Dad have everything they need before bowing out to let the family bond.

“She’s beyond perfect.” It’s all you can do not to cry with them, looking at your best friend and goddaughter together.

“Isn’t she?” Sydney completely agrees as she finally gets to hold her newborn daughter. Completely in awe of how perfect she is.

The room is practically full of the sound of smiling, whatever that really is, but you end up half-laughing under your breath and looking to Marcus with fresh water behind your eyes. "I want one too," you laugh, overwhelmed with absolute joy and love.

He laughs at your eagerness, the yearning and knows that you are only partially joking. “I don’t know if we could top how perfect she is.” He admits with his own chuckle.

"Maybe not." The only possible place for you to be right now is snuggled into his side and you tuck yourself in there to just stare at your goddaughter together. "We can't know until we try, though."

Sydney spares a glance at Marcus, who nods as he holds you close. “We have to get through a few other things first.” He reminds you.

"I know." You hum when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and sigh again. "I just love her so much and I wanna give her everything. Including playmates."

Sydney coos at Constance and cuddles her closer. “Birdie, would you get me her baby blanket?” She asks softly. “From her bag? I want her in the things we picked out.”

"Yeah, of course!" You hop to immediately, slipping out of Marcus's arms to go to the bag Sydney packed. The baby blanket from Sydney's parents is folded near the top. It's a light thing, a beautiful hand knitted piece done in their chosen color of green and then embroidered with the initials CMB for Constance Marie Badillo.

The blanket slips a little in your hand when you pick it up, and when you go to right it a small but weighty something falls out from the center. The realization that it's probably something that Juan tucked away as a surprise for Sydney has you tucking it back inside quickly and handing over the blanket like you're suddenly holding a hot potato.

Sydney hadn’t been expecting you to hand over the blanket so fast so she pushes towards you again for a moment. “Hold it please.” She requests, knowing you will do anything. She has to give Marcus time to get into position.

"Of course," you agree again, bobbing your head on a nod. Glancing over at Juan makes you wonder if you should do something to help, like opening up the blanket so she can see the little jewelry box or something. Maybe hold it sort of presentationally? You can't quite make up your mind and end up clutching the blanket to your chest in surprise when you hear Marcus clear his throat and whirl around to see him down on one knee in the middle of the little hospital room.

That jewelry box was definitely not for Sydney...

“Before you panic, I have the happy new parent’s permission.” Marcus promises as he reaches for the hand that is not clutching the blanket protectively. “And today is a celebration. Of life, and love.” He tells you softly.

"Oh my god." It's just about all you can think to say as you choke on a fresh round of tears and tighten your fingers in his hand.

“I know.” Marcus flashes you a grin. “Sweetheart, there is no one else I want by my side, confiding in, planning for the future and sharing part of my soul with.” He promises you. “I love everything about you and there is not one thing that I could possibly imagine changing. I love your loyalty to friends and family, your work ethic and your tenacity. Your tender heart and your penchant for dreaming.” He takes a big breath, clearly saying your full name. “Will you marry me?”

He can barely finish the question before your thick, cracking voice is chirping endless yeses. Before you're crumpling to your knees to kiss him, cradling the blanket between you as delicately as if the baby was already wrapped in it. "I love you" gets mixed in with all the "Yes!" and more "Oh my god" as if you can't quite believe that it's finally happening. From the moment that the two of you individually became a unit, you've both known that this was the direction you were heading in. But now that you're here? It feels even better than you could ever have guessed.

He knew your answer, he’s known it, but he still giggles in relief and cupping your cheek to kiss you. “I love you.” He promises softly, pecking your lips again and again. He hears both Juan and Sydney sniffling happily and knows this was the right call.

For a moment the room is just happy tears and sniffles and giggling, and you’re both so jittery that you get a little mixed up in retrieving the ring box from deep inside the handmade baby blanket in your arms. Marcus had said he bought your promise and engagement rings together so they would match and of course his decision is perfect — the haloed diamond stands out over heart shaped stones of the promise ring he gave you months ago, and the fact that they’re from him makes them so perfect you could just fall apart right here in his arm.

“It was.” He admits with a modest tilt of his head. “But I think that this might be even better. “Your best friend and goddaughter got to witness it.”

“And your best friend too.” No one who ever ran into Marcus and Juan now would think they had spent so many years apart. They’re more likely to be mistaken for twins than anything else, and actually had been on a dinner out a few weeks ago.

“It makes it better than anything else.” He nods in agreement, looking over at your friends. “We are friends and family.”

“Matron of honor and best man?” It’s hardly a question, but Marcus has slipped the beautifully shimmering engagement ring onto your finger and you glance back over at your tearful friends with absolute joy. “And the tiniest, sweetest, most perfect little flower girl in the whole world?”

“The perfect flower girl.” Marcus agrees with his own emotional chuckle. “And of course they are our matron of honor and best man. What else could they possibly be?”

“Your caterer.” Syd half-complains with a pout, but it’s so half-hearted that she just ends up laughing through the tears. “Get over here and let us hug you two, and meet your goddaughter up close. Obviously we’re going to be whatever you want us to be. All three of us.”

“Not going to happen.” Marcus snorts, shooting Sydney a smile. “You’re going to participate in the reception. But…” he shrugs. “We will let you create our menu.”

“Here we go.” Juan teases, gently taking the baby blanket out of your arms to wrap up his daughter with the already precious heirloom. “Breakfast and wedding planning.” He grins down at Sydney. “I’ll get your notebook and take notes. You focus on our angel.”

Marcus laughs because he knows that’s exactly what will happen. Although there might be a little more cooing over the baby than anything else going on. As it is, he can’t wait to get his hands on her.

“I already know what wedding cake you want.” Syd grins, readjusting in her seat so this conversation can include food for everyone, including little Constance. She’s already gotten her little girl to latch once without a hellish amount of trouble so she’s hoping to do it on her own this time.

There has already been plenty of conversation about Sydney breastfeeding, but Marcus busies himself with his bag while she gets her daughter situated. It’s not because he’s weirded out, just a respect thing, giving the new mother time to get used to being exposed without feeling like she’s in a fishbowl.

“I’m covered,” Sydney assures him, after a few minutes of fussing where Marcus does anything but look directly at her. His respect level is top notch and she appreciates that about him. “Let’s talk food, please? And—” Before she can even ask, Juan is handing her a cup of water and she melts and murmurs a quiet “Thank you.”

“I just wanted to give you some time.” Marcus joins the small group, sitting down when you stand up and pulling you into his lap while Juan sits on the bed with his wife and child. “So right off the bat, what’s your first ideas?” He’s smart enough to know the final menu will be completely different from the first one.

“Americana.” You and Sydney grin at each other and you lean back in Marcus’s lap to sip your coffee while you talk. “Updated versions of classic American dishes.”

“What would that look like?” He asks, frowning in confusion. “Meat loaf?”

“Could be.” Sydney nods. “It could be things like gourmet versions of tv dinners.”

“Or it could be modern versions of older popular dishes,” you nod in agreement. “Like upscale Steak Diane or deconstructed chicken pot pie.”

“Finger foods?” Marcus asks. “I’m sure there will have to be a buffet of canapés.”

“Depends on the events.” Smiling around a sip of iced coffee, you press a kiss to Marcus’s temple a second later. “I’m thinking four.”

“Four events?” Marcus chuckles. “That’s bachelorette party, bridal shower, rehearsal dinner and wedding?”

“Maybe five,” you admit with a sheepish grin. “You said you wanted to have an engagement party.”

“I think that it’s a good place for the publicity your mom wants.” He reminds you.

“Five events is a lot, but if we space them out I think we can manage it.” Looking down at him with an absolute glow on your face, your brand new engagement ring catches the light and makes your chest swell. “What season do you want to get married in?”

“Any one you want.” It’s fair in his mind, he’s been married before and all that matters to him is that you repeat your vows in front of friends and family. What the weather is like doesn’t matter a lick to him. “I guess it depends on how fast we can get it planned?”

“Don’t do less than six months,” Juan warns. His cousin had rushed things to disastrous consequences.

“I wouldn’t.” You can totally agree to that. “My impulse would be to say a year but…I’ve kind of always liked the idea of a summer wedding.” Chewing on the idea, you turn your eyes back down to Marcus again. “Roses stop blooming at the end of the summer.”

“Early fall?” He suggests. “October? It gives us seven months. And you will more than likely have White House help.” He shrugs. “Along with mine, of course.”

“If we did October, maybe I can do a summer bridal shower in the White House rose garden?” Your eyes widen, practically begging. “I would really love to use the rose garden.”

“Then you better make sure your mom doesn’t book it for a tea party.” He teases with a wink, reaching for your hand that now holds his engagement ring. “I think October is perfect. Hell, we could do a Halloween rehearsal dinner.” He jokes.

“Don’t even tease me about that,” you huff. A Halloween event would be exactly your style. “Halloween next year is on a Wednesday, otherwise I would be begging you to get married on Halloween.”

“Baby, if that’s what you want….” He shoots Juan a grin and shrugs. “I’m okay with that.”

“I don’t want to get married on a Wednesday night.” No one parties deep into a Wednesday night in their thirties. It doesn’t feel as special to you. “How about we get married earlier in October and I talk you into visiting the Paris catacombs with me on Halloween night during our honeymoon?”

“That works for me just as easily as anything else.” Marcus promises. “Only thing I care about is you and I celebrating our love and making a public commitment to each other.”

“I love you, too.” If it were just the two of you, you would be getting dressed to run off to a soulmate chapel immediately. But promises have been made and they need to be honored, and every chance to declare your love for Marcus loud and clear is worth taking. “Any Pike family traditions we should keep in mind that I don’t know about already?”

Marcus smiles. “There’s a jewelry set that is passed down to be used in the wedding, if wanted.” He adds. “It was my great, great grandmother’s.”

“Really?” Your expression softens immediately, eyes widening a little, and you nod right away. There is no question in your mind that you’re going to wear it. “Your Mom swore to pass down some family recipes after the wedding but she never mentioned heirlooms.”

“It’s only ever offered after the engagement.” He explains. “We had a certain cousin’s wife - I’m sure you can guess who - think that it was for her to keep.”

When Sydney and Juan look equal parts amused and confused, you snicker slightly. “Hannah has very interesting thoughts about the family,” you tell them, glossing over the few less than kind things Hannah Pike had said either to you or that had been relayed to you. “Which reminds me. I’m absolutely going to ask Selena to be a bridesmaid.”

“Sydney, you will love her.” Marcus promises. “She’ll be flying out every other weekend to help you plan.” He warns you. “Or just staying out here, she can work from anywhere.”

“She’s been thinking about moving,” you admit, barely biting back a grin at how much fun it would be to have her nearby permanently. Marcus’s cousin has become one of your closest friends in the months since your first visit to Texas. “She said she wants to come see what winter is like here to make sure it’s not too bad, but her office is opening a DC branch and asked her if she would be interested in heading up the new team out here.”

“How do you know that and I don’t?” He asks, putting on a faux pout.

“Because she hasn’t told your aunt and uncle yet and she didn’t want it to get back to the family.” That grin of yours becomes full force and you kiss his temple again. “She was trying to save you from having to lie if you got asked.”

“Well, then, you didn’t say anything to me.” He mimes zipping his lips and locking them to throw away the key.

"Probably a good policy," you agree, snickering quietly even as you squeeze his shoulders tightly.

There’s a sense of lazy content in the room. Everyone slowly savors the baked goods that Marcus had brought and sips their coffee. The baby, Constance, is the noisiest of them all, her hungry sucking and grasping one that makes all the adults smile as they look at her every thirty seconds.

She is Sydney’s entire focus, and when the baby is done with her own breakfast there is a little fuss over making sure she’s burped properly before she cuddles up against her mother’s chest to have a post-meal nap. Something that makes Sydney sigh in relief and hold her close. “You’d never know how bad last night almost was by looking at her.”

“Children are resilient.” Marcus muses. “She will never remember her birth and be completely unaffected by it, while it will stay with us forever.”

“All the better.” Sydney soothes one hand over her sleeping daughter’s back.

Marcus watches the loving gesture, almost aching for the time where he can watch you soothe the children you will have together. Will you look as much like Madonna and Child like Sydney does now? He thinks it will be even more profound like undoubtedly Juan feels like it is.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

[shall-we-die]

I need something angsty about OM character's reactions to MC's death...

╔‌‌‌‌═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚

{"Open your eyes...!"}

What are their reactions after MC's death in human world by an accident?

☰[Main list]•⊰ Obey me!

╚═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

[Lucifer]

The thought of losing his beloved to an accident in the human world would be a devastating blow to Lucifer. He would be deeply saddened and utterly heartbroken, feeling empty and lost. He would also be filled with grief and guilt, blaming himself for not being able to prevent the tragedy and thinking he should have done more to protect them. Lucifer would be grief-stricken and consumed by sadness, feeling as if he lost his own light and hope. However, Lucifer would never give up on the idea of seeing his beloved again and would fight for a way to bring them back, no matter what it takes. When Lucifer hugs MC's dead body, he would be filled with sorrow, grief, and regret. He would sob and weep, his tears falling upon the body of his beloved. Lucifer would mourn deeply and not want to let go, wanting to stay by their side forever. He would whisper words of love, comfort, and apology, apologizing for not having done enough to protect them. "MC... I'll love you forever... no matter what, I'll find you again..." "sorry for always being grumpy and cruel with you... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Lucifer's love for his beloved is eternal and will never fade away, so the thought of saying goodbye forever would be too painful for him and he would do everything in his power to find a way to bring MC back.

[Mammon]

If MC were to die in the human world due to an accidental incident, the news would no doubt hit Mammon hard. He would be in shock and disbelief, unable to accept the truth. Once he finally processed the truth, he'd be filled with grief and sadness. He might lash out in anger and denial, blaming the world and himself for allowing this to happen. He might even feel like he's to blame, believing he could have prevented the accident if he had only been there. Eventually, he would come to terms with MC's death, but his grief would always remain. If Mammon were to embrace MC's dead body, he would likely be overcome with grief and tears. He might cry out in despair and frustration, cursing the universe for taking away his precious love. He might also ask for forgiveness and beg for the ability to turn back time. Mammon would likely cling to the body, not wanting to let go of the only thing remaining of  MC. He might whisper sweet nothings into MC's ear, or even try to wake them up, hoping that it's just a nightmare and that MC isn't really gone. He would whisper their names, saying things like, " MC... MC... please wake up... don't leave me... please..." (OK, this dude hurts for the second time because of MC's death and it's sad...)

[Leviathan]

Leviathan would be absolutely devastated if MC died in the human world. he would be in denial that it was true and search for months on end to find a way to bring them back. he would be unable to cope with their death and would become distant and quiet. he would struggle to carry on with his duties in the devildom and would struggle to focus on anything else. it would shatter his world in a way that he would never recover from, and he would never forgive himself for letting such a tragic thing happen. Leviathan would likely be hugging MC's dead body tightly, not wanting to let them go. he would cry and mourn their death. he would say things like "no, no, it's not fair. it can't be real" and "why did you leave me alone?" and if MC's death was caused by an accident, he would likely blame himself and say things such as "I should've been careful. I should've done more." and "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for things to end this way." he would be in utter disbelief and despair, as he struggles to cope with the loss.

[Satan]

Satan's reaction to the death of MC would be one of grief and sorrow. He would be deeply affected by the loss and would likely mourn intensely. He would be filled with sadness and guilt, wondering if there was anything he could have done to prevent it. He would also feel a deep sense of loneliness and emptiness, as a part of himself would be gone with MC. He would likely blame himself for not doing enough to protect them and would be haunted by the thought of having lost someone so precious to him. When Satan finds himself hugging the dead body of MC, he would likely be filled with intense grief. He would cling tightly to MC's body, wanting to take comfort in them even though they are no longer alive. He may also speak to the dead body, expressing his sorrow and anguish. He would probably say things like "I'm so sorry" or "Please come back." He might even cry and wail in grief, unable to come to terms with the fact that MC is gone. He would likely be unable to think of anything else, consumed by sadness and pain.

[Asmodeus]

The news of MC's death would hit Asmodeus hard. He would be devastated and inconsolable, as the love of his life was taken away from him without any warning. He would be filled with so much grief and regret, that MC had to die such a horrible death, when they were supposed to be happy and together. He would likely shut himself from everyone, as he couldn't handle the pain or talking to anyone. He'd just stay in his room and sob, remembering all the happy memories he shared with them and wishing they'd be able to create even more. Asmodeus would hug MC's dead body tightly and desperately while crying and sobbing, refusing to believe that they're gone. He would say things along the line of "No, this can't be happening.. please.. Don't leave me.. I need you..." and even ask for MC to wake up and answer him, as he can't believe that they're really dead. He'd try to talk to MC's dead body, wishing that it'd answer and come back to him, while hugging them tighter and refusing to let go.

[Beelzebub]

Beelzebub would be absolutely devastated by MC's death. He would be in shock, denial, and disbelief all at the same time. He would blame himself for not protecting MC and for not being with them at the time of their demise. He would grieve deeply and mourn their loss. He would feel empty without MC in his life and would be haunted by memories of their time together. He would try to hold it together and stay strong, but the grief would be too much for him. He would eventually try to find a way to revive MC, no matter the cost. Beelzebub would cling tightly to MC's body, unwilling to let go even in death. He would cry and sob, regretting all the times they fought and wishing he had appreciated their time together more. He would beg for MC to come back to him and would plead with every deity he knows to revive MC. He would swear to give up anything if it meant having MC back with him. As he gazes down at MC's body, he would recall all their happy memories together. The time they met, their first kiss, and all the special moments they had shared would flood his mind.

[Belphegor]

If MC passed away in the human world, Belphegor would be absolutely devastated and heartbroken. They would be overcome with grief, guilt, and regret, wondering if there was more they could have done to prevent this from happening. They would feel completely and utterly lost. They would be unable to comprehend how someone so precious to them could suddenly be taken away from them. As time passes, Belphegor may learn to cope with the loss, but the pain of missing MC would never fade or go away completely. Belphegor would be in shock and denial when they find MC's dead body. They would refuse to believe that it's happening and would beg and plead for them to wake up, to come back to them. When reality finally sets in, Belphegor would be stricken with grief and sorrow. They would hold MC closely, crying and sobbing, whispering apologies and expressions of love. They would want nothing more than to go back in time and save them, but they would also know that nothing could make it better. They would feel lost and empty, empty of love and of hope.

[Diavolo]

Diavolo would be absolutely devastated by MC's death and would struggle to find words to describe how much pain and sorrow he is filling.  He would blame himself and be overcome by guilt and regret, tormenting himself over what he could have done differently.  He might even shut himself off and distance himself from everyone else as he tries to process the devastating loss of MC, and might even become depressed and hopeless, thinking nothing matters anymore.  He would most likely consider following them after death, as he sees no point to living in a world without MC's warmth and light. When hugging MC's dead body, Diavolo would most likely cry profusely, sobbing and clinging to them as he is overcome with unbearable sorrow and agony.  He might even be shaking and trembling for a while, completely at a loss for words and unable to function properly.  He could say things like "No, no, it's not true, it can't be.  You can't be gone, I can't be without you," or "Why did this have to happen? I tried so hard to save you, I should have been more careful, this is all my fault."

[Barbatos]

When the news of MC's death in the human world reached Barbatos, he would drop everything he was doing and flew as fast as he could to see for himself that it was a mistake. He would spend hours looking for MC, checking around and in the most unexpected places, hoping it was all a mistake or a lie. Even if there were any signs that the news was true, the demon would deny it and hold to the hope that everything was a lie. He would not believe MC is dead until he himself saw MC lying still with his own eyes. Barbatos, when standing before MC's lifeless body, would break down completely. His wings tucked themselves underneath his clothing as he took in the sight that was burned into his mind. He would blame himself because he had the power to see the future, BUT he didn't use that damn power... He refused to believe that MC was dead, holding on to their body and clinging onto it as if trying one last time to bring them back to life. He'd kiss their forehead and whisper words of comfort. The demon would stay like that for an eternity, sobbing and hugging MC's body before accepting the truth.

[Simeon]

Upon learning about MC's death, Simeon would be deeply saddened and grief-stricken. He would likely be overcome with regret and guilt, and blame himself for not being able to save them. Simeon would grieve deeply for MC and have trouble coming to terms with the loss. He would also feel lonely and empty without MC, and would likely question the meaning of life without them. He would struggle to cope with the loss and would need time to heal and to move on. When Simeon first finds out about MC's death, he would likely be in shock and disbelief. He would rush to MC's side, hoping against all hope that it was a mistake or that they were still alive. Upon seeing their lifeless body and realizing that it was true, Simeon would be overwhelmed with grief. He would spend time hugging MC's body and refusing to let go, trying in vain to bring them back to life. He would likely say things like, "No, it can't be. This can't be happening. Please wake up, my love. Please." And finally, he has to break the news to Luke. But he will be so sad and upset that he can't comfort Luke either.

[Solomon]

If MC were to pass away in the human world due to an accident, Solomon would be utterly heartbroken and devastated. His grief and sadness would be immense and all-consuming. Solomon would be overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness and regret, as he would likely blame himself for not being able to protect MC, or for not being there at that moment. He might feel a sense of guilt and longing, and mourn the loss of the love, the future, and life that they were meant to have together. His mourning process would be long and difficult, and it might even bring him to the point of despair. Upon meeting MC's lifeless body, Solomon would likely be filled with shock, disbelief, and overwhelming grief. He would embrace their body and cradle them closely, not wanting to let them go. He would likely say things like: "This can't be happening...this can't be true...please, wake up..." "How could this happen? I...I should have been there...I should have protected you...." "Please, don't leave me, my love...not like this..." "You...you can't leave me alone...Please, I can't survive without you..."

[ghuleh-witch]

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Teen Warnings: GHOVIE SPOILERS, references to death and grief Relationships: Copia x GN Reader Characters: Copia, GN Reader, unnamed Sister of Sin Additional Tags: gender neutral reader, comfort fic, slight dirty talk, no beta Chapter Word Count: 970 Summary: Copia is getting fitted for his new uniform and is having doubts about his promotion. Author’s Note: Ignore that the cover image is the cardinal uniform, I'm trying to make this part as spoiler-free as possible. Also, apologies for any spelling or grammar errors. I won't be posting this to Ao3 until after the ghovie is done airing in theaters.

He was being fitted for his new uniform when you walked into your shared chambers.

In the middle of the living room, he stood on a step stool in front of a mirror while a Sister of Sin knelt on the ground behind him pinning the hem of his trousers legs. You’d seen the woman before. She always did Copia’s tailoring, and it seemed now was no different. From your angle, the uniform looked similar to the black suits he wore as a cardinal—sleek, soft, and formfitting. You took the time to run your eyes over his backside, admiring the dips and curves that the fabric seemed to cling to before realizing that Copia’s eyes were on you in the mirror.

“Do you like what you see, il mio tesoro?” He asked, turning his head slightly to look at you.

You walked forward and around the stepstool to his front and gasped audibly. His uniform was tailored to perfection. The black, sparkling clerical collar sat at the base of his throat. On the sharply pointed lapels of his jacket were large rubies surrounded by small, gleaming onyx gems. The chains that hung from them led to an onyx-encrusted grucifix with a small ruby pendant hanging from the bottom. It was different from anything he wore before, but you could see the subtle nods to his prior outfits.

“Oh my god,” you said. You looked him up and down and marveled over the magnificent man in front of you. “You look amazing!”

A slight blush crossed his cheeks as he looked down at you. “Thank you, amore,” he said looking back at himself in the mirror. “It’s quite different from what I wore as Papa. But also not…” He was silent for a moment—lost deep in his own thoughts. You knew he replayed the events that led him here. You were at the hotel waiting for him to finish the show the night Sister Imperator passed. Swiss called you to tell you what happened and how you needed to get down to the venue right away. You knew you’d never forget how he looked when you found him sitting on a bench behind the Forum. He was still in shock; his paints streaked and smeared from crying and his red sparkling jacket was discarded on the seat next to him. Your heart broke for him. What should have been the best night of his life had become the worst. 

He told you about the letter Sister left him that named him head of the clergy. It wasn’t what he wanted though. You knew if he could continue on as Papa he would, but Copia had come to terms that his time on stage was over and that his purpose was now to help bring the dawn of the new era for the Ministry. You watched as he shifted his weight nervously on the stool and you felt your heartbreak for him all over again. 

“Sorella, can you give us a minute?” Copia asked as the sister returned her pins to the pin cushion on her wrist.

“No problem Pa—I mean Frater,” she said. Her face flushed slightly from the accidental slip-up. She bowed her head and walked out the front door of the apartment. 

Once the door had closed with a soft click, Copia carefully stepped off the stool and sighed. “I can’t do this,” he confessed.

“What are you talking about?” You asked brow furrowed with concern. 

“This,” he said, gesturing to his outfit and sighing. “I can’t lead the clergy. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m an entertainer. I’m a singer. I can’t do what she did.” 

“Baby,” you said gently as you stepped closer and cupped his face between your hands. His painted eyes were downcast and there was a slight tremble to his lip. “You can do this. I know change is scary. All this is scary for me too, but change is inevitable. We all must go through it. You, me, the whole ministry, and all the Ghost fans—We are all experiencing this change together. You are not alone in this, I promise. I will be at your side through it all.  If Sister…If your mother didn’t believe you could do this she wouldn’t have named you Frater Imperator.”

“Sì, I know,” he sighed. “Can’t blame a guy for being nervous though.”

“I know, I know,” you replied. Your hands left his cheeks and smoothed the lapels of his jacket. “If it helps, you look hot as fuck in the new uniform though.”

Copia chuckled as his arms encircled you and pulled you closer. “Thank you, amore. It does help.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, the paint of his upper lip now smeared slightly. His hands ran down your sides before they came to rest on your hips. “Wanna show me how hot this getup makes me?” He smirked.

You couldn’t help but smile as every filthy thought crossed your mind. You looked him up and down, noticing the growing bulge in his already tight pants. “I would, but we probably shouldn’t ruin these clothes just yet. They’re not even officially done,” you said as you glanced down at the colorful pins lining the fabric around his ankles. “I don’t want to mess up all that poor sister’s hard work.”

He let out an exergated groan. “Fine,” he said before he smiled at you. “But you owe me. I need to celebrate becoming Frater somehow.” 

“Oh once this is finished and you have a spare set, I fully plan on letting you bend me over the closest service and ravish me while wearing this.” You smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “Come on, let’s get this fitting finished up. I have a couple ideas of how we can celebrate once you’re done.”

[elbdot]

I love your Pokemon comics so much! I've reread them a ton of times, EAA has become such a comfort read. I just adore how you make Alola feel so alive, and the characters all feel so much more complex and interesting. Out of curiosity, were there other comics (Pokemon or otherwise) that inspired you? And are there other Pokemon fan comics you like or would recommend?

AWWWW Thank you so much!! 🥹🥰 Actually, I wasn't really inspired by any other Pokemon comics at the time I began making my first short comics. Despite Pokemon having one of THE most MASSIVE fandoms on the internet, it's honestly surprising how little ongoing fancomics there are. I've seen many artists starting Nuzlocke comics but I only know of ONE artist who ever finished drawing one (And I'm ebarrassed to say I didn't fully read it yet and don't know the name of it anymore, it's been so long 😂)

I think if there was any comic inspiration at the time in 2016, it must have been the webcomic Avas Demon. Not in terms of STORY or genre, but in terms of how the story was told in a 16:9 format like a storyboard or color test for an animated movie. I took a lot of inspiration from that in the way I boarded the comic and wanted to make it feel like a movie sequence, making more individual panels with varying expressions. But that ALSO ABSOLUTELY blew my work-load on each comic out of proportion, thus resulting in VERY irregular updates due to how detailed my backgrounds and shading became plus A LOT of additional poses like here for example:

I'm proud of what I created back then, but after the most recent Arc I have decided to step BACK from this approach and have now heavily simplified my shading and am experimenting with reusing backgrounds and using new panel sizes and formats 😂 You'll see what I mean in the upcoming update this week. Surprisingly enough, I don't think the quality of art has dropped because of these changes! Also my love for adding additional expressions between panels has remained, they're just my favorite thing to do to bring life to the comic!

[rainbowchaox]

QSMP! Phil Character Analysis and How It Relates to Pissa

Okay so this is primarily coming from my tired thoughts in the discord run by the true pissa general aka @pepper-mintzyy. I’m gonna flesh it out here with much more detail.

I first came to this whole analysis because Phil always makes subtle characters. Most of his characters don’t verbalize what his motives or emotions. And his characters are always on the show not tell. And this is important because this trait of our his characters is the same in Qsmp!Phil and it’s a important to realize how this is so important to the pissa ship as whole . Because it’s literally why cubito Phil reacts the way he does towards those he especially loves (Aka Missa)

Phil loves to be subtle with his characters. Like I said above he is a show not tell with his characters. Usually his characters are layered and complicated. So much so he is never really honest with his own emotions. Primarily as a way to make sure he is ready for the next threat. The next enemy. He worries so much for the possibilities of danger he feels he can’t be distracted by emotions. He rather repress emotions then those he loves and cares for actually be in danger because he couldn’t get his emotions in check.

So knowing this of course he got paired with Missa whose emotions bleed out like ink. For the better or for the worse (Maybe I will eventually do a twin analysis on Missa character and how it relates to the pissa ship on a later date.)

And this is unknown territory for Philza. Because Philza as a character is always in survival mode. Sure Missa is emotional and illogical at times. But Missa is kind and gentle. And Philza is not used to this. But Missa as a person brings calm and comfort. Philza doesn’t feel like he could be in fight any minute when he is with Missa. Sure Missa can’t protect him in terms of fighting mobs. But Philza doesn’t need him to do so. Philza just wants him there.

So of course Philza will start to see Missa differently. And I think he knows he loves Missa. Philza isn’t dumb to his own feelings. He just can’t bring himself to say it verbally in case of possible danger. It’s hard for him to do things that go against his idea of being ready, of being strong, of being able to not be weak. Even if his perceived weakness is actually a strength.

So his love for Missa primarily comes out in loyalty, of waiting for him to come back when anybody else would have given up, in gifts, and in simple gestures that look like nothing but is actually everything. In the fact he matched his backpack to fit Missa. The fact he was so worried about him when he came back. I truly believe he knows he loves Missa. But whether it’s the paranoia or stubbornness he can’t bring himself to show that fact so clearly.

He isn’t a idiot. He isn’t emotionless. He knows who he hates. Who annoys him. And who he loves. But showing that emotional side out in the open. To others who might use that fact against him to harm those he loves. He can’t have that.

So he never says I love you in words. He says I love you with new armor. He says I love you bandaging wounds. He says I love you watching your blind spot and protecting you in battle. He says I love you by giving you his utmost loyalty. A gift hardest to get and the hardest to lose. And maybe he never says I love you to Missa in words.

That doesn’t mean he loves Missa any less. They are equal in their adoration. Philza emotions are a flame under the ice. Intense in passion and loyalty. I think a part of him is scared of his own emotions. And it probably took him ages to get to a point where he could control the pyre so to speak.

But he is just a person. And people are all selfish to a point. He is a brewing contradiction of a man. He wants both worlds. He wants to proclaim he loves Missa on top of a mountain. He want’s everyone to be jealous of him and Missa. He wants a true commitment.

But also we wants safety, he wants logic, He wants not to be weak and to protect without being overwhelmed by his own emotions. He is a complicated contradiction of a man. And his actions hurt him more than anything. He wants to be with Missa so badly but he can’t bring himself to fully let himself. But the fact is he adores Missa. He will possibly do anything for Missa and his family. And maybe one day he can see. He can be the protector and have Missa in the way he actually wants. That he so called WEAKNESS might be his greatest strength. That loving someone doesn’t mean he will lose them right after. He loves Missa. And he fully want to scream that fact.

[strsburn]

sngä'ikrr [begin] ━ ˓𓄹 ࣪˖  neteyam [01.]

pairing - neteyam x fem! na'vi reader

synopsis - you have one subjective, find and bring back the olo'eyktan's daughter, no matter what.

see also - after witnessing your skills firsthand to protect his baby sister, neteyam becomes even more intrigued by you

warnings - reader being an absolute badass, some violence, minor injuries

notes - literally thank you so much, the prologue for sngä'ikrr [begin] has gotten so much attention and it surprised me, i am so grateful for everyone's nice comments and love and am excited to continue this story and build out these characters and their relationship that will continue to develop :')

please continue to leave feedback i love seeing your comments 💓

taglist ; @anm3mi @eywas-heir @ultimatebluff @bambisposts-blogs @velvtcherie @mashiromochi @northsoulss @koudnd @jkeluv @awriana

Your ears twitched atop your head, swiveling around as the sounds of the forest greeted you. You welcomed the smell of pandora, the feel of the soil beneath your feet a familiar sensation that allowed your body to relax as you trusted each of your senses to guide you to the path of the Olo'eyktan's lost daughter.

As you neared a large Yovo bush, a distressed sniffle reached your ears causing you to pause in your tracks as you lowered your bow. Following the treeline a dark blue tail with black tendrils flickered sadly as the owner of said tail continued to cry.

"Evi'" You called, using the affectionate term Ta'hlu referred to you. At your voice, the sniffling stop, the tail coming to a stiff halt in an almost comedic way. A small blue head peeked at you from beneath the leaves of the tree, looking down at you with wide eyes.

"Y/n?" Tuktirey voiced your name with shock, her glossy eyes surprised at the sight of you. You gave a small smile, as you motioned to where she sat.

"Your father has been worried for you, evi'. We could not find you." You told her, beginning to climb the tree after she allowed you up. At your words, she began to tear up again, no doubt overwhelmed by all that occurred.

"I didn't mean to worry them. I wanted to find some new fruit for sa'nok and couldn't remember the way back. I kept going and climbed this tree, do you think they'll be angry at me?" She asked with a worried frown. You sighed, opening your arm to allow her some comfort as she easily accepted it, her hair beads tickling your skin as they brushed over your arm.

"I think they will be relieved that you are home, Tuktirey. Upset? Yes, but only because they love you so much and it would pain them if something happened to you."

She sighed, understanding your point before she sat up with a bright grin.

"Thank you, y/n. But you know, we are friends now, so you can call me Tuk." You felt your heartstrings tug at her admission, and a soft smile grew on your face.

"Thank you Tuk, I could not ask for a better friend than you." She hugged you tightly around the neck as you patted her back gently, before offering your hand to help her down the tree.

Once the pair of you had reached the forest floor, you made to set off for Home Tree when a loud and wild snort had your tail swinging in alarm. You pushed Tuk behind you as an large angtsìk made its way into the clearing, it's eyes settling on you as it pawed the ground with fury, asserting it's dominance.

You narrowed your eyes, tail lashing out as you brandished your fangs in a loud hiss, ears pinned against your head. With your other hand, you reached for your blade keeping your eyes trained on your target.

Seeing the fire in your gaze, the angtsìk pounded it's hooves into the leaves and charged. You waited, counting each beat of its hooves down till the last second before you leapt for its back. It roared beneath your grip as you hung onto the roof of its head, your fingers digging into its scales.

Reering back with vengeance the animal struck you with it's head, the hard skin leaving a deep gash in your arm. Hissing, you grabbed the angtsìk by its head and held it while you swung your queue from behind, forming tsaheylu.

You closed your eyes as you felt the animal's fear, and it's anger, the strength beneath every breath, and the power in his stance.

Opening your eyes as the animal came to a slow trot, you ran your hand down it's side as you spoke softly.

"Mawey, I do not wish to fight." You felt peace rush through the bond and you smiled softly as you sat straighter on the angtsìk.

"Y/n!" You looked up as Tuk ran from behind the safety of her hiding place, making her way to your side. You smiled down at her as she looked up at you in awe.

"You managed to tame a angtsìk, you're so cool!" She exclaimed in excitement. You smiled at her before shaking your head in disagreement.

"No, Tuk. You cannot tame a beautiful creature such as this, we simply formed respect for one another. Now, come, we have been away for far too long."

Neteyam te Suli Neytiri'ite felt his heart pound beneath his azure skin, his ears twitching as he ventured deeper into the forest, trailing you.

He knew if his parents caught wind of his disappearance, they'd skin him, possibly tie his tail in a knot, eywa knows his mother was not one to be trifled with. But, he needed this. He yearned for the days before his near brush with death, the days where his family didn't walk on eggshells around him, was that the correct expression his father had taught him? Tail swishing, he focused back on task as he watched from beneath the leaves of a yovo bush as you, and his sister conversed.

He felt his heart rate slow as he gazed upon the form of his sister, happy to see you had kept your promise, and even more pleased at how you had comforted her. His heart rate increased considerably in those few moments of peace as a large angtsìk made its presence known as he watched in awe and trepidation as you managed to duel the beast and not only remain relatively unharmed but formed tsaheylu.

He felt his heart flutter in his chest, as he looked upon your form. You glowed with pride, honor, and love for your people. He felt his tail swaying with giddiness as unknown feelings crept up on him at the sight of your smile and he flinched as your eyes suddenly connected with his, from beneath his hiding place. He ducked, and taking one last glance at you he turned, and ran from the direction he came.

You watched with unbridled curiosity as the eldest of the Olo'eyktan's children, ran off, quite literally with his tail between his legs. You knew he only meant to see to it that you kept your promise in finding his sister, and based on how he had not made his presence known, he most likely was not meant to be there. So, you held your tongue, focusing on Tuk as she rambled on about her family and the new friends she had discovered while she was hiding in the trees.

As you returned to the base of hometree, you could see the Olo'eyktan, and his mate, along with the rest of your sisters, waiting for your return. You watched as their eyes widened upon seeing you on the back of an angtsìk, and you felt delight well in your chest as you disconnected the bond carefully, and dropped from the animal. You turned, and helped Tuk down as well as you brought her closer to her family, watching her mother hug her with tearful eyes as Toruk Makto caressed her head.

A nudge from behind had you turning to see the angtsìk who rumbled in displeasure at your departure, and you smiled as you pressed your forehead to his snout, leaning away carefully from his large fanned out horns.

"Irayo, my friend. I will call you, tíflrr. For you are brave, and gentle." You patted the angtsìk as he rumbled once again, pushing his head against your chest fondly before he turned and trotted back into the forest.

As you faced hometree, your ears pressed against your head in astonishment as the Olo'eyktan watched you with proud eyes. Putting your fingers to your forehead you greeted him, as he did the same.

"Toruk Makto." You stumbled to a bow, eyes downcast. Though you had been confident in your first meeting, you still felt intimidated by this warrior who had accomplished so much at your age.

A gentle head patted your shoulder, lifting you from your bow. You gazed into the warm eyes of Neytíri, a fearsome warrior, and legend amongst the na'vi. You held back a gasp as you realized your inspiration was standing before you.

"Irayo, y/n te Ta'hlu Ite. You have brought my daughter home, and formed tsaheylu with anangtsìk, one of the fiercest animals of our forests." You watched as the Olo'eyktan stepped up beside her, along with Ta'hlu who gazed at you with love and pride.

"Y/n, for your bravery, courage and responsibility for my daughter's safe return, we gift you this spear, wielded from the bark of hometree, vines from a yovo bush, and blessed by the ancestors." You felt tears form in your eyes, your ears twitching as cheers rang from the na'vi, calling your name. Everything you worked for up to this moment, to feel accepted, to feel worthy.

You locked eyes with Ta'hlu who nodded at you, holding her fingers to her forehead before bringing them down. You copied the gesture, hands shaking as you turned to accept the gift from the Olo'eyktan.

"Irayo, Toruk Makto. I will not forget this moment. I will do well to wield this spear proudly to honor you, and our people."

He smiled, playfully nudging you with his hand as he shook his head in disagreement.

"You do not need to address me as such, you may call me Jake Sully. You have done well, evi." You grinned, running your hand down the sharp point of the spear as your hair fell over your eyes. Your tail swinging with pure joy, and gratitude.

"Irayo, Jakesullí."

You could only hope to continue to bring honor to your people.

As you gazed upon your people, Neteyam watched you with a twinkle in his eye, his tail swinging in content, as his heart continued to flutter at your happiness.

irayo - thank you

angtsìk - an omnivore, known as the hammerhead titanothere to skypeople

evi - kid (affectionate term)

tsaheylu - bond

sngä'ikrr - begin

the next part will be a time skip where we explore neteyam's feelings for reader, and continue to develop those feelings as he attempts to start a friendship.

apologies for the long wait, i rewrote this many times to get the desired results and had a lot of writing block as well x