#consider the invisible string scenario

[strawberriemarswrites]

Hear me out headcanons for yandere doflamingo vs yandere sir crocodile with reader who managed to get both their attention

I may have just thought of a whole ass scenario surrounding this idea so bear with me.

Yan!Doflamingo vs Yan!Crocodile

Rating: M (gets a little spicy but no outright smut) Word count: 805

You work for Sir Crocodile as his secretary. You hadn’t expected to get the job but he clearly saw something in you that made him pick you among the other applicants.

It’s hard work but you do it well. He finds himself compelled to get you small gifts, claiming they’re just to show his appreciation for your hard work.

For some reason every time you meet someone you like and try to go on a date with them, there’s a last minute excuse as to why they suddenly can’t be there. You don’t talk about your personal life during work hours, so it never occurs to you that Sir Crocodile’s... intimidating all of your dates away.

Sir Crocodile finds himself in a unique position where he’s getting jealous very easily. He never considered himself the type, but something about you going out with anyone makes his blood boil. He chalks it up to you being a valuable asset that he doesn’t want getting distracted.

He starts keeping you a little closer at hand more and more frequently.

The only person who usually is consistently this close to his side is Miss All Sunday and even then he’s not usually putting his hand on her shoulder and keeping her at his side like he does to you.

Crocodile’s always been a little protective of you as one of his employees, though you never noticed it as a particular brand of protectiveness that only applies to you.

(He keeps insisting to himself it’s to protect a treasured employee, nothing more. He’s in a bit of denial, really.)

One day Crocodile brings you to a warlord meeting as like his stenographer, wanting you to take notes and write up the meeting minutes for him to review again later.

Crocodile sits to your left, keeping your chair as close to him as he could while maintaining a professional appearance.

You’re all business, pushing your reading glasses further up the bridge of your nose as you quietly notate. The first few minutes of the meeting go by smoothly.

Enter Doflamingo, strutting in late like he owns the place.

He was already planning on teasing Crocodile about how his little coup was going. But he didn’t expect Croccy to bring along a cute toy to play with! How fun.

He sits down on your right, and even you can’t ignore the sudden rise of tension in the room as he does so.

Especially since he decides that his chair needs to be even closer to you than Crocodile’s.

As the meeting goes on, you slowly relax, focusing on the task at hand.

That is until you feel a hand on your right thigh. It takes every ounce of energy you have not to let your breath hitch. 

Doffy’s always smirking, so no one else reacts when it gets just a hair wider as he continues carrying on the conversation at hand.

Except Crocodile. You can feel the rage rolling off of him so intensely your legs flinch, squeezing them together and pointing them toward your boss in the hopes that the other warlord will take the hint.

Doflamingo takes it as a challenge.

Your legs get pulled apart by invisible strings and he puts his hand right back where he had it, feeling you up under the table. All the while still participating in the meeting like nothing is going on.

Surprisingly, despite the growing fury on your left, Crocodile maintains his composure, all while silently planning Doflamingo’s demise.

Meanwhile Doflamingo’s thinking about how useful a toy like you would be. You’re behaving awfully well for someone who currently has a hand fondling ever closer to their crotch. Maybe he could convince you to leave the old man and join his family instead.

After the meeting finally ends you quickly excuse yourself to return to Crocodile’s ship before things get any worse.

Crocodile is close behind, his hand on the small of your back as he guides you through the halls of the military base. 

But not before he takes Doflamingo by the collar of his garish shirt and threatens if he ever thinks of touching what’s his ever again, he can expect to lose Dressrosa next.

Doffy’s not even fazed by the threat, smirking as always. Be it beyond him to let someone tell him he can’t have something, but he decides it’s better to let it go this time.

After all, when Crocodile’s plan inevitably fails and it puts you out of work, he can conveniently offer you a new job.

And then I had a couple just one-off thoughts that happen after this:

Reader just ever-so conveniently is kidnapped to work for Doflamingo as Croc is sent to Impel Down

and then is kidnapped back by Crocodile when Doffy ends up in Impel Down and Cross Guild starts lmao

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Warm Bodies

pairing: otis x gn!reader

summary: in which you don't want to sleep alone so you find yourself seeking out otis's room in the middle of the night

warnings: mentions of dead bodies, a bit of dry humping

a/n: since this has basically been my bedtime scenario for the last few nights, i figured i'd turn it into a little fic. i feel like otis might be a little bit out of character in it i'm not sure but i hope you enjoy! :)

word count: 763

Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears as you stood outside Otis's door, your fingers curled around the handle. You'd been standing like this for the last five minutes, unsure on whether you wanted to disturb him. You just didn't know what to do.

You'd been lying awake in your make-shift bed downstairs for the past few hours, the same tormenting thoughts circling around your mind. Otis was the only one who could ever shut them up, which was why you'd found yourself creeping up the stairs towards his room.

You took a nervous breath, finally deciding to turn the door knob, the click of the door opening making you flinch.

You quietly stepped into the room, and Otis remained where he was on the bed, unmoving. You almost considered just turning around and walking straight back out the door when he hadn't woken up. But you supposed the worst he could do was kill you, so you might as well see this through.

You carefully reached a hand out, skating your fingers along his forearm.

"Otis," you whispered.

You almost fell backwards when he suddenly jerked up in the bed, his hand roughly catching your wrist as he glared at you in the dark. "What the fuck are you doin' in here?"

"I can't sleep."

"Okay, well let me help you with that. Go back downstairs, lay the fuck down, and close your goddamn eyes."

"You know what? Fuck you." You hissed, shaking your wrist free and turning around, deciding that this whole thing was pointless, considering he was an asshole.

"Alright, wait," he said then, stopping you in your tracks. "Just─get back here."

You did as he said, turning and walking back towards the bed.

"Why can't you sleep?" He sighed.

"I dunno, I guess my mind won't shut the fuck up."

"I know the feelin'," he answered, a breath of laughter leaving his lips. "But what'd you want me to do about it?"

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Excuse me?" He questioned, his glare only seeming to return now as he remained propped up on his side.

"You know what, never mind. I'll just go back downstairs."

You turned around to leave but you were quickly stopped when you felt his fingers curl around your wrist, pulling you back.

Otis didn't say anything as you stood there staring at him, but he shifted back on the bed slightly, creating a space beside him.

"Well, come on then," he complained. "Don't just fuckin' stand there."

You quickly situated yourself in the space next to him then, a sudden warmth spreading through your chest when you felt his breath on your shoulder.

"You know, you're lucky I've been sleeping alone these past few nights."

"Those girls are no good for you anyway," you scoffed, a tinge of jealousy creeping over you.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Well they ain't breathin' for a start," you told him. "It might do you good to have a warm body in your bed for once."

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

"Well...they can't do this," you spoke softly, as you reached a hand down between your bodies, ghosting your fingers over his already growing erection.

"What else can't they do?" He chuckled, his beard scraping against your arm as he shifted closer slightly.

"They can't do this," you answered, leaning closer to him and brushing your lips against his.

You'd always had something close to a connection with Otis, something that seemed to run a little deeper than just a mutual attraction. He gave you pieces of himself, and in return you gave him everything.

You allowed him into your body, and into your mind...and into your heart. It wasn't love, you knew that. But it was definitely something. An invisible string that seemed to tie you to each other.

He wasn't like this with the girls he imprisoned here. He didn't allow them to feel his breath on their skin, and he certainly didn't allow them the control he allowed you. It made you feel special somehow.

"Would you care to show me what else you can do that they can't?" Otis smirked, running a hand down your thigh.

You simply nodded, swinging your leg over his hip and pushing him onto his back, pulling a low groan from his throat when you began to gently move your hips against him.

"You know, I'm startin' to think you may have a point," he groaned, his fingers digging into your ass. "Havin' a warm body in my bed is actually real fuckin' nice."

[Main Masterlist]

[welldonebeca]

Happier Than Ever - Year 15: young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes (5/7)

Warnings: Tension. Angst. Emotional abuse. Domestic Violence. Comfort. Physical hurt/comfort.

Previous chapter: Year 15 (Part 4/7)

First chapter: Year 0 (Part ½)

masterlist

Cato studied her as she approached, his expression unreadable except for the lingering flush on his cheeks.

Luna couldn’t help but notice it. Why was he pink? Cato was never embarrassed — never flustered. It was unnatural, unsettling.

Still, his voice was as cold and detached as ever when he spoke again.

“I said,” Cato commanded a second time. “Come here.”

Her body obeyed before her mind could protest, her legs moving stiffly, like she was being pulled by invisible strings. Each step felt unnatural, forced.

When she finally stood before him, Cato exhaled sharply, his shoulders still tense.

“How was your day?” he asked, the question feeling more like an obligation than actual interest.

“Quiet,” Luna mumbled, keeping her voice low.

He barely reacted, nodding absently. Whatever was on his mind, it wasn’t her day.

Cato’s eyes swept over her, lingering a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to decipher something hidden in her expression.

“You won’t ask about mine?” he finally asked, his voice flat.

Luna clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. No, she wasn’t going to ask.

The last thing she wanted was to know how he spent his day — though it often felt like the most reasonable scenario was that he spent it far away from her and their children, somewhere he could stay busy until he returned only to sleep.

Cato scoffed, turning away briefly, the sound a mixture of annoyance and something else.

“And the children?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Is that the only thing you care about?”

“At school,” Luna replied.

Cato hummed, his lips curling slightly — not quite a smile, more like amusement at some private joke she wasn’t in on.

“Of course,” he spat, bitterness all over his tone. “You always send them away, don’t you? Never letting them be around me.”

Luna’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she didn’t let her expression betray her thoughts. No, she didn’t ‘send them away.’ She ensured they had a routine, structure — things they desperately needed, things they deserved. A life beyond the walls of this house and a man who had never shown any real interest in being a father.

Why should she make it easy for him?

“They’re at school,” she repeated, her voice flat. “Like every day.”

Cato clicked his tongue.

“And Odysseus?”

“Asleep.”

His gaze flickered toward the hallway, his eyes briefly considering whether to go check for himself. In the end, he simply shook his head, muttering something she couldn’t make out under his breath.

“Are you ready to explain yourself about this morning?” he questioned.

Luna fought the urge to scoff, instead turning her gaze away from him.

Her stomach twisted at his tone, and the anger she had been trying to suppress all day threatened to boil over. She forced her expression to remain neutral, but inside, the fury kept riding.

He was the one who had thrown their morning into disarray, barging in and changing everyone’s routine.

Cato had forced their children into an uncomfortable situation, demanding something that had nothing to do with their well-being, nothing to do with what they actually needed. And now, he wanted an explanation?

His face twisted.

“Mama, when’s the strange man leaving?” he mocked in a cruel, high-pitched moan.

She just stared at him.

“Strange man,” he repeated. “That’s what my own child called me.”

Luna’s fingers curled into fists at her sides.

He said it like he was the victim. As if it wasn’t his own absence, his own indifference, that had turned him into a stranger to them.

“Children are brutally honest, don’t you know?” she asked back. “They say things as they are.”

Dash didn’t know who he was, simple and plain.

Luna could not recall a single moment in the past two and a half years when Cato had so much as looked at their son, let alone spent time with him. And now, he wanted to be outraged? Now, he wanted to claim fatherhood like it was something he had earned?

“I’m his father,” he hissed, leaning close to her, his breath thick with the smell of alcohol.

Luna didn’t care to give him even a look. Well, was this all?

But before she even thought of stepping away, Cato grabbed her face.

“I am his father,” he seethed,/ again his hold tightening as if he could force the truth of it into existence. “Do you hear me?”

Luna’s lips curled in anger, her voice sharp as a blade.

“I wonder why he doesn’t know,” she bit back.

Cato stared into her face, his eyes filled with fury.

“This is your fault,” he snapped, his fingers digging into her skin like he could mould her into submission. “You did this!”

Cato’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing into something dangerous, but Luna didn’t care.

He wanted to blame her? Fine. But she wasn’t going to stand here and let him rewrite history.

“No,” she bit back, her voice a snap of fury. “You did this.”

He had the audacity to act like a victim as if she hadn’t been the only one trying to hold this family together this whole time, trying to protect the children from his indifference, trying to make something out of the wreckage he left behind every time he walked in and out that door.

“You don’t even know your children’s names,” she spat. “You can’t even tell them apart, and you have the nerve to call yourself their father?”

His grip loosened, and then he shoved her away, as if the truth was something he could physically reject.

“Shut up,” he hissed, turning his eyes from her, but Luna refused to let him escape that easily.

No, she wouldn’t shut up. He wanted to bring this up? Then they were going to talk about it!

“Dash doesn’t know you because you’re never around!” she stepped closer to him, refusing to back down. “The younger boys only recognise you because they see you in the house, but do you know when they actually realised you were their father? When they started school. School, Cato! Because that’s how absent you’ve been for the past five years!”

Honestly, maybe even longer.

His nostrils flared, his entire body tensing like a coiled spring.

She had spent years swallowing her words, letting them rot inside her, all for the sake of keeping the peace — for the children, for herself. But there was no peace. There never had been.

“And the ones who do know you? They hate you.”

Cato’s head snapped toward her so fast she almost expected to hear something crack. His eyes burned with fury, but Luna didn’t stop.

“They can’t wait to leave you,” she threw at him, her voice sharp as a blade. “To be free.”

Cato's face twisted more in anger.

“Shut up!” he roared, his face red with rage.

“No!” she shot back, just as loud, just as furious.

He wanted to pretend? To stomp around this house and demand love, respect, and loyalty from children he had abandoned in every way that mattered?

“You walk around here forcing them to act like you’re the best father in the world, but you haven’t been a father in years!”

Her chest heaved, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

And for the first time in a long time, Cato had nothing to say.

He was frozen in his spot, panting, looking completely lost and stuck, like that had never crossed his mind.

Cato opened his mouth, maybe to argue, but there were no words.

How, she didn’t know. He wasn’t blind, he wasn’t stupid.

He was just cruel.

Luna let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“You talked and talked and talked about how you never wanted to be like your father.”

Cato flinched.

“For years,” she continued, voice dripping with satisfaction. “For over a decade, I had to listen to that. Over and over again.”

She stepped closer, her eyes locked onto his.

“And guess what, Cato?” she whispered, the words leaving her lips making even shoulders light, because they'd been in her mind for so, so long. “You turned into him. You are exactly like him!”

Cato’s face darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Shut up,” he mumbled again, but there was no power in it. No conviction.

Luna wasn’t finished.

“A violent man with an empty life and an empty heart,” she spat, her voice rising, a cruel smile growing on her face. “Unloved even by his own child!”

His jaw tightened.

“But at least he only had you — just one son to hate him,” she let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “I cannot imagine being so horrible that you are hated by eight of your own children.”

Cato’s nostrils flared, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“And the ones who don’t?” Luna continued, stepping forward, refusing to let him look away. “The only ones who don’t detest you are either too young to understand what a terrible human being you’ve become…”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, but the words were still as sharp, her eyes right on his.

“Or they don’t even recognise you.”

She didn’t see him moving, but she felt it.

Cato’s knuckles came right to the side of her face, a white-hot pain exploding through her skull. The impact sent her stumbling back, the world tilting as a sharp, high-pitched ringing filled her right ear.

Luna barely had time to process what had happened before his voice shattered the haze.

“I told you to shut up!” he roared.

He didn’t let her go. Instead, he grabbed her, shoving her back — each push another blow.

“You think you’re so good, don’t you?” he seethed. “Righteous little Luna, playing perfect Mama in my house because she’s good for nothing else!”

She lifted a hand, trying to push him away or put distance between them, but he pushed it away like it was nothing, and the next shove sent her crashing against a wall, knocking the breath from her lungs.

His fingers clamped around her chin, forcing her eyes to his. He was all she could see — his twisted sneer, his burning eyes, the stench of alcohol burning into her nose.

Everything hurt. She couldn’t even tell where he had hit her, it was everywhere, a loud, searing ache radiating through her face, her skull, her ribs.

“Stupid little Luna,” he sneered. “With her perfect mommy and daddy. You’d still be living under their wing if I hadn’t given you something more!”

She gasped as her back slammed into the wall again. And again. The impact sent another wave of pain through her, but she refused to let even a single sound out.

His spit landed on her cheek and she turned away, disgust twisting her stomach, but Cato’s grip snapped her head back toward him.

“And how did she earn it?” he hissed, his fingers digging into her cheek like claws.

Something struck her mouth — she didn’t know if it was his hand, his knuckles, or just the force of her own jaw clenching too hard — but the tang of blood filled her tongue.

“By spreading her legs!” Cato spat, his voice dripping with poison. “Every day, taking me into that tiny little flat, looking all pretty at me while begging for it.”

There it was. That venomous, ugly truth rotting inside him, spilling from his lips like bile.

She was a teenager in love, that was all. She loved him. 

And all this time, this was what she had bound herself to. This was the position she had put herself in.

Even now, breathless and reeling from the pain, she couldn’t hold her tongue.

“You moved in with me,” Luna reminded him, her voice raw. “In the house I paid with my work. Ate my food. Slept in my bed. Wore clothes I bought for you. Begged for shelter because you had nothing!”

Cato slammed her against the wall again, the impact sending fresh waves of pain through her skull and neck.

“You-” he growled.

She spat on him.

It wasn’t as strong as she wanted, not as dramatic, but it landed — right on his face. Even through the blur of her vision, she saw the smear of blood on his chin.

Cato yanked her by the arm, his grip like a vice, twisting until pain shot through her shoulder. Then, with a brutal force, he threw her to the floor.

From then on, Luna only knew pain. On her hips, her back, her stomach, her chest, her head.

Whether it was from his fists or his boots, she didn’t know. She was too dizzy, too disoriented, her body trapped in a cycle of agony that felt endless.

And then he stopped.

The ringing in her ears drowned out everything else, but she could see it. The way he stiffened, the way his breath hitched.

He wasn’t looking at her anymore.

Luna turned her head, every movement a struggle, and saw them. Her boys. A blurry group, but her boys. 

They stood in the doorway, frozen.

It gave her just enough time to roll onto her back, each breath cutting through her lungs like razors, her body screaming in protest.

Someone started crying, but she didn’t know who it was.

Then, suddenly, everyone moved, and when she looked at Cato again, he was running — out of the living room, through the kitchen.

Maybe out the back door.

“Mama!” the boys exclaimed.

Luna tried to sit up, but her body refused.

Pain spread through her arm the moment she put weight on it, sharp and unrelenting, and she fell again. Her limbs felt heavy, her head was still spinning, and all she could do was stay there — collapsed on the floor, trying to steady her breath.

The boys.

They were home.

She could hear them — soft, broken cries, more than one voice trembling with fear.

She had to get up. She had to calm them down.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t move.

It was Prince and Hunter who came to her side, their hands reaching for hers as they helped her sit up. The effort was exhausting, her muscles protested with every movement. She closed her eyes, swallowing a groan as she tried to steady herself.

“Mama, are you okay?” Prince’s voice trembled with worry.

“I’m okay,” she lied, groaning. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

The boys swarmed her, all of them, their faces a mixture of tears and fear. She could feel the weight of their panic, and it made her chest tighten.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered, trying to soothe them.

Archie and Sweetie were the first to wrap their arms around her, burying their faces into her chest. Luna fought not to flinch from the pain as she reached out for Blue and Lex, both of them standing off to the side, looking confused and scared.

“It’s alright,” Luna insisted, her voice trembling just a little. “I’m alright.”

Blue’s eyes searched her face, wide with worry.

“Mama, you’re hurt!”

Luna swallowed hard, trying to ignore the burn in her throat as she looked around. Teddy was holding Sammy close, the younger boy’s face buried in his older brother’s chest. They were all still too young to understand what was happening.

They’d shield them? The little ones?

“Mama just had an accident,” she lied, trying to keep her voice light, even as the words tasted bitter on her tongue. “I’m just so clumsy.”

Blue didn’t look convinced. His little face was twisted in worry, his small hands clenched tightly into fists as if he could fight away the fear. It was Sweetie who broke the silence, his voice trembling with confusion and concern.

“You didn’t!” he protested, his eyes wide. “Mama!”

Luna’s heart squeezed painfully, but she had no choice – if they hadn’t seen what had happened, she wouldn’t be the one to tell them. The nannies were standing in the doorway, looking unsettled, their faces pale. Luna forced herself to meet their eyes, willing them to understand her unspoken plea.

“There they are, the nannies,” she said, her voice trembling. “Why don’t some of you go with them? I’ll... I’ll talk to your older brothers.”

Blue’s gaze never wavered from her face, his confusion only deepening as he tried to understand what was going on. He was too young to make sense of it all, but Luna could feel his worry pressing against her, and it broke her heart.

“Go, honey,” she said, her voice soft but insistent as she gently cupped his face. “I’ll see you in a minute. Please? You and Lex? And… and Sammy?”

She needed to disperse them, to get them to a safe place where they wouldn’t see her breaking. She needed to make sure they were distracted, safe, out of the chaos. They couldn’t stay here, not like this.

“Come on, Sammy,” Teddy mumbled, his voice low and steady, as if trying to soothe the raw edge of fear that had taken root in his younger brother. “You heard mama.”

Sammy resisted, his small body twisting, trying to turn and catch another glimpse of Luna. But Teddy wasn’t having it. He kept him firmly in place, his grip strong but gentle, guiding him away.

“Come on,” Teddy urged, his voice now more insistent, his hands steady as he led him out of the room. “Let’s go.”

The nannies were already rounding up the younger boys, moving swiftly, and quiet as funeral. Blue, Lex, and Sammy were scooped up in their arms, and Luna felt her heart crack a little more with each soft cry or confused glance her children gave her.

She turned her attention back to Archie and Sweetie, trying to coax them out of her arms, kissing their temples gently, trying to hold herself together for them. Prince and Hunter stood by her sides, staring at her with wide eyes, their confusion obvious, their own questions too heavy for boys so young.

“I’m alright,” Luna lid, her voice strained, but she forced herself to smile, to sound calm for them, even though everything inside her was everything but. “I’m okay. There’s no need to be scared.”

But Hunter’s voice cracked, sharp with fear, his words more of a plea than a question.

“Why did he do that?” he asked. “Mama, what happened?”

Prince’s voice followed, bitter and raw, his face twisted with something Luna couldn’t quite name but recognized all too well.

“Why does he do anything, Hunter?” Prince snapped, the words full of anger. “Why is Dad the way he is? He’s cruel.”

Luna’s heart clenched at the truth of it, but she couldn’t answer him. Not now. Not like this. Instead, she reached for his hand, trying to offer the comfort she couldn’t fully give, kissing his palm.

“I’m okay.”

Prince shook his head, disbelief in his eyes.

“You’re all hurt!” he exclaimed, his voice trembling with shock and helplessness, and he looked so young and grown all at once.

His small hand reached for her face, but it hovered there, unsure, almost as if he were afraid to cause more pain, to make things worse.

“Did he ever do that?” Prince mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did he hurt you before?”

The question was simple, but the pain in it made her chest tighten.

How could she explain to him the years of hurt, the years of cruelty disguised as love, the constant emotional and physical wounds that had scarred her over and over again?

Luna’s heart shattered for him as she reached for him, pulling him into her arms as best she could, despite the aches and the pain. She kissed his cheek softly, her lips trembling, and tried to force her voice to stay steady.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she whispered, her voice low and thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry you kids had to see this.”

How could she tell him the truth? How could she explain that everything Cato had done to her, every word, every action, had been meant to hurt her? To break her down bit by bit? To make her feel small, worthless, and helpless?

She pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding him close.

Hunter’s voice was small when he spoke, but the feelings in it were clear.

“We didn’t let the boys see it,” he told her, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. “Blue and Lex and Sammy, we put ourselves in front of them.”

Luna’s heart ached with pride as she turned to her second-born, her brave boy. Her fingers trembled as she reached to caress his blonde hair, and she struggled to keep the tears from spilling and her eyes blurred.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice faltering as she fought to keep it steady. “You’re wonderful older brothers.”

The warmth of his presence, his words, eased the tightness in her chest, and she rubbed his shoulders gently, grounding herself with the feeling of the four boys wrapped around her.

Luna closed her eyes. Her sons were strong. They had protected each other, protected the younger ones, just as she had tried to protect them all these years.

Archie’s sniffle broke the stillness, and he pulled away from her chest, his wide eyes brimming with fear as his lips trembled.

“We need to get the first aid!” he suddenly seemed to realise, his voice filled with urgency as he looked up at her.

“It’s alright, honey,” Luna tried to assure him, but her words barely managed to settle over the rising panic in his eyes.

But Archie shook his head, his resolve hardening as he tugged Sweetie away from her.

“We need to find the kit,” he insisted, his small hands pulling him along with him. “Come on, come on!”

Luna watched them go, her heart swelling with a mixture of pride and sadness. It was always them, always her children stepping up when they were needed. She was left with Hunter and Prince now, her oldest boys, their quiet gaze meeting each other’s as though they shared a silent conversation that Luna wasn’t part of. Finally, Prince spoke.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked, his voice steady, but his eyes still filled with fear.

Luna swallowed hard, her chest tightening. They were children, they shouldn’t be the ones worried about her. She was their mother, she was meant to protect and support them, not the reverse.

“Honey…”

“Mama, where does it hurt?” Prince’s insisted, his voice trembling. “Please, let us help.”

Luna closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to focus on the parts of her body that screamed the loudest. She wasn’t good at separating the pain; it was like one constant throb running through her entire body.

“My arm,” she murmured first, realising where Cato had twisted it earlier. “And some spots on my back and hip…”

The memory of Cato’s vicious kick sliced through her mind, a fresh wave of pain flooding her chest.

“And my face,” she added, her voice softer now, trembling at the admission. “My… cheek and…”

She couldn’t finish the thought. It was too much. Her entire face felt like it was swelling and bruised.

Hunter’s eyes darkened as he studied her face, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“He cut your eyebrow,” Hunter told her, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were filled with a simmering anger that Luna couldn’t ignore. “And… your cheek is bruised.”

Luna nodded, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch her face, but the pain made her wince.

Just then, the boys returned with Teddy leading the group.

“I told Sammy it was an accident,” Teddy said, his voice shaky. “I don’t… I don’t think he’ll be alright when he sees you, though.”

Luna’s heart clenched as she looked at him, willing herself not to cry.

Eleven.

Teddy was eleven.

No eleven-year-old should have to carry this much weight. No child should have to look at their mother with such a heavy heart.

Still, he came right to her with the younger boys.

Teddy didn’t falter, though. He stepped toward her, his brothers close behind. He took the first aid kit and started opening it, the younger boys trying to help, their hands small and eager to do anything they could to make her feel better.

"Okay, let’s just be diligent, okay?" Teddy instructed, his voice steady despite the anxiety that lingered on his face.

Luna closed her eyes for a moment as the process began.

She barely noticed the passage of time as they worked on her — five boys, each with their own way of helping. They cleaned her face gently, each of them taking turns with band-aids, applying bruise cream to her swollen cheek, and making sure her hair was out of the way so they could have full access to the damage.

One by one, they kissed her wounds, like it would make them disappear. First, Prince kissed the covered eyebrow cut. Then Hunter, Sweetie, Archie, and even Teddy, all placing their warm lips on her forehead or cheeks or near her bruised eyes as though each kiss could somehow make the pain disappear like she did when they got hurt.

Luna held her breath, trying not to let herself cry with them.

She tried not to wince too much where it hurt – Hunter had accidentally squeezed her arm before putting the cream on it, he was quite the strong boy; she didn’t want him to feel guilty for hurting her.

Her back was a different story. It was harder to check, and Luna didn’t want to expose her boys to that. They’d already seen too much.

The bruises from Cato’s kicks were sharp, burning with a pain she hadn’t realised was so deep until now. She swallowed down the pain, not wanting to burden them, she could handle it until she was alone. She had painkillers in the house, and once they were all settled, she would take one to ease the worst of it.

And then the mirror.

Looking into it was almost worse than feeling the pain itself.

The reflection that stared back at her was someone she hardly recognised. Her face was swollen, the left side a bruised mess, with cuts and discolouration splattered across her skin. Her eyebrow had f blood still clinging to it and looked like it had been torn in the middle. Her cheeks were red and blue, and her lip, swollen and cracked, made her want to turn away. She looked… terrible. Like she had been through a war she couldn’t win.

She stood there for a moment, staring at herself, her hands shaking as she reached up to touch her face.

No wonder the nannies looked so scared. Luna could see the fear in their eyes, the way they flinched when they looked at her that moment, like they were afraid it was gonna happen to them as well.

But it wasn’t the fear in their faces that made her feel the burn of rage crawl up her spine. It wasn’t their helplessness that made her want to scream.

It was the thought of Cato.

The anger roared louder, pounding in her ears, mixing with the pain and making everything feel unbearable, but she just took in a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm.

The children were already scared, already lost in their own confusion and fear, they didn’t need more.

It took some time for the boys to disperse, to give her the space she needed, but even then, it felt like the weight of their eyes was still on her. They didn’t ask questions, not after Hunter’s blunt one. They all knew, didn’t they? What kind of questions could they ask when the truth was so evident.

Prince and Hunter, and maybe even Teddy to some extent, knew the cruel depths of Cato’s violence. They’d seen it before, had felt it in their own way.

But Archie and Sweetie? They were too young for anything but black-and-white thinking. Luna couldn’t help but feel a flicker of relief that they now saw their father for what he truly was — a monster. It was one small blessing amidst all the pain, at least they wouldn’t have any false illusions about the man who’d been their father.

But then there were the younger ones.

Sammy and Lex… they were too young to fully understand what was happening, and they were clearly confused about it all. Blue, her sweet Blue, was the most affected — absolutely anxious when he left her, not knowing what had happened.

And Dash…

Luna’s heart ached at the thought of him. Dash had gone to bed for his nap with nothing but safety in his world. And now, he’d wake up to see his mother’s face bruised and swollen, a sight so jarring and foreign to him.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would take it. One of the older boys would have to talk to him, to weave something that made some sense to him, and he was so small Luna didn’t even know if he would really understand it.

And Juni… well, she was sure picking up Juni would be quite the task when her baby girl woke up.

She went up to her bedroom in the slowest of steps, every muscle aching as she made the way, and the nanny caring for Juni gave her the pitiest of looks.

“Do you want help ma’am?” she offered, looking up and down at her. “With anything?”

Luna took in a deep breath.

“Some privacy, please,” she asked. “For a bit?”

The nanny nodded, gathering Juni in her arms. Luna reached out briefly, brushing her fingers over her baby’s soft hair before the woman left, closing the door behind her.

For the first time in her life, Luna locked her bedroom door. She didn’t want to risk one of the boys walking in. Not now. Not when she was finally letting herself unravel.

She stripped off her clothes, pulling the first-aid kit from its place in her closet. The mirrors loomed in front of her and behind her, and she forced herself to look.

A bruise, deep, ugly, black and blue, stretched across her hip and back, the exact size of Cato’s boot.

She didn’t even know that could be possible.

For a moment, she just stared.

Then, with gritted teeth, she reached for the Capitol-issued bruise cream, spreading it over the swollen skin. The cold touch of it sent a shiver up her spine, but she hoped that it would work. That by morning, the worst of the swelling would go down. That the pain would dull just enough for her to keep moving.

Because she had no choice but to keep moving.

Her lips curled in disgust.

He could have just died.

Fifteen years ago, in the Games, Cato could have died.

Yes, she would have cried. She would have mourned him, missed him. She would have raised Prince alone, with her parents’ help — probably lived with them for years, until she felt strong enough to build a life for just the two of them. It would have been painful. It would have been unfair.

But she would have survived.

Cato would be just a dead boy, a lost love stolen from her before they had the chance to begin. And it would have been easier.

Because she wouldn’t be here.

Luna sank into the nearest chair, her breath unsteady.

But then came the worst thought of all.

If Cato had died, she wouldn’t be here. But neither would the boys. Neither would Juni.

The realisation hit like a punch to the gut.

She wouldn’t have spent years walking on eggshells, wouldn’t have flinched at the sound of his voice for the last seven years.

But she also wouldn’t have Hunter, with his gentle heart and passion for food. She wouldn’t have Teddy, eager to impress, always watching, always thinking.

She wouldn’t have Archie, Sweetie, Blue, Lex, Sammy, Dash, or Juni.

Her babies. Her world. The reason she still breathed despite the pain in her ribs.

If Cato had died, she would have grieved a love lost.

But she never would have known this love, the greatest love she had ever been given.

What a cruel twist.

She dressed herself quietly and unlocked the door, opening it a little bit before moving back to her bed, and adjusted her pillows to try to be comfortable as she lay down, not knowing what else to do.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

She needed to lay down.

And if she cried, just a little, in the privacy of her room where no one could see, she made sure to be quiet about it.

When Luna woke, Sammy, Lex, and Blue were curled up in her bed, tangled together in sleep, their little bodies warming her up.

Her back ached less, and her face felt... different. The bruise cream had likely worked overnight, dulling the worst of it. She exhaled softly, the movement stirring Lex awake. His big blue eyes met hers immediately, filled with concern far too deep for someone his age.

Luna mustered a small smile, and he wriggled free from the tangle of limbs and carefully scooted closer, settling onto her chest as though seeking comfort in her heartbeat.

“Mama, did Daddy hurt you again?” he asked.

Luna inhaled sharply. Again.

She hesitated. The lie was right there on the tip of her tongue, waiting. But Lex was watching her, his little face so serious, so patient.

Did he know that the first it had happened, he was just in her belly? When Cato crossed that line, when she lost all hope for their future together?

“Yeah,” she whispered. “He did.”

His expression crumpled, sadness weighing down his small features.

“But I’m not letting him do that again,” she said, brushing his soft hair back and cupping his cheek. “Soon, it’ll be just us. Me, you, your brothers, and your sister. We’ll never have to see Daddy again.”

She didn’t know how yet, but she would make it happen.

“When?” he asked, his voice so small.

Luna swallowed hard. She didn’t have an answer.

“Soon,” she promised anyway. “We just have to wait patiently, okay?”

Lex studied her for a long moment, his tiny fingers curling into the fabric of her dress like he was holding onto her promise itself.

“And we’ll never have to see him again?” he whispered.

“Never.”

His grip tightened, but his eyes remained uncertain, worry still lingering in their depths. He wanted to believe her. Needed to believe her. But he had seen too much, knew too much for a child his age.

Luna pressed a kiss to his temple, letting her lips linger there as if she could transfer her strength to him.

“I promise, baby.”

He sighed, snuggling closer, but she could still feel the tension in his little body. He wanted to believe her — needed to — but he had seen too much, knew too much for a child his age.

She hated that.

She hated that any of them had to know what they knew.

Luna wrapped her arms around him, adjusting him and ignoring the dull throb in her hip so he could fit against her comfortably.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. But then Luna caught a movement by the door. Prince peeked inside, his expression cautious, and she shifted Lex just enough to sit up properly.

“You’re looking better,” he exhaled, the relief evident in his voice. “Do you still hurt?”

Luna smiled softly, and called him with a hand, patting the space on the bed by her side.

“Thank you, baby,” she told him right away as he sat down.

Prince’s shoulders relaxed, but his face still held tension.

“I’m sorry we weren’t home sooner,” he said. “And that we couldn’t stop him.”

Luna’s smile faded. Stop him?

“Baby,” she said gently, keeping her voice low so the younger boys wouldn’t stir. “Your father is three times my weight. He’s a killing machine — you know that. Even five of you wouldn’t be enough to stop him.”

“But still—” Prince started, frustration creeping into his voice.

“No,” she cut him off, firm but not unkind. “Prince, you’re fourteen. You shouldn’t have to think about stopping him. You shouldn’t need to stop him. He shouldn’t have done what he did in the first place.”

Prince dropped his gaze, embarrassed, guilt settling in his features.

Luna softened again.

“Has he shown up?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“No.”

“Good,” she breathed. “Maybe some car will run him over in the street, and we won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

The thought was fleeting, just a bitter hope whispered into the room. But God, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like when he did come back.

Prince smirked a little at her words, amused despite everything. Luna leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek — but the moment he flinched, she pulled back, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

He immediately leaned away.

“Nothing,” he said, too quickly.

Luna narrowed her eyes. Well, that was a lie.

She shifted, careful not to wake the younger boys, taking a closer look. Prince’s face was already pink with embarrassment, but now she saw it — really saw it. A fading bruise on his upper cheek. A cut on his eyebrow, barely hidden under a band-aid.

Her stomach turned.

“It’s just a bruise, Mama,” he mumbled.

“From going to school?” she pressed.

Did he think she was born yesterday?

Prince looked away, his jaw tightening.

“What happened?” she insisted.

She waited, watching as he shifted uncomfortably, his fingers curling into the blanket. He wouldn’t meet her gaze, but she didn’t back down.

“We… I…” He hesitated, swallowing hard. “Mama…”

“If you don’t talk, I’ll ask Hunter,” she warned. “And you know your brother will tell me.”

Prince let out a sharp sigh, clearly frustrated, and dropped his shoulders in defeat.

“Look, we were competing,” he mumbled.

Luna straightened, her expression sharpening.

Prince avoided her gaze entirely now, staring at the floor like it might save him.

“Dad wanted us to prove which one of us should train with the older teens for the Games,” he admitted. “Brutus supervised it.”

She tightened her jaw.

“Which one of you,” she repeated, flat. “And that means?”

It was one thing for Cato to ignore the kids—he did that nearly every day. At best, he acted like they didn’t exist. At worst, he was outright antagonistic toward them.

But now?

Now, he was pitting them against each other?

“I sparred with Hunter,” Prince mumbled.

Luna took in a deep breath before standing up, straightening herself as she felt the blood rushing through her ears, her stomach burning once more.

That was it.

That was fucking it.

“Mum,” Prince murmured hesitantly.

“Go,” she said, her fists clenching at her sides.

Prince shot up from the bed immediately.

“Mama—” he tried again, his voice uncertain.

“Go,” she repeated, sharper this time, her glare cutting through him.

Didn’t he understand?

“Get your brothers ready for dinner,” she commanded. “I’ll be down soon.”

Next Chapter: Part 6/7 (on Patreon - Coming to Tumblr/AO3 on the 29th of June)

[sichore]

So a while ago, the server was on a Jane Austen kick and we had tons of fun, and I daresay we had our strongest round of writing yet. And because this is Metalocalypse, naturally we added zombies to the mix, incorporating the lore from Seth Grahame-Smith's trio of novels into that of the show and what we'd established across various AUs.

Paint the Sky chapter 3 is coming along... very slowly, but I've still been writing behind the scenes. Here's an offshoot of that Regency zombie drama in a scenario where Magnus isn't a cringe fail Scorpio.

(Magnus tends to be part of the overpowered and older group in these AUs and it's so fucking funny considering his canon and current incarnation ahahhhaha.)

Deth & Diligence: Shadowplay

Feat. Magjam (MagnusxOC) and mentions of Dr. Amomolith Chesterfield and OCs from @thatwritingho, @m3gahet, @the-loveliest-lotus and @mrfelixfischoeder.

As always, Jamila stands out amongst the rest of the gathered dancers like a spot of soot upon a fine dress. It's an unbecoming way to think of herself that Mary would scold her for, but it's hard not to think of, when her stone-faced partner endeavors to look anywhere but at her.

Mercifully, once the lilting notes of the string quartet fade and the final bow is made, he swiftly turns away in search of a more comely lady, and Jamila sinks back until she is as one with the shadows on the wall. Even here, she doesn't fit among the least handsome women in appearance.

Indeed, if the pearls were to fall from her hair, her tulle and fine silk replaced by rough linen, she would be invisible. Only standing out because she would be expected to be among the staff never to be seen. As much as Dr. Chesterfield may dress her up and present her as his most prized oddity, Jamila will never be British, never be highborn. Never be one of these high class vermin more concerned with riches and matchmaking than the hordes of undead ever threatening to overrun their dear England.

In that sense, she should take comfort in the fact that she is not vermin. But the terms in which Jamila defines herself are not so kind, and as she can hear the voices of Mary, Olive, Lucy, and Robin chiding her, she silences all thought instead.

She raises her eyes. Her father is preoccupied with conversing with other esteemed gentlemen, and appears to have run out of younger men to play at propriety with her. It's just as well. Truthfully, Jamila would rather be among the various mercenaries stationed outside the room, around the estate, keeping watch for dreadfuls. But Dr. Chesterfield only allows her to wield a blade when he can make a spectacle of her ‘savage’ origins; she wasn't even allowed her dagger tonight. Tonight, as on so many nights, Jamila plays the part of a lady.

And tired of playing as she is, she slides away from the wall, through the shadows, finding solace where none would dare look, and retreats to a nearby area that gives her a measure of peace.

The gallery, much like everything else about Jamila, is a space meant to advertise all that is her. Her life, her body, her art – all of it is up for sale, for consumption, displayed for the attention of men looking to devise any use they can out of her. She finds she rather hates the work once it is finished, wishing to destroy it rather than have it land in the hands of these white demons.

But while she is painting, for those few precious hours, there is only the brush, the canvas, and her. Images from her mind take form through paint and practiced strokes, bringing to life a world without violence, without lies. Just the peace of solitude.

The gentle clack of Jamila's low heels grow more audible as she moves away from the gathering and towards the gallery. The guests grow more sparse, finding fewer tucked away couples or wilting wallflowers, until she's alone once she reaches the door. Surely, her father won't notice her absence for a brief while.

There is near silence as Jamila closes the door behind her. She sighs, and before she can breathe in relief, her skin prickles in warrior instinct.

The gallery is quiet, but not empty, and she is not alone.

The man standing in the middle of the gallery is a slayer, as evident by the worn leather boots and coat he wears, if one could not tell from his stance. He appears lax, his hand on his hip rather than sword, but the slight lean of his body lets Jamila know that he's aware of her presence, and fears no threat.

She flushes in momentary embarrassment for not immediately being aware of the gallery being occupied. Though, considering the visitor, she should not be too harsh on herself.

He is tall as an oak, his presence drawing one's eye as a towering storm cloud does on the horizon. His prominent profile and rich, wavy hair instantly mark him as not British, and Jamila relaxes minutely. She knows this man. Knows of him, rather. The man recently returned from the Near East with his ill daughter, which is why he has been in the company of those Dr. Chesterfield does business with. Had been in the company of her warden himself, who was determined to ignore Jamila as nothing more than a mere prop. And in a wholly inappropriate – that is, thrilling – display, this man instead lavished Jamila without enough attention and praise to break through her practiced, stone-like demeanor, causing a faint blush to rise to her cheeks.

More than once over the course of the evening, Jamila's gaze has wandered to him. Not as a guest, no, but one among the shadows, a guard like the others on the outskirts of the ball. It was impossible not to notice him, towering above the pale elite, the only one besides herself with sun-kissed skin. Though she is darker than he, in appearance, if not demeanor.

Not one to be daunted, and within the prison she's made to call home no less, Jamila approaches the slayer: Magnus Hammersmith. In a show of defiance to no one besides herself, perhaps, she stops to stand at his side. The distance, or lack thereof, is not respectable, but she does not want to be seen as a lady at the moment. Jamila has sent more than enough of the unmentionable horde back to hell to fill the ball room to present herself as someone who, if not equal, is at the very least unafraid.

Besides, Magnus had already nigh embarrassed her with his honeyed compliments. It was only right she exact a sweet revenge of her own.

Still, it would be too forward to admire him so blatantly at this proximity, though Jamila does steal sidelong glances that reveal little more than the buttons of his coat. Instead, she turns her attention to the painting that has his apt attention.

It's dark. This painting has yet to find a buyer, the nature of it being so dim compared to her usual lush landscapes and blue skies. This one depicts a lake awash with the cloak of night, with even the moon obscured by the ebon veil. The only light to be found are in the stars, faint pinpricks of light, and the reflection in the small, cresting waves of the water.

Perhaps one with a keen eye, like a fellow slayer, could make out the other fine details to be found. The old tree stretched out from one side of the canvas. The lone swan curled and asleep on the bank. The faint sliver of the moon that is there.

Perhaps Magnus sees it. Jamila can only guess, as he has yet to speak or greet her in any way. And when she can take the silence no longer, and the warmth of his proximity – the scent of leather and cedar filling her nose – she breaks it with a small huff.

“I daresay you will find no dreadfuls within this painting,” she says. She casts her eyes askance, and the slight smirk that curls Magnus’ lips makes her hands twitch from where they are clasped before her.

“No,” he agrees. His voice reminds Jamila of the finest tea she's ever tasted; rich, dark, toasty, leaving her tongue just dry enough to ever want for another drink. “I'm sure I would have better luck without.”

“Or you could stay within. The pitiful undead do not lack for company.”

“But these walls do?”

“Perhaps.” Feeling color rise to her cheeks again, Jamila returns her attention to the painting. “Are you looking to purchase? This one has been continuously passed over for being too dark.”

“That's fortunate. My eye is not one for the fine arts like this, but even I can see that this should be admired, deeply. Not locked away by some stuffy aristocrat.”

“So you are not looking to buy.”

“No. Just admire, appreciate, for now.”

“The brighter ones are not to your liking?”

“They lack the depth of this one. And I’ve always been fond of that which is found in the shadows.”

“Such as fear? Horrors?”

“Secrets, comfort. Pleasure, even.”

Jamila ignores her instinct and turns her face towards Magnus. His gaze is fixated on her. She stands on his blind side, that eye glazed over like the moon in a naked sky, but the other is warm and brown and boring through her. Whatever Jamila wants to say next is stifled behind lips pressed tightly together.

Swallowing to ease her dry throat, she faces the painting again.

[abysscronica]

Abyss, do you know about the invisible string or like the red string of fate?

I like to imagine that Kid and Birdie were always near each other especially those years when Kid was starting out. A scenario of mine is them being in the same island, Kid stopped to get materials to complete the Victoria Punk while Birdie was tasked to buy Aokiji's seasonal coffee, like Kid was just behind the stall Birdie was buying from. It makes me squeal thinking that they just passed by each other not knowing that a couple years later on they'd be sleeping in the same bed. 😩❤️

Pretty cute, right? Please consider writing us a canon scenario. All the love abyss, thank you for the last update!!

Hi! Thank you for the question, loved it. ❣️

I do know the concept of the red string of fate. I like it even, in some specific scenarios, or as an idea in real life too (although I don't actually believe in it).

You're totally free to headcanon it for Kid and birdie, it's a very romantic hc. But I don't think I'll ever include it in the actual series. There are parallelisms between Kid and birdie's origin, I may delve a little more into these as the series proceeds, but that's about it. Kid started off in the South Blue and made a name for himself in a couple of year with a pretty linear route from Reverse Mountain to Sabaody. Birdie was born in the New World, from there she was brought to Marineford, and possibly never left the Grand Line at all. Technically it's possible that their paths crossed before in Paradise, so as I said, feel free to hc. Either way, my personal idea is that Kid and birdie were not bond by fate from the start. I think they were two strong souls with very different paths until they met and they changed each other's life. BUT I don't mind if you have a different idea! And I'm very happy that you shared it with me, I love to know your thoughts on these two gremlins. ❤️

[survivor-edgic-watching-for]

Someone Has to Win, Right?

Off the top: not the greatest episode for Joe.

He was talked about like he’s a somewhat inevitable winner if he makes it to the end (which to me does not bode particularly well for his chances of getting there in a show that likes to mix surprise and suspense). Even last season, the “Rachel’s Funeral” was in the penultimate episode, the first boot in a double-boot episode that was billed as Part 1 of a two-part finale.

That undercuts the logic case for a Joe win that I was clearly stitching together with invisible string last week, and leaves it wholly story-based.

The good news (from someone who's still on the Joe train): not really a great episode for anyone else? Kamilla says her path to the end requires Joe to go this round and he doesn’t, Kyle has put himself in a position he thinks is lose/lose (though he may be wrong!), Shauhin is seemingly delusional about his win equity versus Joe, Eva didn’t do much outside of the journey besides confessing that she’ll play her idol on Joe (and her win equity has long been a function of either Joe leaving and picking up his mantle or Joe flopping at FTC, imo), and Mitch is Mitch.

I want to highlight some brilliance (imo) from Ben Markham on the conflicting stories we’re being told about Joe's future, and how this may resolve:

But consider this: Joe has had both (1) possible foreshadowing that he goes out early and (2) possible foreshadowing that he loses a jury vote. Why would the editors include both? If he actually is stopped from reaching Final Tribal Council, why would they bother making it look like he might lose at the end due to the jury being bitter towards him? If he loses due to a bitter jury, why spend so much time making it look like he might get voted out?

I would argue that the most likely reason for this at this point is that Joe does win, it’s a dominating win, perhaps the most dominating win of the New Era, and they’re just throwing as much doubt as they can at Joe to make it less obvious.

Do read the whole piece here.

As Kamilla told us, “Both me and Kyle know we’re going to turn on Joe, it’s just a question of when.”

So we’re left with a bit of a two-parter in the event that what I believe to be the modal scenario comes true, in which we will wildly oscillate from “When will they get out Joe?!?!” to “Will Joe really fumble at the 1-yard line?!?”

My main problem right now is, I’m not sure what that path looks like. To reiterate, I think the logic path for Joe is truly done and dusted.

I do not think Joe is tying the immunity record, so at most that means he’s winning one more. Eva wins immunity at six and gives the idol to Joe at 5, then Joe wins fire? Joe wins immunity, and Shauhin is truly delulu and wants to stick it out with him and Eva until the end? Kyle can’t bring himself to actually vote out Joe despite what Kamilla told us, and by choosing not to decide between them, ultimately does make a huge choice?

None of these paths seem to make much sense to me. Well, besides the first one, but you’d have to figure that some folks would be tempted to take the shot at Eva to give better odds at getting out Joe next round…or else that’s just plain playing scared, imo.

I think it’s far too late in this season to build up underdogs and reverse the idea, which has been built up for this season,  that strength is a virtue. So if it’s not Joe, do think it’s Kyle and am bumping his odds up (sourcing mainly from Shauhin). While Kyle may be on the “hesitate and be left behind” side of things after last episode, he’s literally a Joe boot away from being in Goldilocks mode, and was generally the one closest to the dead middle on my charts of “hesitate and be left behind” to “attack the game, still lose” versus “puzzler, schemer, social player” to “strong, honest, loyal.”

I think the logic case is much more on Kyle’s side than Joe’s at this juncture.

My Joe > Kyle thesis is grounded in what I believe to be the key themes…

Partnerships: Jeff said this is a key part of the story of the season so I have to agree. Fairly self-explanatory.

Answering the Call: This might have been pigeonholed in here by production, but I'm choosing to interpret this as "our winner is someone who is relied upon (or "called upon" if you will) by their fellow castaways.

Nobody's Perfect: Our winner will have warts. Perhaps even literally

Losers Hesitate. Losers Also Attack: During mat chat, Jeff told the cast they can “hesitate and left behind,” but, on the other hand, “just because you attack the game doesn’t mean you’ll be successful.” I interpret this as our winner is someone who either doesn't make big waves, or someone who does then quickly reels it back in. Also view this as "reaction beats action," which has some overlaps with the idea of Answering the Call.

Family Matters: Castaways who are articulating the importance of family in governing how they play and as what motivates them to get through this game are more likely to be our winners.

Sharing is Caring: Telling people who trust you the truth is good. This helps develop a team and promote team harmony. Our winner is likely part of a team, and that team is highly likely to be Team Strong/Honest/Loyal.

…and these conclusions that follow from them and other parts of the edit:

-“Family matters” more than “Civa as second chance” tribe or “humble traits”

-“Sharing is caring” is more important than being strategic and having options

-Challenges have been built up this season; Joe has won more and the ones he’s won have been edited in a particularly grandiose fashion.

-Kyle’s most triumphant move (an idol play to save his life!) was…edited fairly quietly. More quietly than Joe managing to get a fly off of him so he could tiptoe backwards slowly, that’s for sure.

-When Joe goes relatively absent confessional-wise, it’s typically for a good reason (like how he was sheltered during Thomas’ boot ep).

-Joe has much, much more SPV than Kyle, and most of it positive.

And just as a general matter, I'm sold on the idea that "this season is different" and that the winner doesn't really do much but be themselves. They neither hesitate and are left behind nor attack the game and still lose. They just win because of who they are.

So if I’m wrong about Joe as the winner, I would be most comforted to have it be a Kyle win, or else I’m just more off on the themes as a general matter. A Kyle win would be that Survivor can’t just be about being strong/honest/loyal, but about being a more balanced player (flitting between hesitating and attacking the game as appropriate). I think that story is more concordant with most of the jurors’ stories — but is not as strongly linked as Joe’s to the themes of the season.

Perceived Win Equity

Joe: 67% (prev 70%)

Kyle: 20% (prev 10%)

Eva: 8% (prev 10%)

Kamilla: 4% (prev 5%)

Shauhin: 1% (prev 5%)

Mitch: 0% (prev 0%)

Going to do something a bit different now and just outline some of the loose ends I’d like to see wrapped up before the end of the season, and speculate how they might go:

Joe’s “Why”

This hasn’t really been brought up in the show proper to the best of my knowledge, but Joe was inspired to play by his sister, who lost her life to domestic abuse. You see him saying, “That’s for you J,” and pointing to the heavens after an immunity win, and there’s no missing the “Joanna” tattoo on his arm.

-Next episode is the family visit. This comes out at the family visit, and is either the reason to finally vote out Joe (heart over head), or the reason people cannot possibly betray him at this moment.

-This comes out at final tribal, and it turns a cold jury from ice into a sobbing puddle.

-Both of the above.

Kyle’s "imminent" decision

Kyle told us that either this round or the next one he has to betray Kamilla or Joe (and Eva and Shauhin, by extension). Why does it have to be by the next round for sure, when Mitch is on the table? Surely he could vote out Mitch without betraying either of them?

-Has there been a plan in the works to put at least three on Joe or Eva (preferably Joe) at six? -Or split the votes if Shauhin is down? If so, either this happens or Eva wins immunity and threatens an idol play on Joe so it can’t happen.

But I’m confused by this and it reeks of timeline manipulation to me, because in theory, as long Mitch is available to be voted out he can put off his moral dilemma another week. It makes me think Mitch is getting booted next episode.

What is Joe’s humble trait?

-If Joe wins, I think we’ll get a humble trait of his that’s more explicitly commented on, not just something we might be able to infer by now. Best/only idea based on what we’ve got so far is:

-His willingness to have a public partnership with Eva because it’s most important to him to be a Good Guy.

Eva can’t tell when people are lying to her:

-She wins immunity at 6 and is able to figure out that the vote is on Joe, plays the idol on him, and he stays. Growth edit!

-She doesn’t. In which case her humble trait either ruins her game and/or Joe’s, and if it’s just Joe who takes the bullet, this is the flaw she’s able to explain away at FTC as part of her winning story, or just another reason why she loses.

Civa as the “second chance” tribe:

-This isn't a loose thread you dummy! They’ve already had their second chance. And third chance. Mitch tried to pull them all together for a round, it didn’t work. They didn’t vote out Joe last round.

-Maybe they get yet another chance this upcoming episode, and don’t take it.

-Kyle, Mitch, Kamilla are our final three

And a bonus not-quite loose thread, because it’s from the upcoming episode title and description. A thread waiting to be unspooled, I suppose...

Episode Description: “Icarus Time”

“Castaways must decide between choosing heart over head as they enter the final six and last stage of the game. Letters from home feed the soul and strengthen bonds during this week’s reward at the sanctuary. Then, two castaways orchestrate a particularly convincing ruse, escalating the remaining tribe’s paranoia.”

Two castaways you say? Well, gotta be Kyle and Kamilla, you’d think.

A particularly convincing ruse could be anything, but the galaxy brain guess would be:

-If Joe wins immunity, Kamilla/Kyle (almost def Kamilla) tell Joe and Eva that Shauhin is planning on blindsiding Eva, they're telling him they're going along with it but not actually going to, and then actually plan drop just one vote on Eva themselves? That could either a) spook Eva into playing idol unnecessarily, so that way she can't give it to Joe at 5 if she wins b) whether she plays or doesn't, if there's only one Eva vote there, Joe and Eva might take that as validation for their story and be sus of Shauhin and willing to vote him out at 5, ensuring one of Kamilla/Kyle in F3. c) be invalidated before tribal, causing Shauhin to call one of them Icarus and one of them to go home. -Less galaxy brain-y but still wrinkly brain: A stray vote is thrown at tribal with the idea that it can be blamed on Joe because he talked about throwing a stray last round, but didn’t. -Conversely, maybe it’s a bamboozling of Eva/Joe in which one of them goes.

As for the title: the most likely person to reference Icarus on this cast by far would be Shauhin. Could be talking about himself, Joe, mayyyyyybe Eva/Kyle. Separately, could see Kyle referencing it. Whatever it is, Icarus pretty much fits the idea of “attacks the game and still loses,” for those unfamiliar with the story of Icarus.

One final thing I’ll note is that both of the challenges on the upcoming episode were played in season 45, and Austin won both of them. Weeeeeeee!

And as a table-setter for next week, whether Joe gets voted out or not, I plan on trying to make my most earnest case for the winning stories of the other players. So uh, that will definitely take on a little more urgency in the event Joe gets the boot.

A big shout-out to Nick and Dan from The Winner’s Edit podcast — been reading/listening to them for years now and really deepened my appreciation of the show and inspired me to start putting my thoughts on digital paper. Highly recommend listening/joining TWE discord. Any good insights here likely gleaned through osmosis; any facepalms are my b.

[localwebslingers]

With the cloaking up it was impossible to actually see Harry to really confirm it for himself, but Peter was pretty sure he could hear the thought and planning already being put into magnetized boots. How useful they might be, the problems in the design that would need to be accounted for, saying they needed attached to a suit to help with the force of gravity. Spending weeks working together in one lab made some of the signs that Harry was thinking about things a little easier to spot. Even if it was a joke, technically.

They also had listed "there's no pizza in this universe" in their list of possible things to try and avoid when making a device that traveled through the multiverse.

Peter watched as they and the glider suddenly became visible again, which was both weird and a nice break for his brain. He was getting used to the cloaking yes, but it was still a little weird to experience for long. He chose to watch what Harry was doing and how it was being moved before the effect was back again after a few moments, "That might be the better option then, yeah." he agreed. It also meant not risking the clocking dropping when someone could deice at that moment to walk through the area, and them being in line of sight.

He smiled slightly and waited for the go ahead to actually climb off the glider so it could be stored away, "That also sounds a lot more like carrying you both ways rather than just a hand or some webbing." he teased. As much as Peter trusted himself to shoot a web and hit where he needed it to, he wasn't sure it that would be cloaked too or not. Aiming with what could be considered extra sticky, and now invisible silly string while sneaking into a criminal hideout was not on his bingo card of things to experience today. The desert was surprise enough.

"I know I've been Jasmine in this scenario but I'm not above carrying Aladdin if he needs me to. Just to change it up."

|| @inhcritance ||

Harry couldn't help himself from sagely nodding along, at Peter's words about pacing on walls. Because while Harry was very happy with gravity holding him to the ground, and not at all interested on that changing, he'd seen Peter pace on the ceiling more than once and filed it down under the kind of things he just accepted and nodded along at, because who was he to judge Spider-behavior.

"Good magnetized boots would need to connect to the rest of the suit, to make sure it wouldn't be just the boots taking the brunt of the gravity... and to make sure they really held the feet." He hummed, sagely. "I'll think on it."

Because he could see many points of failure, and that was not a bad thing, if they could be solved... not that he really hoped to need those boots, but it never hurt to have ideas on the backbone, when they could be used for good, at some point. He could easily imagine firefighters making good use of them... and criminals too, unfortunately.

They had other topics to focus on, however, and so Harry nodded, looking around and moving until he was satisfied with his position , then crouching before shifting the cloaking from the Glider to his belt, the effect vanishing for a moment and rippling several times as it readjusted, before being stable again.

"Well, if you jump down with me," he considered, "we won't have to lower the cloaking again." He offered, because Peter would know where he was.

@localwebslingers

[dorimena]

Yea request are open! I’ve been thinking about it lately from another fic but would Hawks be able to get off from his own feathers being used on him like a vibrator? Maybe not just on the outside of him but also the inside if possible or would the feathers break? Really I just want the bird man to get overstimulated but I didn’t know if you’re okay with writing for him so just ignore this if you don’t

Hey! Nice to see you slide into the confessional again! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Hope you don't mind that this is going to be Hawks' debut into the covent for the thirsty people ready to confess their deepest desires on what to do with this man-

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Takami Keigo - Hawks

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 855

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; gender neutral reader, sex toys (vibrator, dildo, fleshlight), but the mentioned toys are somehow made from his feathers, implied orgasm denial, masturbation, caught, mentioned choking, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; silly monologue, Keigo wondering how he didn’t know he could do this sooner, reader wondering why Keigo didn’t know

𝕴 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖕𝖘

It was probably something he didn’t even know was possible until he made it become possible.

As far as Keigo knew, his feathers were either to be weapons, an aid, a shield, even a tracking device, kinda. But he never thought he could use them for his own selfish pleasure.

You’ve been neglecting him for weeks now, always running off and around because of work. It has him tempted to try convincing you, for the hundredth time, to quit your shitty job and work with him in his agency, but you always told him that this job is your dream job. So he’ll just respect that, but he won’t ever respect your boss or coworkers for using you like some slave to the industry.

Okay, maybe he’s just giving himself an unnecessary backstory to justify how the fuck he managed to get his feathers, the ones he grew up with for most part of his life, to fucking vibrate against his dick.

Vibrate. How do feathers even vibrate?

Well, how could feathers become lethal weapons is another question to answer another time.

But holy-

“Fuck! Fuck, that feels good.”

Keigo can’t help but groan, and if a little cute whimper followed, he ignored it. He doesn’t want to accept he’s already close to cumming, less beginning to already lose his cool.

Not like it mattered, considering you would always figure out new ways to make him lose his cool, his tranquility, his collectiveness, his ‘she-calls-me-daddy-too’ persona.

God, what would you fucking do to him if you found out his feathers are transportable, automatic, intensity level 7 vibrators?

He jerks his hips away from his 3 feathers, breathing heavily as he watches how they move, how they shake, how the tip of each feather was covered in his own precum. Ew, no wonder he keeps feeling something sticky cooling on his cheek, and here he thought he was beginning to cry-

Wait, nevermind, his hand can very much confirm he might’ve shed a tear.

Wiping away the droplets of water, whether it be other tears or simply his sweat, Keigo ponders over his next question: could he fuck himself with these newly discovered vibrators?

Great, now he feels weird.

Not because of his question but because of how… Well, his feathers still feel soft, even if having them in a certain abundance and covered with a condom. His makeshift vibrating dildo made by his dearest and loveable feathers keeps prodding at his already prepared hole (thanks to one of your buttplugs.)

Which reminds him: will you be coming home soon? Not so much because of the sheer embarrassment of having to clean your buttplug instead of one of his, but more so to maybe see your raw reaction about this scenario-

“SHIT- FUCK!”

Okay, maybe he should’ve also, like, paid attention to the fact his feathery dildo (ugh, come on, Keigo, name it something else) had been trying to enter him for the past few minutes. But instead of some slow, gentle, sensual insertion, he decided to fuck himself as hard as you usually thrust inside of him.

Just how much did he miss you?

“S-so much! Too much- Miss you~” He whispers to absolutely no one but his feathers and pillows under him, cheek planted on one of the plush, soft materials as he prepares himself for-

“Hnngh!”

That pornographic whimper once he activated the vibration mode.

And when you finally came home, instead of a clingy, pouty, loving boyfriend greeting you at the door and helping you with your stuff, you’re lead by the invisible string to your bedroom, eyes widening in amazement at the sheer impossible yet fucking sexy scene before you:

Keigo, in his trembling, toe curling, back arching and chest puffing position, thrusting into the makeshift fleshlight from his vibrating feathers-

Huh!?

You quickly cover your mouth, hoping that your choked gasp of disbelief drowned in his equally choked gasping and moaning.

Oh, he’s choking himself.

Let’s assess the man who the public admire as their #2 prohero and how he’s never, ever mentioned how his feathers could vibrate.

Again, you’ve walked into him trembling while he’s fucking a fleshlight and being fucked by a dildo made by his own feathers that, for some reason unknown, are imitating the sound and movement of the 7th setting on his wand vibrator.

You don’t really get much time to actually find the reasons and name facts to explain this erotic scene before Keigo’s grabbing one of the pillows and smothering his face with it, drowning out his screams and growls of being overwhelmed by the powerful orgasm his body catapaulted into, especially with how, prior to your arrival, he had been trying to convince himself that denying his orgasm for possibly the 10th time in barely under an hour was going to do more harm than good to him and his sanity.

[readerhead]

Masterlist

Hi pretty soul! First of all, as i always say, English is not my first language so feel free to correct any mistakes (as long as you're not rude or mean ofc). I don't know if what I do could be considered as writing, but I do it because sometimes I have these oddly specific scenarios and I don't find any fanfics that adjust to them and I thought maybe someone would like them too so I share them. I hope you enjoy them! :)

Matt Murdock:

The fella over there

All along

The project

Hits different

Stiles Stilinski:

Invisible string

Seth Cohen:

Locked up feelings ode

Also, I don't know if I should upload them in ao3, I use it really often so I'm hesitant. Anyways, I still need my fake scenarios to sleep so I'll write more.

Current character addictions

P.S.: Interacting with them (specially reblogs) is really appreciated and makes me feel more motivated, but obviously you don't have to if you don’t want.

[smuggsy]

Remember this post about how Riddler dug up Elijah's body and we just... collectively chose to ignore it along with Oswald? 😂

Well. I un-ignored it. With a sad angsty fic.

(You can read it down here as well.) Word count: 2040. Tags: #emotional comfort #established relationship #hence: canon divergence #nightmares

Oswald's used to having nightmares. He's no stranger to sleepless nights, 5-am coffees have become a bit of a recurrent habit to make up for the drowsiness clouding his mind after a particularly difficult dream chimes in without permission and throws his sleeping schedule off — so much that he often finds himself power-napping through the day when Ed isn't around to tell him off for it.

Yes, he's almost grown too accustomed to Hugo Strange's voice narrating all sorts of gruesome scenarios that he ends up carrying out of his own volition, propelled forward by an unknown and invisible force deep inside. He never really sees the Doctor, but he hears him all the time, he's just there all the time. He tells Oswald what to do and Oswald does it without a pinch of remorse. Shoot him. Stab her. Blow them all to pieces, they deserve it.

It's the kind of hell he's used to. He's almost learnt to accept it's never going away. That it's a part of his psyche now, a part of him that will never really go away — because how do you fix a tattered mind? He wouldn't let anyone try, anyway. Not after Arkham.

This night is different. This night he's assaulted by a new kind of terror, almost perfectly calibrated and specially curated for him. Blossoming from the deepest part of his mind where he'd stocked it, never to be revisited.

And it's most cruel for one reason: when he wakes up with a startle he can't bear the thought of those arms wrapping around him and providing comfort like they've done so many times before. In fact, the first thing he does when he opens his eyes is untangle himself from Ed's sleeping embrace like it burns him.

Which means he's got no-one but himself to count on, again. No-one to hush him through the aftermath and speak softly in his ear and hum a long-dead melody until he calms down or, if he's lucky, falls back asleep.

"Oswald?"

He sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over to catch his breath, and feels Ed shifting position behind him. His partner's voice is clouded with sleep and Oswald can't bring himself to even turn around and reassure him — lie��to him. He fears if he turns around he won't see Ed but Riddler. Not Ed's gentle eyes but Riddler's mocking glare. Not a warm comforting smile but a disdainful sneer.

His father, standing on the other side of the bed with a disappointed frown. My boy, how could you steep so low? Do you know where I am? Do you know where he left me?

When Ed's warm fingers brush over his right shoulder Oswald bolts upright with a whine.

"Osw—?"

And he runs to the bathroom and slams the door close behind him, feeling his one-piece nightgown sticking to his chest with sweat.

"Oswald, what's wrong?" Edward's voice is immediately on the other side, he tries turning the doorknob but Oswald is pinning it closed with his own weight, still unable to brush away the gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal that's so suddenly taken hold of him, "Oswald, get off the door."

It's a gentle request.

Oswald might have done it, perhaps, might have considered it, if he hadn't looked right into the mirror hanging on the opposite wall and seen Elijah's pale and sickness-stricken face. A dead man's face that makes him shiver.

He shall never have peace, so long as you're with him, Oswald thinks. Some other Oswald. Some other voice that sounds like his but isn't. Can't be.

"Oswald," Ed tries again, and this time he pushes against the door with more conviction, Oswald leans off and turns around to face him when he comes in, to keep him away, Riddler, he's still in there, he's— "oh dear," Ed coos, having one look at him and taking pity instantly. He takes a step forward and Oswald takes a step back.

"No!" he blurts out with a raspy voice. Edward stops dead in his tracks, lost expression for a moment before his shoulders relax again.

"It's okay, Oswald. It was just a nightmare," he adds, softly like so many times before.

"No, it isn't! It wasn't!" Oswald lashes out, hating that he looks at Ed's dishevelled face and concerned caramel eyes and wants him to just get away, his voice comes out just barely, "you did that to him! You— How could you?!"

Ed opens his mouth and doesn't move, clearly taken aback by the accusation even if he fails to comprehend, thrown off by the way Oswald looks at him, stands like that, like a wounded animal, like he might flee if Edward takes another step forward.

He still takes a step forward, though, because he never was really good with physical cues.

"Os, I don't understand wha—"

"Don't touch me!"

Oswald jerks away and hits the wall behind, still shivering despite his burning skin. Edward shows him his palms, a gesture of surrender.

"Okay. Okay, I'm not," he takes a steadying breath in, "I'm staying right here."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's not him, I swear! I didn't—"

"Oswald?"

"He's different now! He's not like that anymore!"

Oswald gestures towards Ed, clever, supportive, thoughtful, with his checked blue pyjamas and plaid shirt and lack of glasses and puffy eyes from sleep. Then he looks back at his father now standing by the door and projects the thought: Ed. Not Riddler!

But Elijah shakes his head and purses his lips, looking him up and down like he doesn't approve and Oswald just needs him to understand.

"It's not hiiiiim!"

"Oswald, this is starting to become very unsettling."

Edward looks around, to his right, there. To where Oswald's looking, to nothing. He knows that deranged gaze, he's seen it countless times before, he's stood in front of the mirror a lot of times and seen it on himself.

"Os, it's just those new painkillers making you groggy, okay? It's a much heavier dose than the one you're used to. Whatever you're seeing," Edward chances a slow step forward and Oswald finally turns his head back to him, with glassy eyes and tears on his eyelashes and still looking like he'll run away, "it's not there, Oswald. I am here."

Oswald stares at him for a few more silent moments with a lost expression, mouth open and still bracing himself with one hand on the cold tiles behind and the other on the sink.

"You're not... you're not him, I try to— I tell him you're not," he babbles, looking feverish and lost.

That's when the penny drops for Edward. It feels like a stab to the heart, that broken voice, the trembling hands, the quivering lips, the whole sight of an Oswald so distressed he won't even let him get close enough to soothe him.

"No," Ed says softly, his own voice failing him for a moment, shaking his head and taking yet another step closer, "no," he repeats breathless, "I'm not. Please. Come here."

He reaches an offering hand and Oswald slowly looks down as if weighing his options. As if making sure this isn't a trick — which, well. If he's thinking of Riddler, he can hardly be blamed for exercising caution, Ed admits. It hurts him to admit it. To know he's caused this, one way or another. Painkillers or not. This raw incoherent fear is coming from somewhere, however small the flame that ignited it might be, and he can't fix it because Oswald won't stop trembling like a leaf and recoiling.

"Oswald, please," he begs, voice finally breaking and eloquence escaping him, retrieving his outstretched hand and rubbing fingers over his burning eyelids because if he breaks down too... "please, it's me, Ed, just Ed."

He doesn't know what to do. He's on the verge of blurting out apologies when he opens his eyes to Oswald latching onto him with one of those desperate hugs. Ed wraps his arms around him instantly, a reflex, feeling like he's just come back to life.

"Go away," Oswald says, sobs with his face buried in the crook of his neck and starts crying. Edward tightens his hold and hides his own tears in the other man's raven locks, understands he's not the one being spoken to, "go, please. I won't leave him!"

Edward can barely understand the string of pleas when Oswald's clutching onto him so firmly his words come out muffled and nearly intelligible. Either way, he's not about to ask who's there — better not add salt to the wound. Not feed the horror, lest it become a recurrent thing. He needs him to understand this is a figment of his imagination if he's not aware already.

"Shhhh, it's all good," he keeps Oswald in place with an arm around his waist and brings the other one to gently pet his hair, "it's o-kay, Oswald. I'm here, it's just you and me."

Oswald nods against his chest but he can't seem to bring himself to stop crying. Edward rubs circles on his back.

"Just you and me," he repeats, striving for a soothing voice and feeling it waver ever so slightly.

They stay like that for a whole five minutes until Oswald finally leans back, sniffs and looks up with red eyes and a self-deprecating comment on his lips that Ed doesn't let him voice out.

"Come on, it's freezing out here."

Ed guides him back under the covers and tucks him in, Oswald watches his every move like an overcurious child. That cloudy expression is gone, though, and Ed can't help but let out a sigh of relief at having him back. He looks drained but sober.

Mostly sober.

His eyes still dart around with a nervous air but he doesn't seem to find his demon anywhere. When Ed climbs back up on the bed Oswald immediately shifts closer and hides his face in his shirt again.

"I'm sorry, that—"

"No-uh-uh," Ed cuts in, brushing a strand of hair off his green doe eyes and feeling an almost compulsive need to plant a kiss on the now-red tip of his nose, "say no more."

Oswald purses his lips and shuffles even closer, pressing his flush body so firmly against Ed's that they can't exactly see each other's faces anymore.

"Can you...?"

"Yes I can."

And that's that. He settles his chin on top of Oswald's head and starts humming; content to sidestep the issue just for now but unable to brush aside the sour taste of guilt filling almost every corner of his mind.

He starts rubbing circles on Oswald's back and doesn't stop the melody until he feels the other man's hold loosen up and his breath change into a normal and peaceful pace. Only then does Edward slowly extract himself from the embrace, far enough that he can look at Oswald's face.

Red and wet and troubled, still. He reaches over and soothes the lines on his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Os," he breathes out.

He's used to Oswald having nightmares. He wakes up all heaving breaths and uncertain hands latching onto anything that's near for comfort, for safety or reassurance. Ed is always there to provide either one, wrap his arms around his shaking form and listen to him if he wants to talk. Make him a cup of tea or play soft tunes on the piano if sleep doesn't return.

Oswald's always been needy like that.

Having him wake up and frantically keep himself away, recoil from his touch and excuse himself to a third party only he can see... that's a first.

And it's terrifying.

Because He made that happen. Because Oswald's grown to be too dependant and Ed's grown to be his anchor in moments like these and if he can't even be that... then what can he be? What's left for him to be, besides the clear instigator?

Ed closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, focusing on the sound of Oswald's breathing and on the touch of his cold feet and the smell of cherry-scented hair conditioner. He relishes in the familiarity of the hold and shakes the darker thoughts away.

Perhaps he's become a bit dependant himself.

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

All your fault [Sirius Black x Reader] - Requested

Title: All your fault Pairing: Sirius Black x Gryffindor!Reader Word count: 1.9k Published: 16 February, 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: Sirius’ boredom causes you to end up in detention. Or so you think, but he has a different perspective on the events and you clearly can’t find the golden middle. Request: [x] I have combined two requests. One from Tumblr and one from Wattpad. I took the liberty to change some things, but overall it’s the same. 

“Hey Talented! Could you write a Sirius x Gryffindor!reader where the reader is jock with intense emotions and a chaser in Quidditch team? Also Is exceptionally talented at DADA and that make sirius jealous and turned-on too? please?” - @marauders-hogwarts​​ 

“Hey, I was just reading your marauders x reader one shots and I had an idea for one. Could you pls make one where Sirius gets into an argument with you and at the end grabs your hand to turn you around and abruptly smashes his lips against yours and asks you to be his girl. And the next day he comes up to you and tell you that ther is something wrong with your hand untill he picks it up and puts his own hand in yours and says that's better. Please? Thanks so much. I am a huge fan of your work.” - @Tamarakyra [Wattpad]

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

Sirius Black had never been one to question things. He was very stubborn much to his professors’ dismay. Doing what he wanted regardless of consequences has become his personal motto. Swaying him seemed impossible, he always knew what he wanted, how he wanted it and when he wanted it.

However, on a rainy dull Saturday afternoon as he was watching you up in the air, flying across the quidditch pitch on your broomstick, your hair flat against your face, your uniform drenched in water, your eyes covered with a pair of goggles, something has changed within him. For a mere moment he felt as if time had stopped as you screamed at James for not being able to catch the snitch and win against Ravenclaw. His eyes focused only on you, even forgetting about the ongoing match.

The way you sat on your broomstick leaning forward to speed up, the way you tucked the quaffle under your arm and secured it, the sheer amount of energy you projected and the bold tone you used against his best friend all hit him right in the chest, forcing him to fall back onto the bench of the bleachers. He didn’t know where his sudden feelings came from, but the unexpected warmness filling him up from the inside made him smile at the simple sight of you. From then on, he knew the friendship you had has become more on his side.

You sat right beside Sirius at Defence Against the Dark Arts, doodling on the parchment in front of you as he kept nudging you, trying to get your attention.

“What now?” you asked for the 10th time in the past 10 minutes. “Perhaps you could focus more on the lesson. You need it more than I do,” you hissed angrily, feeling fed up with his childish behaviour.

“I’m bored,” he whined in a silent whisper.

“I can see that,” you scoffed as you drew another random pattern on your paper. Closing out the lesson, you focused completely on your drawing, finding it more interesting than whatever your professor was talking about. That was until Sirius started nudging you again.

“What now?” you hissed in anger, slightly raising your voice, but you quickly silenced yourself as you looked around, every pair of eyes focusing on you, including your professor’s. “I’m so sorry,” you apologised, hunching your back, trying to hide away from embarrassment.

“Since you have already graced us with your attention, why don’t you answer the question?” he asked in a pompous tone, clearly trying to make you feel even more awkward. However, as the new teacher, he couldn’t have known about your exceptional knowledge and talent on the subject. It took you a good second to recall the memory from the darkest and deepest part of your mind, before you were ready to answer.

“The Tongue-tying curse prevents people from being able to form a coherent sentence, therefore stopping them from being able to incantate further spells. Although Langlock its sibling curse also prevents people from being able to speak, in this spell’s case the tongue sticks to the roof of the mouth, whilst when using Silencio it causes the victim to be temporarily muted,” you explained proudly. The professor didn’t compliment you, nor did he scold you. He offered you a deadpan expression and cleared his throat.

Sirius snickered beside you with a proud grin across his face, knowing the professor didn’t expect your reply. Years ago, he would have told you off for being a know it all, but now he found it comical. He didn’t know if it was because his feelings had changed or because it was you who did it, but in the end it didn’t matter. You could have done anything and he would have supported you like a loyal puppy. At times he couldn’t even believe how easily affected he was by you.

“Khm- smartass,” you heard a cough from the side as Evan Rosier was trying to cover his words in an obvious manner. You were not one to let others walk over you nor did you plan to be one in that moment. You felt anger bubbling up inside you, the boy’s mere presence irritating you.

“Let me show the spell in practice, professor,” you grinned proudly as he turned around with a shocked expression across his face, ready to stop you in mid-spell. However, he was slower than he wished to be and before he could have said anything, the word left your lips. “Silencio,” you lifted your hand and pointed your wand at the boy, watching as he grabbed his throat, desperately trying to speak, gaping like a fish, but no words leaving his mouth.

Sirius watched as the scenario unfolded in front of him. His initial surprise quickly disappeared as he saw a smirk appear across your face, pure pride taking over your stance. He always admired your can-do attitude and bold personality, possibly one of the reasons you have been such good friends. He wasn’t lacking any of those personality traits, but when he saw you standing up for yourself, being strong and independent, it just drove him crazy. It made him feel like there was an invisible string between the two of you, pulling him closer and closer to you.

Since he realised his own feelings for you, he was watching every little move of yours, trying to protect you from everything and anything that could possibly hurt you. But before he could ever intervene and show you how much he cared for you, you took care of it, proving once again how independent you were. He didn’t mind though, he loved the strength you harboured, he just wished to be able to show you that you could rely on him.

You watched as the professor rushed up to Rosier, pulling his wand out of the inner pocket of his robe and quickly using the counter spell on him, before rushing up to your table, his index finger pointing right between your eyes. “Detention! How dare you? Detention after classes!” he shouted at you, veins popping on the side of his neck and temple, his face turning red in anger. If he had time, he would have probably embarrassed you in front of the whole class, but as the bell rang, indicating the end of your class, he had no choice, but to let you go.

Quickly collecting your belongings, you hurried out of the classroom with Sirius right behind you, calling your name relentlessly as you were about to cross the Courtyard.

“What do you want?” you asked angrily as you halted. You didn’t want to sound rude, being around Sirius was the highlight of your day, but at that moment he was a pain in your backside.

“Woah, calm down,” he gestured with his hands, but if anything, it made you angrier.

“Calm down? Calm down? It was all your fault to begin with. If you didn’t nag me about being bored, I would have kept drawing and kept my mouth shut. But you just couldn’t find anything better to do so you decided to get on my nerves and now of course it’s me who has to go to detention,” you rambled, annoyed, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself.

“Okay, I accept that I was nagging you, but I didn’t curse my classmate,” he scoffed with a hidden smile in the corner of his lips.

“It’s not funny! If you didn’t nag me, the professor wouldn’t have questioned me, which means Rosier would have never insulted me, hence the reason you are at fault,” you groaned as you turned around and started walking away.

“Hey, stop already,” he whined, but you didn’t halt your steps, if anything, you sped up. “I’m sorry,” he tried to break the ice, but it seemed to just fire you up even more. You turned on your heel, stopping right in front of the boy.

“Sorry? That’s it? You just have to say sorry and I’m supposed to forget about it?” you scoffed in disbelief. “You must be joking,” you looked up at him in clear astonishment, but after seemingly waiting for an eternity Sirius still didn’t reply.

He wanted to, he was about to defend himself, but as he watched you getting worked up about such a minor issue, at least minor for him, he could only think about how adorable you looked when you were upset. Not that he ever wanted to see you angry or sad, but for some reason it just caught his eyes that instead of being threatening, you seemed as if you were slightly pouting.

You groaned, annoyed as the silence grew between the two of you and a small smile started appearing on Sirius’ face. “I hate you!” you shouted at him as you left him behind, stomping across the Courtyard, heavy and loud steps following you.

“Do you?” he shouted after you, silently chuckling, finding your behaviour quite funny and somewhat cute.

“I do!” you replied sulking, your steps becoming quicker.

Sirius couldn’t just let you walk away, he jogged after you and grabbed your wrist, halting your steps, pulling you back against his chest. For a second even the air stuck in your lungs as you realised how close you were to him, his breath fanning your face, his pink lips almost touching yours. You were completely engulfed by his aura, his warm hold on your wrist sending shivers through your body as his other arm sneaked around your waist.

You could swear he felt your dangerously racing heart against his chest, your lips quivering in anticipation, wanting nothing but to feel his mouth on yours. As if he could read your mind, he leaned closer and closed the gap between the two of you, kissing you slowly, sensually. You expected him to be slightly aggressive, maybe dominating, but his kiss was more passionate, gentle instead, causing you a delightful surprise.

“Why?” you breathed against his lips as you parted, your eyes still closed, completely lost in the moment.

“Because I wanted to do it for a long time,” he whispered.

“Why would you?” you chuckled awkwardly. He was always your closest friend and now that you kissed, knowing the friendship you have had was gone, you didn’t know what to do.

“Do I really need to say it?” he scratched the back of his neck, pulling a face, feeling embarrassed about the words you waited for so impatiently.

“If you don’t say it out loud, how do you expect me to understand?” you questioned, and Sirius knew how right you were.

“I- khm,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I- I have liked you for a while,” his words were silent and unsure, making you question it.

“Are you sure?” you asked, making him feel even more awkward.

“Of course, I’m,” he groaned, slightly sulking. “It’s just not easy to say.”

“Is it easier if I say I like you too?” you giggled happily, watching as his embarrassed expression slowly changed into a proud grin.

“I knew it, I felt it,” he chuckled happily, earning a deadpan look from you as you slapped his chest gently, before your lips curved into a small smile.

“Right, you did,” you scoffed as you peeled his hands off you and started walking to your next class with a hidden smile in the corner of your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he called after you as he tried to catch up to you.

“What now?” you asked, rolling your eyes as Sirius joined beside you.

“There’s something wrong with your hand,” he stated with a deep frown. You looked down at your hand, lifting it up, looking at it curiously, turning it up and down, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“What do you mean? It seems alright to me,” you replied in confusion, but you couldn’t take a closer look at it as Sirius took it in his hand, interlocking your fingers.

“Now, it’s better,” he grinned playfully, making you giggle.

“Sirius Orion Black, you have a horrible sense of humour,” you scoffed, but you couldn’t fool him. He knew his little joke made you happy and even if it didn’t, the warm feeling of each other's touch, your small hands engulfed by his big palm made up for his silly joke.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

Harry Potter general taglist:

@awritingtree​ @chloer1275​ @emmaev​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @inkhearthes​ @pregnant-piggy​ @anchy-bananchy​ @sreidswhore​ @levylovegood​ @fific7​ @harrypotter289​ @moatsnow​ @pandaxnienke​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @iliveiloveiwrite​ @acuunaa​ @nuttytani​ @audreythehufflepuff​ @the-unmanaged-mischief​ @mesmerisedangel​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @justmesadgirl​ @montsepliego​ @iamninaanna​ @hahee154hq​ @emilianamason​ @theincredibledeadlyviper​ @bruxa0007​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @naviation-xx​ 

Harry Potter - Sirius Black taglist:

@msmb​ @aspiringsloth20​ 

[curiouschild]

Twin Butterflies

|| Jean Kirstein x fem! reader one shot ||

Summary: You’re taking a private moment on the morning of your wedding day with butterflies in your stomach when it’s interrupted.

Warnings: f l u f f <3

____________________________

No one else stirred in the cabin you were renting for yourself and your bridesmaids. It must have been a little after 6 in the morning as you could see the promise of dawn on the edge of the horizon. The wood was cold beneath your bare feet as you headed down the hall. In the haze of the morning fog that misted your brain, an invisible string seemed to be tugging you towards a large oak door. As you approached it, your nerves crackled beneath your skin as you gripped the metal handle, pushing the door open.

In the middle of the room with several large gaping windows was an elegant draping of white tulle and lace giving off a faint luminous glow in the early morning light. Wandering over to your wedding dress, your hand dips into the fabric of the skirt as if you could find the promises you would be making with Jean Kirstein could be found in its depths to calm you on one of the biggest days of your life.

Basking in the elegance of the most beautiful dress you will most likely ever own, you began to think of your soon to be husband who was sleeping in another cabin with his groomsmen. The two of you thought it would be lovely to get married in a wonderful little clearing in the woods that was owned by the family of your friend and bridesmaid, Sasha Braus. There were a few cabins as well that she offered to let you and your fiancee stay in before the big day. It was all so incredibly generous of her to accommodate yourself and your fiancee.

Your lips tug upwards as you thought about Jean. Was he peacefully sleeping? Was he about to get up for his usual morning jog? Or maybe he was starting a breakfast for his friends since he always loves to cook for people he cared about.

These thoughts made your heart flutter as you realized the mornings to come would be spent experiencing any of these scenarios with him. The serenity of those thoughts were clouded by the increasing amount of butterflies humming in your stomach. Even though you knew that no matter what, today was going to be special.

A quiet *tap tap tap* on glass had you reeling from your thoughts. Your eyes flicked towards one of the large windows where the noise came from. Your face pinked when you found warm hazel eyes watching you. Jean smiled softly, waving at you from outside. You returned his smile, loosening the fabric from your hands as you made your way to open the window.

“Good morning beautiful,” he greeted. Up close you saw that he was wearing a simple workout tank and loose sweatpants hung low at his hips.

 With no screen in the way, he propped his long arms on the ledge and leaned his head through the window. His considerable height made his eyes remain almost at the same level as yours even as he slouched.

“Hi there. This is a surprise,” you said.

“A pleasant one I hope,” he chuckled. He opened his palm up to you and you slipped your hand into his, enjoying the warmth of his touch. “I woke up before any of the guys and felt like going for a walk. I couldn’t help passing by your cabin. What a lucky thing for me to see my beautiful bride before anyone else on our wedding day,” he murmured as his eyes studied your face in awe. He seemed to love drinking in the sight of you despite your clearly just-woke-up appearance.

“It’s certainly lovely to see you before everyone’s buzzing around getting ready,” you agree, your free hand reaching up to softly trace his jaw. The pads of your fingers grazed stubble. “I can’t even believe I was able to sleep. I’m so nervous about today- I think the worrying woke me up.”

His brow crinkled at your comment. “Why are you nervous, love?” He cupped his hands around yours and his fingers began to massage the back of your hand in soothing circles. You pause for a moment as he continued to knead into your skin carefully as you considered the question. 

“There’s two things that come to mind,” you start. “Firstly, that I’m going to trip down the aisle. I wonder if that’s every bride’s fear, honestly. It seems like such a long walk and even if we laughed it off what if I ruined the dress? Or worse, stumble and trip into someone like your mom?”

You thought for a moment Jean would laugh at you for coming up with silly what-if’s, but he only continued to press his fingers into your palm. His hazel eyes were slightly amused, but he only said, “And what is the second thing my bride is worried about?”

You inhaled slowly before saying, “Well.. secondly, I’m nervous everything will pass by in such a blur that I won’t take in the moment.”

At this, you could see his handsome face become sympathetic. When he didn’t say anything you went on, “It feels like I haven’t seen you much this past month and all of the last minute planning has felt like such an onslaught of emotional and mental energy to the point where I don’t remember much of anything. We went sent out invitations and suddenly we’re here. I don’t want today to flash by like our engagement has.”

Jean brought your hand to his lips and softly pressed them across your knuckles before he asked quietly, “Come with me?”

You glanced down at your small silken robe that barely hit the edge of your short pajama shorts. “In this? I don’t even have shoes on.”

Jean smiled. “We won’t go far, I promise.” He tugged his hand and you laughed a little and muttered a small “oh fine.”

He stepped back, keeping your hand in his as you began to slide yourself through the window sill. The grass was still dewey as the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder and hands intertwined.

The jitteriness you had been experiencing on and off were left behind as you let Jean lead you towards a hidden path behind the cabin. There was a calming stillness, and neither of you felt the need to say anything. Your eyes glanced over every now and again to Jean’s face. He was keeping his eyes up, watching the tops of the trees. When you two were younger, he was often chatty and talked about himself until he was blue in the face. When he joined the regiment, he changed from being self centered, to a man who would do whatever it takes to protect those he loves. It made him more reflective. Humble. And one of the most passionate people you had ever known.

It wasn’t long before you two arrived at the clearing where your ceremony would be held. This was the first time you had a chance to see the seats set up along the trail of stepping stones that marked the path you would be taking to Jean later in the day.

You almost forgot to breathe as you took it all in. Jean squeezed your hand softly. “I can’t believe I get to marry you here,” he said softly before he moved into the last aisle to take a seat. You joined beside him in the innermost chair.

The blush returned to your face and you couldn’t help pressing your cheek against him. “It feels wrong to be here before the ceremony starts.”

You felt his laugh in his shoulder. “That’s what makes coming out here fun. Besides, if I can take your worries about our wedding away, then it can’t be that bad.” His eyes wandered up to the alter ahead and the two of you basked in the silence for a few moments.

“I sure do love you,” he finally said, tightening his hand around yours. “I loved you for the last several years. And I’ll love you if we’re saying our vows in front of everyone, or if we say them right here  in our pajamas and skip the entire ceremony.” 

Your eyes widened and your laughter rang in the clearing. “We aren’t skipping out on the wedding!”

The corner of his eyes crinkled at your laughter. “I know, I’m just being reassuring. You know what I mean though.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you teased him, lifting your head to press your lips against his cheek

“And yet, you’re still here with me,” he mused.

You bit your lip a little bit. His endearing charm always made you feel a bit like a school girl. “I couldn’t see myself here with anyone else.”

He rolled his eyes. “Now who’s the cheesy one?” He bumped his shoulder against your playfully. His hand left yours so he could wrap his arm around you.

“You told me earlier you’re nervous about walking up the aisle.”

You nodded shyly.

“Well, let me tell you that if you trip, I’ll just come to you.”

“No!” You quickly exclaimed. “That would emphasize the embarrassment.”

He smirked a little. “Then I’ll just have to trip on my way to helping my future wife. Then all of the attention will fall on me. And as far as you tripping into someone like my mom, it would be okay.”

You groaned at the thought. “If I trip into anyone I will die on the spot.”

His lips pressed into your temple affectionately. “I can’t let that happen. If you trip and fall into anyone, I’ll run to you in the aisle. I can just grab your hand and we’ll run away together. If your dress is ripped, I’ll carry you as we book it out of here.”

You shook your head, unable to stop grinning picturing him doing everything he can to help you in these imaginative situations.

“As for fearing about today going by in a blur,” he went on, his head turning to gaze into your eyes lovingly. “I think starting the day with just you is keeping me rooted in the moment. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He pressed his nose sweetly against yours and you felt any last of your butterflies quiet. It was quite something to remember the glow of your love for each other.

“I’m jealous that you haven’t had anxiety like I have. You’ve been so comforting.”

Pulling back, you were surprised to see a gentle flush in his face.

“Oh I’ve got my own butterflies, but for you I can ignore them.”

You tucked your head into the crook of his shoulder once more and you felt his head rest over yours.

“Well let me comfort you this time. What is my sweet Jean afraid will happen on our special day?”

“That our friendly neighborhood suicidal maniac is gonna do something stupid at our wedding,” he grumbled.

Through your giggling, you managed to say, “That’s what you get for making Eren a groomsmen.”

You heard Jean let out a scoff. “I knew you couldn’t sympathize,” he said in an exaggeratedly hurt voice.

The two of you talked and laughed together a little longer as sunlight danced over the tops of the trees. And in the moment, there was only the bond between you and Jean with the rest of your lives ahead of you.

[mellowasinyellow]

100daysofwriting - Day 1

So I thought for the first day I might just briefly outline all of the WIPs I have actually made a start on and that might help me to decide where I want to focus some energy. I have some for Katniss/Peeta in THG fandom and some for Natasha/Clint in the MCU.

Everlark

folklore series - so I started this series of fics inspired by songs from Taylor Swift's album folklore because honestly those songs just immediately bring to mind so many scenarios that made me think of Katniss and Peeta. I made a start on chapters based on peace, my tears ricochet, invisible string, this is me trying, and mad woman. I also have a bit of an outline for continuing the story that was started in 'the 1'.

I've had this one WIP ongoing since about 2015(?) which is a bit of a monster that has grown beyond me but basically it involves Katniss and Gale being raised in the Capitol in relative poverty after their fathers are conscripted into the peacekeepers because of traitorous activity. Mrs Everdeen is still from 12 but was moved to the Captiol to be married (this part is sketchy) and she still had a little childhood romance with Mr Mellark. Peeta gets reaped and Mrs Everdeen reacts to this as he looks like his father. Katniss gets a crush on him as she watches him prepare for the games. She hates herself for it but finds herself checking up on how he is doing even during non-mandatory viewing.

Arranged Marriage - I feel like this is such a cliche for thg fandom, but I just imagined my own way that the pairings happen but I'm so bad at writing slow burn so this will probably never materialise, but if you want a semi-decent thought out pairing/arranged marriage system I would be happy to lend you mine.

Miscarriage fic - I will never post this, but it's in my WIP folder. It's full of nasty feelings that feel a little better when they are written about.

Modern AU Pandemic Quarantine! - ofc, this is essential. Katniss and Peeta end up as the only people not to move home from their dorm for the quarantine. Slow burn that I can't fucking write should ensue.

Canon Pandemic Quarantine AU - pandemic a few years after the end of the war forces Katniss to admit she wants Peeta as more than a friend with whom she hunts, bakes, rebuilds the district. Cue sexy pandemic times and a resentful Haymitch that keeps accidentally breaking the rules.

Divorced but co-parenting Everlark - obviously finding their way back together

Another classic of their children being reaped and dying - I don't know why I write things this depressing. They just tend to come out in one big rush and then I never address them again.

Real weird teen pregnancy modern day AU - don't know where it's going or why...

Modern day AU dead Prim - Peeta and Katniss just met each other through mutual friends and are kind of flirting. Peeta is a bit infatuated. Katniss stops going to mutual friend parties and he finds out it's because her sister died. Instead of staying away he gets tangled up in her grief and does all sorts of practical things while Katniss wallows. Also it's E rated but not that much fun... can't entirely explain where this one came from either...

Single Parent AU where Finnick and Annie play match maker. Probably my fave Everlark in the works but it's another one that has grown so big for the 20 minutes I can dedicate to it each week.

Clintasha

Red Room Take Down - Nat and Clint are retired and living a quiet family life with their child. SHIELD appears asking for Nat's help in taking down the red room and dealing with the fall out, specifically what to do with the girls that they get out. Nat is torn but chooses to go. Chaos ensues with the 'rescued' girls. I need to actually develop some OCs a little if I ever want this to be good but tbh the pending Black Widow movie is kind of holding me back on this one too because I hope we find out more about the red room.

So I have a weird habit of writing from Lila Barton's POV. I can't explain it. I have AoU and like to pretend it never happened but anyway I have a WIP about Lila detailing the collapse of her parents' marriage after Clint retires and he and Laura actually have to spend time together without Natasha. She then goes on to describe the custody settlement and her utter joy that Auntie Nat sleepovers with them at her dad's place. She feels utterly betrayed when she finds out they are getting engaged.

Fluffy AU - Clint and Natasha in an established relationship with a son born between infinity war and endgame. Natasha still sacrifices on Vormir, but Steve gets her back no bother and it's so nice and happy and fluffy and Clint and Natasha are together and they have a son who has both parents back and Steve gets to make all this happen and he is so happy too and they have a barbecue and go swimming in a lake and clint/natasha have private time, and their kid wants to be captain america, and did I mention how HAPPY everyone is?

Another fic similar to the above just about everyone being so HAPPY. Endgame reverses the snap and instead of weird farm family coming back Clint and Natasha get their daughter back and it's just a cute moment about her reappearance and their race back to the spot she disintegrated from. (Steve/Bucky go to Vormir and Steve is sacrificed, but that fucker CHOSE to leave).

This is another one that has just grown bigger than my brain. it's based off the idea that Natasha helped with coordinating fosterings during the blip time. Clint loses his mind when he loses his family and crashes in BedStuy but finds a neighbour girl (Kate Bishop) who is fending for herself in post-apocalyptic Brooklyn. He helps her out and tries to get children's services involved but it has collapsed. Finds out Natasha is the one getting everything in order. He gets in touch. She's at the end of her tether and asks why he can't keep looking after her. In the end he does and she ends up getting involved and all three get overly attached to each other. I haven't got as far as the events of endgame and idk what's going to happen. It might be tragic.

Pregnant Natasha but nobody knows what is wrong with her because they don't even suspect her being pregnant is possible. Just a real vivid description of the early unpleasant pregnancy symptoms.

Another absolute monster - Sort of canon compliant to begin with aside from before the farm family disappear. Clint and Laura are in the middle of separating and tensions are running quite high at the farm. Snap happens. Nat and Clint accidentally run into each other while both a bit low during the blip and get drunk and share home truths. Begin working together from HQ and both get a little less sad. He convinces her she doesn't have to be responsible for the world's fate every moment of every day. Clint has a break down at Morgan's 1st birthday and realises that things will have to change. Nat has this realisation later. They begin sleeping together. Accidental pregnancy. More feelings come out between them. They enter a more conventional relationship and have baby. Baby is really hard work (colic) and they struggle with comparisons and feelings of inadequacy. Pepper helps them to identify the colic and improves everything greatly. Happy times with baby while also running the avengers. Opportunity to reverse snap. Some good scenes between Nat and Tony. A big conversation between Nat and Clint about what it will mean. Steve and Nat end up going to Vormir together. Nat is obviously about to commit suicide. Steve over powers her and gives her a pep talk about the situation she is running away from and how to deal with it. He self-sacrifices. Clint goes back to farm fam and Natasha goes back to BedStuy with baby. Clint has to tell Laura and then the kids about the last 5 years and their new siblings. Nate is super into it. Cooper is a bit aloof and cynical. Lila is confused. Laura is quietly seething. Clint helps put the farm back together about 5 years of neglect and the kids meet baby. Family gets happier. Laura and Nat eventually meet again and it's civil/friendly.

My own version of what happened in Budapest.

The Call - inspired by a post here on tumblr. Nat calls Clint as she bleeds out. Just needs a beta reader and then I would consider publishing.

AoU reimagined but with Clintasha - I'm not sure where this one is going it's like a massive spider web right now with lots of ideas shooting off, but basically it is inspired by this post and just involves a lot of hoodwinking the other avengers.

Accidental Baby Acquisition - Natasha becomes Yelena's child's legal guardian after Yelena gets taken out. Natasha and Yelena are estranged at this point and Natasha things the whole thing is a trap and brings Clint along. He is surprisingly good with the baby so she ropes him in to teach her. The three of them end up bonding.

5 times there's only 1 bed + 1 time they choose to sleep in the same bed.

non-superhero AU Clint and Nat both think they have adopted a stay cat but actually the cat has owners and just likes strokes and eats a lot so has many 'families'. They get into an argument over which of them the cat belongs to only to find out the cat has owners and they are moving away. They decide to adopt a cat between them as both are not hope that much and the shelter refused them as single people. Slow burn ensues, which I am shit at writing.

[uwumessenger]

Can we get general headcanons for a scenario where obey me MC attending their sister's wedding and their sister is MC from mystic messenger 😳😳 I just think it'd be so funny for them to meet each other lmaooo and can mystic messenger MC be getting married to saeyoung ❤️ I love your blog btw you have some cute stuff 😭

mystic messenger x obey me simp nation RISE

ah yes i have been itching to get my hands on this request haha and thank you!! BUT OMG HAVE YOU BEEN IN MY BRAIN? BC OKAY SO LIKE TO FALL ASLEEP I ALWAYS NEED TO HAVE A SCENARIO PLAYING IN MY HEAD AND THIS WAS ONE OF THE SCENARIOS I HAD ONE TIME CJZMNDMSM i dont have an irl crush so all my romantic imaginations consist of the mystic messenger and obey me bois 😌💅🏻

Mystic Messenger MC is Obey Me! MC's sister and she invites the OM MC as well as the demon brothers to her and Saeyoung's wedding!!

(for the sake of lessening confusion, y/n is YOU and mc is the mystic messenger mc (and you can pretend it's you too or an oc i dunno) so let ur imagination run wild!!)

it's also assumed that y/n has already met the rfa, and y/n and mc do not have any other family members. but for some reason i picture that the reception count is large idk maybe all the mystic messenger characters have/made 20 mutual friends each djsksnjs just pretend the reception room is full 😭

also includes one or two spoilers for another story and the main plot for om!

this is long as hell btw dsjkskdjkjd but i separated it into parts + bolded stuff so hopefully it’s not as messy ! enjoy !

when y/n first got news of their sister's engagement, they talked everyone's ears off for WEEKS.

luckily diavolo was like you know what you can go if you take the brothers with you!!!

y/n was scared at first mainly bc um they are demons? and sometimes they act like 7 year olds? but ur like aight bet let's do this!!!!

time skip 2 the day of the wedding

(if ur a gal) y/n's sister made her the maid of honor

(if ur a mans) y/n will be the person walking mc down the aisle

so y/n had to be there fairly early to help with everything as well as get ready for the ceremony and reception

the entire 2nd floor of the nearest hotel to the wedding venue was rented out thanks to jumin !

the brothers took up a total of 2 rooms...lucifer, mammon, and asmo to one room / satan, beel, belphie, and levi to another

lucifer needed to be with mammon and asmo and practically kept them on an invisible leash considering that they have pretty bad self restraint in terms of their sin

but jumin also had to pull some strings to get the ceremony at a space station...hip hip hooray

the station said it was strictly only immediate family though, so the ceremony was just mc, saeyoung, y/n, jaehee (only bridesmaid/maid of honor if y/n is a boy), saeran, yoosung, jumin, zen, and v

saeyoung is in awe as he watches mc walk down the aisle...hes dreamed of this moment his entire life!

who would have known they'd actually manage to get married in a space station?? :')

after saying their vows, mc and saeyoung kissy kiss and all is HAPPY

idk how weddings work in terms of scheduling so let us simply time skip to the reception

the brothers pull up skrrt earlier than most guests but they arent the first ones to arrive

cue mammon, levi, and asmo arguing over where y/n should sit

satan interrupts and clarifies that y/n will be sitting at the head table with their sister. they r salty

oKAY UHHH time to start the reception!!

y/n and zen duetting???? beauty and the beast????? as they escort mc and saeyoung in for their slow dance???? YES PLEASE

like in the style of ariana grande and john legend

when the brothers see y/n as they sing the first line of the song they ! almost ! combust !

mc and saeyoung slow dance to the song and everyone has tears in their eyes. yoosung is crying into saeran's arms as saeran holds back tears. jaehee is crying bc she and y/n coordinated the entire thing and shes happy but also feeling stressed.

dinner is buffet style, and lucifer's attention and energy is now directed toward beel. this is a formal human event and not one of diavolo's parties where people are used to him hogging everything down...

but y/n was smart enough to help get the brothers' table to be seated next to the buffet so after all the other tables get their food beel could secretly go ham

the first interaction between rfa and the brothers happen between lucifer and v

v could see that lucifer was kinda struggling and decided to check in on him before checking in on the other guests

they end up talking a lot. mostly about how they both lied to their respective squads to try to protect them from the truth

lucifer of course tones the story down and doesnt give away that they r demons, though

y/n saw levi all pissy alone at the table so they grabbed yoosung and introduced him to levi. they were awkward at first but once yoosung mentioned LOLOL levi was all ears and they bonded over different games

y/n stays a bit to make sure levi doesnt reveal anything sus

meanwhile, asmo is flirting with zen. complimenting his singing from earlier as well as his rat tail

zen mentions that asmo's skin is glistening and the two of them go crazy over different skincare brands

asmo may or may not have accidentally said that he uses a lamb blood and aloe vera mixture yes i just made that up which confused zen but zen's reaction further confused asmo until asmo remembered !! im in the human world

so he played it off as a joke and told zen that he shouldnt furrow his eyebrows much otherwise he'll wrinkle quicker

as saeran walks to the ice cream station next to the buffet he sees beel holding an entire tray of fish with a suspicious looking belphie standing next to him

when belphie and saeran lock eyes the energy in that corner of the room turns so dark that you could see storm clouds forming over them : ◉ ∧ ◉ : ╏

anyway jaehee, like v, was checking in with the guests when she spots mammon investigating a gold doorknob

mammon nearly shits himself when jaehee taps him on the back and asks him if he is okay

satan compliments elizabeth the third when he sees jumin petting her on the balcony. they talk about cats for a while and jumin tells satan that he enjoys the company of another man elizabeth deems worthy to be in her presence

by the end of the night

everyone is helping with cleaning up the ballroom after all the other guests have gone

jumin thinks that beel is cool, since he ate all the food provided as well as the mochi party favors

mammon volunteers to take home all of the extra centerpieces and decorations. before lucifer says no, mc and seven tell mammon hes more than welcome to take them all home. it would just sit in their house and collect dust, anyway

when everyone is back in their hotel room (y/n stays with jaehee for the night so mc and saeyoung can get it on) yoosung invites levi to play some games with him in his room

zen shares a room with yoosung and eagerly watches the two boys playing

asmo needs to follow his sleeping schedule so he peacefully goes to sleep while dreaming of not-so-appropriate things. he’ll be back on his bullshit tomorrow

lucifer is trying to help mammon figure out a way to organize all the freebies he got to prevent all of it from falling everywhere when they go back to devildom. he also sets a centerpiece aside for diavolo to keep. cute!

belphie is knocked out and so is beel (food coma)

satan stays with jumin for a bit, wanting to be around elizabeth the third a bit longer, then returns to his room around 2am. he sees that levi isn’t back in the room and texts for him to return soon.

bonus!

mc and saeyoung are <3333333′ing

unfortunately y/n and jaehee can hear it, as well as v since their rooms sandwich mc and saeyoung’s

[927roses-and-stuff]

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter Six: The Calm Before

Thank you to @ozmav for the Maribat AU and @mystery-5-5 for helping me out loads with the story! 

I was supposed to update every day starting December 11, but I was busy with the holidays so I couldn’t and then I had a really shit sleep schedule. Basically, I’m super sorry and this is me attempting to make it up to you guys. 

Also, some people keep bringing up that Marinette could just use Kaalki to go from Gotham to Paris, so I’m going to take this chapter as a chance to explain why that isn’t.

Also, this chapter will be super long because I’m trying to get the gang in Gotham by Chapter 10 at the latest. 

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: : @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn

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Dear Diary, 

Sass’ story was...informative in some ways. In some ways, I see myself in Alfred Pennyworth. I can’t imagine not having the Ladybug Miraculous or Tikki in my life but unlike Alfred there are days where I want to quit and leave it all for someone else, someone older, wiser, better, to fix.

But, there’s just me. Just Marinette. 

I’m thinking of  going to Gotham to see if Alfred Pennyworth has acquired anything worthwhile after his time with the Snake Miraculous. At least Papa and Maman will be happy I’m going.

I’ll have to speak with Chat first. After all, this decision affects him too, and he’ll need to know why I’m not arriving on patrols or akuma attacks. It’s times like these where I wish I could just pop open the box and call on Kaalki, but it’s not possible for now. Either I get the tablet from Hawkmoth or I learn how to read the Journal myself to open the stupid box. Hawkmoth really is the root of my problems, huh? 

I should get going now. It’s about time for my patrol. 

Wish me luck! 

Bisoux, 

Marinette

Later that night, Ladybug found herself again on top of the Eiffel Tower, this time without the threat of falling over the edge. She watched the darkening skyline for the sight of her partner, half hoping he’d show up sooner, half hoping he wouldn’t show up at all. She had called him earlier for an impromptu meeting, and he had mentioned that he also had something to tell her. 

Whatever it was, she had a feeling that she wouldn't exactly be happy with it.

In her lap sat the rather large spotted egg that was supposed to be the Miraculous Box. In the cloth shoulder bag beside her contained the rest of the active Miraculous. The other kwami were currently flying around enjoying the fresh Parisian air. She wasn’t too sure why she had brought them in the first place. It had been a hassle to travel with them (since the egg didn’t fit in her yoyo and the bag took a while to adjust to), but maybe it was time to take Chat’s words into consideration and start trusting him with the Guardian side of the Miraculous a bit more. 

Especially with what she was planning to do. 

“Do you think you and Chat will be able to open it, Master?” Sass asked, floating in front of her face. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe we could with Cataclysm, but that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.” 

“Rightly so!” Longg huffed. “We do not know the consequences for the other kwamis if you plan to turn the Box into ashes. Think of all the other kwamis that are trapped in there! It would be reckless to do so even if Tikki’s power could reverse the effects of Plagg’s.” 

Pollen sighed and floated on top of the box, lying down and patting it with her small arms. “My poor comrades. I know how hard it is to be stuck on the other side, but have patience, my friends.”

Ladybug frowned. “Is it really so bad?” 

Wayzz joined Pollen on the box. “We’re isolated from the world in that space, without a notion of time passing as humans would. It gets lonely, even if we all have each other,” he explained. 

“That’s horrible,” Ladybug whispered. She watched as Sass, Longg, and Trixx joined the other two on the Box. She never really thought about how stressful this must’ve been for the kwamis whose only companions were each other. They were cut off without means of communicating from one side of the other. Her chest tightened at the sight of them and she found herself retreating to the now all too familiar spiral of  deprecating notions.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a deep howl ringing through the night sky. She looked up to find Chat Noir catapulting himself into the sky with his baton, doing a few flips before coming back down and doing it all over again, each time more ridiculous and flamboyant than the last. By the time he reached the Eiffel Tower, he was panting, although he grinned widely at Ladybug’s applause. 

“Even better than last time, Chat,” she remarked, adjusting the bag to allow Chat a place to sit. ���Have you been practicing lately?” 

Chat retracted his baton and sat down with a graceful flourish. “Why of course, my Lady. All the better to please you.” 

Ladybug rolled her eyes fondly and elbowed him. “Chat.”

“And by please you, I mean as friends of course!” Chat exclaimed, holding his hand up. “Chaton’s honour.” 

Ladybug giggled. “Well, if that’s the case, consider me pleased.” She sighed and shifted to face him. “Time for business.” 

“And what’s this you got here, bug?” He asked, craning his head to observe the spotted egg and the kwami all over. “Did my Ladybird lay an egg while I was gone?” 

Ladybug huffed. “This egg is the Miracle Box I told you about.” 

Chat lifted his head to meet her eyes. “No. Really?” 

“Yes, really. Why?” 

Chat reached out to pet the kwami with his fingers. “Well, it’s definitely marketable, if you’re into that sort of thing.” 

Ladybug scoffed. “If it was so marketable, it’d open without any trouble.” She sighed. “This isn’t really why I called you here but do you have any ideas what we could do to open it?” 

Chat contemplated the Box, his finger and thumb playing with his chin like he had an invisible goatee. “I could try to use Cataclysm and you can use Miraculous Ladybug to bring it back?” 

“The kwami were just talking about that. We can’t risk hurting the kwami.” Ladybug furrowed her eyebrows. “Wait, maybe Lucky Charm…?” 

“You think it’ll work?”

“Either way it’ll be lucky,” she said before handing the box and bag to Chat and standing up.

“Lucky Charm!”

A red and black spotted bone popped out of thin air and into Ladybug’s hands. At first glance it seemed like an actual bone, but it was soft and plush to the touch. 

Ladybug wrinkled her nose. “A chew toy?” 

Chat struggled to refrain from laughing. “Got a little doggie you’re hiding from me, my Lady?” He mimed fainting, his hand clutching at his heart dramatically. “Oh, the betrayal, Ladybug! How could you replace me with a dog?” 

Chat’s dramatics continued while Ladybug analyzed the chew toy. It was slightly larger than her palm, and always reverted back to its original state despite Ladybug squishing, twisting, and almost ripping it apart. After a while, she called for the kwami and Chat, ignoring the latter’s spiel. 

“Barkk’s the dog miraculous...would she be able to sense the chew toy and phase out of there?” Ladybug looked up to see that the kwami and Chat were looking at her stunned.. “Oh, what?” I’m  trying,” she huffed. 

Trixx laughed and floated over to the lucky charm to inspect it themselves. “Remember to look underneath the underneath, O dear Guardian. The one thing Tikki and I have in common is that with us, everything is not what it seems. Maybe you’ll require a dog in the future, or maybe dogs will be irrelevant in the scenario.” 

Ladybug huffed. “Thanks for the insight, Trixx. Helpful as always.” Trixx merely giggled and gave her a wink. Trixx was often a delight to have around, mostly because they helped Marinette with her plans and schemes, but they were also often vague to the point of nonsense. 

“Let’s see if being Mister Bug has taught me anything about Lucky Charms, my Lady,” Chat said, trading the chew toy for the Miracle Box. He held it up and played with it. “Supple, really soft but really sturdy. Maybe it could be a door stopper? Or we could tie it onto the Miracle Box and drop it from the Eiffel Tower and the force, upon hitting the chew toy will not only cushion the fall, but pop the box open.” 

“Uh, physics might not be my greatest subject, chaton, but I don’t think that’s how it works. Like, at all,” Ladybug said, following behind Chat as he trailed along the beam. 

“Right you are, but a lot of your normal plans usually defy the laws of physics so who knows?” Chat turned around to grin at her. 

Ladybug pursed her lips. “I mean, I guess we could try, but not from the Eiffel Tower.” Ladybug adjusted the box in her hands and shoved to bag over Chat’s shoulders. “Meet me at the Louvre and don’t drop the bag. The kwami’s miraculous are in there.”

“Aye, aye, my Lady.” 

With that, both heroes headed to the Louvre to test Chat’s theory. Needless to say, it didn’t work. It had ended with the Miracle Box falling on top of M. Kubdel’s head as he was heading out of the museum (thankfully,  it had fallen where the chew toy had been). This incident led to M. Kubdel yelling at Ladybug and Chat Noir who couldn’t convince him that they were in fact, the actual heroes doing Official Superhero Business. That then turned into a chase of cat and mouse between Ladybug and Chat, and M. Kubdel because he had been convinced that the Miracle Box would make a great exhibit in the museum and would’ve gotten away with it if Chat hadn’t used his baton to shove the Miracle Box out of his arms, and Ladybug using the yoyo string to trip M. Kubdel. Ladybug had to swoop in quickly and save him from falling on his face while Chat chased after the Box to prevent potential damage. By the end of it all, an irate Ladybug and a sheepish Chat Noir scurried back  to the Eiffel Tower before any curious civilians could follow them and see their antics. Or before M. Kubdel could gather up the guts to run off with the Miracle Box again. The kwamis flew behind the two heroes, their tiny laughter echoing behind them. 

Ladybug let out a heavy sigh. “Well, that was a bust.”

“It was...interesting,” Chat said, although he winced  at Ladybug’s tired eyes  bore through him. “Okay, well it could’ve been worse.” 

“M. Kubdel basically chased us off of the museum grounds, Chat,”she deadpanned. “And then he tried to steal the Box.” 

Chat winced again. “Okay, yeah it definitely could’ve gone so much better.” Chat chanced smiling at Ladybug. “You’ve got to admit, it was a little bit fun. “

Ladybug breathed in, before breaking out into a small smile. “Okay, it was a little bit fun.” A moment of silence passed before the two teens fell into rambunctious laughter, leaning into each other to keep their balance. It took a few moments for them to calm down and regain their bearings. 

“We’re so gonna have to apologize to M. Kubdel when we next see him,” Ladybug managed to say in between chuckles. 

Chat scoffed playfully. “Of course, my Lady. We are outstanding, proper citizens, after all,” he said in a voice that was more posh than his regular voice. 

“Okay, okay. Back to business, chaton,” Ladybug said, squaring her shoulders and tightening her grip on the Miracle Box. Chat adjusted the shoulder bag on his shoulder and turned to face her. 

“What’s up, bug?” 

She breathed in deeply. Before she could say anything about what she wanted to tell Chat, she remembered that he also had something he wanted to tell her. “You first, chaton. What’s up?” 

It was almost comical the way Chat straightened his posture with wide eyes and avoided Ladybug’s gaze. Ladybug pitched the bridge of her nose. What the hell did her partner do now? 

“Chat…,”

Chat held out the chew toy  in front of him to provide some cover and space between himself and the spotted heroine. “So, do you remember that thing we talked about the other night? With the Justice League?”

Ladybug slowly nodded, already starting to connect the dots. 

“So, I may have-”

“So, you may have?”

“Yes, I may have, let me finish, Ladybug!” Chat exclaimed before shifting his stance. “Anyways, I may have emailed them that same night…,” he trailed off. 

Ladybug froze. “You mean that same night I told you why it was a bad idea to do so? And you agreed to drop it?”

Chat interrupted her before she could continue. “Hold on, I didn’t necessarily agree to drop it. Look, just listen to what I have to say first, oui?” 

Ladybug sighed. “Fine.” 

“RIght. Anyways, I did contact them, but not to help us here, but for advice. Since you know, we haven’t really made any progress with finding out who Hawkmoth actually is. Maybe they have some insight.” 

Ladybug huffed. There was a part of her that wanted to scream at Chat Noir, remind him about the risks and why they hadn’t done so before, and how they didn’t help before, but she simply relaxed her shoulders. “Sit down, chaton. I’m not gonna do anything to you.” 

Chat’s eyes shifted from the empty spot beside her to her. “You sure?” 

She nodded. “I’m not going to liee, I’m really pissed that you went behind my back like that, but it’s done. Besides, you’re definitely right that we need help and you’re not the only one who went around looking for help.” She looked around and called out, “Sass!” 

“I’m sorry by the way. If it helps, I only got the automatic reply so far,” Chat said, patting Ladybug’s shoulder. 

“Thanks, chaton.” When Sass flew to both of them, she continued. “I asked Marianne if she knew anything about the Miraculous, and she mentioned a guy named Alfred Pennyworth who was the Snake Miraculous user before Viperion.” 

“Hey, Sass,” Chat greeted, giving the kwami a tiny high five. “Then what’s so important about this Alfred Pennyworth?” 

“He was close with Master Fu during World War Two and held onto the Snake Miraculous the longest. Sass mentioned that Alfred had plans on researching the Miraculous after his time in service. I’m planning on seeking him out for information, but, here’s the part you’re not going to like.” 

Chat tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Ladybug gulped. “I’m planning to seek him out, but he lives abroad somewhere in the Americas.” 

Ladybug let the information sink in as Chat’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Marinette had contemplated telling Chat where exactly in America she would be, but decided not to risk him making the connection between her trip and the akuma class’ excursion to Gotham. 

“But the akumas-” Before Chat could continue, Ladybug interrupted him. 

“I will be going abroad, but Ladybug isn’t.” She played with her fingers before continuing. “I will be taking the Miracle Box and Sass with me, but I’m leaving Tikki behind with one of the other users.” 

“Isn’t that a risk to their identity, though?” Chat asked, scratching his head. “I mean, it looks like you’ve thought it all out but don’t you think you need more time before-” 

“I have a week before I go,” Ladybug interjected. “I talked to Tikki and she can make it so the new Ladybug owner looks completely unrecognizable from their previous hero identity. I’ll have to train them in the next week to the best of my ability.”

“Why can’t you just take the Horse Miraculous with you?” Chat asked. 

Ladybug simply held up the locked Miracle Box and shaked it a bit. Chat’s lips formed an ‘O’ in understanding. Ladybug nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I know. It sucks major ass.”  

Chat gulped. “I,” he sighed. “Is there any way that any of the other heros can fill in my spot too?”

Ladybug blinked in surprise. “You’re going out of the city too?” 

“Yeah. My class has a class trip in Gotham and my attendance is mandatory,” he explained. Ladybug tried to forget the unnecessary parts of what he said. Despite the fact that Ladybug often scolded him for it, Chat Noir was still more lax about revealing personal details.  It took her a second to fully process what he said. 

“Gotham?” She squeaked. “Your class is taking a trip to Gotham? As in the Gotham trip that Mme. Bustier’s class is taking?” Ladybug’s eyes were the size of saucers and she had shifted so closely to him, they were practically nose-to-nose. Chat seemed to realize his mistake because his eyes widened and his breath hitched as he backed away from Ladybug, his tail swinging wildly behind him. 

“I, I mean Georgia! Like the state, Georgia!” 

Ladybug backed down, her eyebrows furrowed. She knew he was lying, but it was probably better to dismiss it. There was no way Chat Noir had been in her class this entire time. And even if he was, Chat’s identity was so not her priority right now. She cleared her throat. 

“Right! Heard they had great beaches this time of year,” Ladybug blurted out, not really sure of what she was saying, but it seemed to calm Chat down, so she didn’t really care. 

“Yep. Great academic stuff too like...aquariums…,” Chat trailed off, pursing his lips and looking like he swallowed a lemon. 

“Right! Well, we can probably get the others a user to cover for you, if you already have someone in mind,” Ladybug said very quickly, still trying to get her mind off of the fact that Chat was going to be in Gotham the same time she was what the fuc-

“Uh, yeah.” Chat looked away bashfully, his cheeks reddening. “I was thinking of asking Kagami Tsurugi. She was Ryuko before so she’ll be used to the Miraculous.” 

Ladybug nodded. “Sass, can you call the other kwami over here, please?” 

“Yesss, my Guardian.” With that, Sass flew off and returned with the other kwamis. 

“Change of plans, guys,” she said, addressing them each with a subtle nod. “Chat’s going abroad as well so we need to use one of your Miraculous as well. Is there any kwami willing?” 

Wayzz floated forward. “Who will be the recipient?” 

“Kagami Tsurugi,” Chat said. Without saying a word, Longg shook her head and bowed out. She felt a bit sad that Ryuko couldn’t become active on the field without risking her identity. In her stead, Pollen floated forward determinedly. 

“My Guardian, I believe my Venom will be most useful for this mission,” she chirped. Ladybug turned toward Chat. 

He nodded. “I think that’d be ideal. Kagami’s very...straightforward.”

She nudged him. “You know her well, then huh, chaton?” she teased, raising her eyebrow at him. 

His cheeks darkened and shoved her back playfully. “As if you don’t have your own boy toy running around, my Lady.” 

Ladybug snorted. “I don’t have a boy toy, chaton. I’m too busy for all of that anyways,” she huffed. 

“Not even for the guy you have feelings for?” he winked. 

She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I think I’m ready to get over him, honestly. Not jealous, are you, chaton?” 

Chat smiled lazily. “I think I got the message by now, my Lady. I’m not going to wait for you if you don’t want me there.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. She knew Chat had feelings for her, but since she could never really reciprocate, she was happy he was moving on. “Anyways, you’ll be giving Kagami the Bee Miraculous tomorrow and we’ll help her get used to her new powers over the next week.” 

Chat nodded. “By the way, Ladybug. Who did you choose to be the new bug?” 

She smiled softly. “Luka Couffaine.” 

His eyes widened. “Are you sure?” 

She nodded. “He’s been through numerous resets and has helped me out in the ones I could remember, so he would be the most familiar with my tactics and how the Lucky Charms work.” 

“Makes sense,” Chat mused. He turned toward her with a face-splitting grin and held his fist out. 

“Pound it?” 

Ladybug smiled and copied his motions. 

“Pound it.”

[monggu-eomma]

Found

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt: sun and moon

Warnings: None

Summary: Everyone was born with a red string of fate bestowed by the gods, except for you. At first it seemed unfair to be left without a soulmate, but you eventually came to terms with the cards that you had been dealt. Even if you didn’t have a soulmate, you could still love. 

Author’s Note: I wasn’t expecting to write this, but life has a funny way of doing things. It hasn’t been easy to write lately because I am too consumed by Haikyuu and I’ve been in this really weird funk that I don’t know how to get through. This scenario is for the BGW Bingo Bash and I can now proudly proclaim “bingo!” © Found is copyright monggu-eomma. Do not re-post, modify, and/or translate this piece of writing without my permission. 

“You know, you’re so lucky Hobi,” you said as you leaned your shoulder against your best friend’s shoulder. You sat together on the couch in his living room, mindlessly watching whatever was playing on the tv. 

“And why am I so lucky?” He asked, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Because you have a string,” you replied. Although you couldn’t see the red string wrapped around his left ring finger, you were still envious of what he had. 

Hoseok was taken aback by your sudden statement. He rarely spoke to you about the red string of fate, as it was a sore subject for you. He could count on one hand the number of times that you had spoken to him about it and every conversation concerning the matter left you with tears welling in your eyes. You had always reassured him that you had accepted your fate, but Hoseok could see with each reassurance that you uttered that you were hurting. “They are so lucky to have you.” 

“I guess,” Hobi replied and you were surprised, to say the least, by Hoseok’s indifference. “I’m not sure if they would be happy to have found me whenever we find each other,” Hoseok confessed. Hoseok had never shown a lot of enthusiasm for his soulmate and you figured that it was because he didn’t want to brag about having a soulmate. The lack of a red thread around your finger was a sore subject for you and Hoseok’s confession made you realize that you weren’t only one who struggled with the red string of fate. 

Wrapping both of your hands around Hoseok’s right hand, you looked into his eyes. “You are amazing, Hobi. One day your string is going to lead you to your soulmate and I know that they will be happy and grateful to have you in their life. I may not have a string, but every day I am thankful because I have you.” 

Tears gathered in Hoseok’s eyes at your words as he hugged you tightly. “I love you,” he mumbled with his lips against your hair. 

“I love you, too,” you said in reply. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Hoseok to express your love for each other. You had known Hoseok for so long and it was only natural for you to love each other, even if it wasn’t the kind of love that was bound by the red string of fate. 

After breaking away from the hug, you looked at your phone to check the time and sighed. “It’s late. I need to go home. I have a long day at work tomorrow,” you said with regret in your voice. 

Hoseok nodded his head and smiled. “Text me when you get back home, so that I know you made it back safely,” he said. 

“Of course!” You replied. Before you could stand up, Hoseok took your hand in his and pressed his lips against your forehead. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

You wanted to say that you should be the one thanking him for always being there for you and for being your friend, but you kept those thoughts to yourself. Instead you stood up and smiled at him. “I’m always here for you.” 

As you made your way home, you thought only of Hoseok. He was such an amazing person and you couldn’t imagine your life without him. Although you had always known that one day that your friendship with him would diminish when he found his soulmate, you had long since decided that you were going to make the best of your time with him. The gods had left you to your own devices and it was up to you to make the best of your situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bringing your coat closer to your body, you waited at the bus station for the bus to come. It was a particularly cold Autumn night, the light from the full moon doing nothing to provide warmth. A cold shiver ran down your spin as a harsh cold wind blew orange and red leaves on the street. It had been a very long day at work and you were looking forward to coming home and making yourself a nice cup of tea to warm and calm your nerves.

As you waited for the bus to come, your thoughts drifted to your grandmother and the stories that she used to tell you. The story of the red string of fate stood out to you, especially since you had spoken about the red string of fate with Hoseok the previous night. The story spoke of the ancient Chinese gods tying an invisible red string around the fingers of those who were destined to meet each other in a certain situation or help each other in a certain way. The ancient deity that was in charge of the red string was said to be Yue Lao, the lunar matchmaker god. Your grandmother told you that the two people connected by the red string were destined to be lovers and partners for all of eternity, regardless of circumstances. She also told you that this red thread is what had brought your grandparents together and subsequently, your parents together. Although the story of the red string was supposed to excite you, it always left you feeling hopeless and alienated. You had never seen the red string of fate and you were certain that you would walk this life in loneliness. The lack of a red string had you feeling as though you were walking an interminable night. 

The screeching of a large blue bus pulling in front of the bus stop brought you out of your lamentation. You quickly walked into the bus, scanning your bus pass and quickly scouting for a seat. Relief washed over you when you saw an unoccupied window seat and you walked over to claim that seat as yours. It was a nuisance, but you got car sick easily and you needed to sit, or stand, by a window whenever you were in a moving vehicle. Once you sat down, you pulled out your phone and earbuds to listen to music. You set the music setting on shuffle and let your playlist randomly choose songs for you to listen to. After the music started to play, you decided to scroll through your social media accounts on your phone and see what you had missed while you were at work. Your body jolted forward as the bus made another stop. The jolt was unexpected, especially considering that the bus had come to a gentle stop. As you pushed yourself upright, you noticed a red string tied around the ring finger of your left hand. 

It can’t be, you thought to yourself. This must be a joke. 

With gentle care, you touched the string to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. The thread felt soft and light. The string was even more beautiful as it was illuminated by light from the Moon. With a gentle tug on the string, you looked to see where it would lead to. Your gaze followed the whereabouts of the string, finding that it led to the front of the bus and that the string continued out of the bus. The tension of the red thread felt tight. It was now or never. 

Quickly, with a sense of unspeakable urgency, you pressed one of the many buttons found in the bus to signal to the bus driver that you needed to get off the bus. You stashed your phone and earbuds back into your purse and swiftly exited the bus once it came to a full stop. Your gaze focused solely on the red string tied to your finger and you followed its path without giving any care to your surroundings. You had spent a long time telling yourself that you had accepted the gods leaving with you alone, but that lie held no truth to it. 

With every step that you took, you tugged the red string towards your body as if to tell your soulmate, “Please, find me.” 

You were so caught up in the stressful excitement of the idea of meeting your soulmate that you had failed to notice that you were about to bump into someone. 

Oomph. 

Looking up from the red thread that was connected to the person that you had bumped into, you found yourself briefly looking at their back. They quickly turned around to apologize, but the apology was caught in their throat as you tugged at the red string on your finger with enough force to bring your soulmate closer to you. He placed his hands on your waist, as he had done countless times before, and stared at you in awe. His smile was bright and reminded you of home. How could you have not seen this before? Looking back at your time with him, the signs had been so obvious. The countless late nights, the way your hand always seemed to find his, the whispered I-love-you’s. It all made sense. 

The quiet moon that had plagued your life had been out-shined by a bright and warm sun for longer than you had realized. With or without the red string of fate, there was no doubt in your mind that you loved him. 

“You found me,” Hobi smiled at you.