#every time we r on call he says the most insane things so casually. what do u MEAN u want a ceiling fan on ur front porch

[nataliewaitegf]

“we should normalize putting ceiling fans outside” - @leafteas just now

[streaming-yn]

(☁️)

HIIII it's 3 am and i'm trying to sleep but brain went brr with ideas n shit and oh well- thing is ; i was wondering if i could make my first request? (smth simple if u want to, no need to be very long or anything + pls don't rush nd take ur time AND don't feel pressured to actually do my request :] ! ) maybe smth ab faceless art streamer! y/n [they/them]?? (if u could add that the reader is like an indie game dev or works for smth like that u'd be sosososososo cool omg) with maybe quackity, tommy, dream, ranboo, niki and/or jack?? idk brain did the storming and its all messy hsdnshhfjsjz (btw! i know it's a lot of CCs so feel free to remove some or do the ones ur only comfy with !!! take care nd stay safe !!! luv ya <3 (/p))

AS SOMEONE WHO LIKES TO GAME DESIGN, CHARACTER, AND PLOT DESIGN YOU BET I CAN MAKE THE READER AND INDIE GAME DEV (and aaaa ty for adding jack!!! I think he's really neat and not enough people acknowledge him :))!!)

Multiple x indie game dev!artist!y/n

pairings: quackity, tommy, dream, ranboo, niki, jack manifold (separate) x indie game dev!artist!y/n

pronouns: they/them

other information on the reader:

. faceless

. knows how to code

. artist

. streams them drawing video game characters

. minor

. makes indie / horror games

form: headcanons

genre: platonic, fluff(??)

warnings: horror games / horror mods, ranboo enderwalk lore in his section

abbreviations: y/n -> your name

quackity

okay let's get the obvious out of the way; definitely going to be the type of person that's like "I'm going to play this game first after you're finished" yk? playfully ofc, n playfully fight with anyone who says the same thing (*cough* Wilbur, tommy, dream *cough*)

he probably wouldn't be on your art streams often – he doesn't really enjoy watching people draw, but he would want to see the finished pics

he would happily be on voice chat with you while you're drawing though!! :D

would be proud to answer any questions you have about character / scene / etc designs!!

"quackity!! so for this character – check your dms for a current picture – would red or purple antenna be better? also, two or four antenna?"

"*gasp* you're asking me?? 🥺" /j

"y'know what, nevermind, chat wh-"

"NO WAIT WAIT"

"so what do you think?"

also, if you do end up sending him the finished pics of the art he will hype you tf up !!!!

would try to get you make joke games – not like actually, it's just an ongoing bit between you two!

if you make a game for him – or give him a sneak peek of a game before anyone else he's going to freak out!! and he won't really know what to say bc putting feelings into words is hard

if y'all ever meet up and you're fine w hugs he's gonna give you a huge hug, hoping that makes up for the lack of words to describe how just,, proud of you he is bc he really really is!!

you're not even in your 20s yet and you can make video games, or help with them?? not to mention how creative you are with the characters and story line??? he's amazed by you

might actually cry /pos if you base a character off of him

like let's say a part of a puzzle is to get a rubber duck and place it into a pond to get the next hint or thing you need – only when he plays it on stream, he doesn't know anything about the game, so you're watching and waiting for him to get there

when he does get there – he finds out the duck has a beanie and has a white ring appear around it that flashes to life before fading out after picking it up, signifying it was the right thing to get

at first he doesn't really notice the ring, "oh! that animation is different than normal" he notes, but mainly focuses on the beanie, comparing it to himself before he glances at chat to see them freaking out over the planet duck reference

then he's just talking about it, shocked of course but flattered, and then you type in chat "you helped me a ton with things I couldn't decide during this game, I couldn't not add you! :)" everyone's just :(((( !!! /pos

overall supportive n proud, maybe a bit loud about games in progress, but just a really nice guy in general :)

tommy

he is ABSOLUTELY loud about your games in progress!! if you don't want something said you have to tell that to him before telling him or else he's going to brag about how cool it is the next time he streams

"chat!! chat, y/n is making this new game and they told me that one of the outfits you can collect for the player is going to be based off me!- right!! that sounds pog!!"

if he ever accidentally let's anything slip on stream that he was supposed to say, everyone who's a fan of you is just like "wow! suddenly! I cannot hear anymore!", sometimes they're like that even if it was okay to say

the just like being surprised :)

as for art streams, he'll try his best to tune in but obviously won't be there all the time! he's usually very active in chat too! likes being on call with you while you do art streams if you let him!

he once convinced you to make a texture pack and a shader (meant for both to be active at the same time), the fans loved it and a lot of them use it more often than the original!!

tommy however, not to much, proud of you bc that must've been a ton of work!! but at some time it slipped his mind that you make indie and horror games; I think we all know he doesn't do well with horror games

so you liking horror and such made the textures look more ominous and just make it look like and area you don't want to be in, and the spook goes up even more with the shader!! it's darker than usual, there's unusual fog, the portals look too dangerous now, so on and so forth yk

so,, tommy didn't use the texture pack for long;;

if you ever raid him after you're done streaming and he has a question, he's literally just gonna ask you on stream

"y/n raid? oh! are they still here?" when you confirm you're in chat, he continues "great! okay I had a question about your new game that's going to be available soon and how to download it-"

fans love how casual you guys are about game information, like you had to teach him how to export a game character he made on the website you usually make yours on (it was for a fun stream) and it was just a simple back and forth but everyone's like omg :((( omg them :((

also if you're the type of person to go insane over tiny details in other games, he will absolutely tease you for it

like you can just be going on and on about how this game had a sentence at the start that had a backhanded meaning by the end and he's just gonna call you a nerd (genuinely thinks is cool how much of the small things you notice in games though)

dream

COMPLAINING ABOUT CODING AND HOW HARD IT IS 🤝🤝

and if you took other coding classes hoping that I'd help with video game coding he'd just listen to you talk about it

"I actually took robotics for a while before because the school didn't have any video game coding classes and I was hoping it'd help either way" "oh?" "it,, it didn't help, it's so hard to code robots and considering how fast I caught onto video game code you think it'd be easier to understand the robot code" "yeah, that sounds reasonable" "NOPE,, WHY R THEY SO DIFFERENT I ALMOST FAILED" "D:"

fanartists like those moments, if one of those talks happen expect a bit of fanart of just dream and you chilling while you talk and he listens, the art always gives off comfy vibes n it's just cute :)

offering him to play a semi-rough draft of the demo so that he could see if it's good or what you needed to do to make it more enticing for the player

power duo fr fr o/

people like comparing y'all to hackers sometimes bc y'all know how to code???

you play into the bit with the fans though and honestly it's so fun !!!

fans: omg,, hackers (affectionate),,,

you next time you stream: hacker voice; I'm in

AND THEY GOT SHOCKED??? LIKE THEY FORGOT YOU CAN SEE THE STUFF THEY POST????

wouldn't be able to watch your art streams for long because he would get side tracked, the streams are just too under stimulating for his brain to focus on, but he'd hang around as long as he could though :)

would be glad to be on call with you while you're doing an art stream – though if he has is game sounds on you may occasionally have to repeat a question that was aimed at him

you're also in his streams when you can :)

also, you like sending donations to communicate rather than chat

one stream dream turned off his donos because you wouldn't stop giving him money 💀

being friends with such a popular creator and being a game creator yourself has it's downs as well

nothing thats too hard to deal with – the most common one is actually kinda funny – some people will slide in your dms acting like they're dream and just got locked out of his account, trying to get you to make them a game

like ??? do they think that dream would mssg you over Twitter or insta?? he has your phone number bro ,😭

also!!! when dream plays through new games you made he complements the small things and complements how hard something must've been to code :)

and I'm ngl, he kinda sucks with every game he plays at first but he's a quick learner so dw :)

would be glad to help if you're having a difficult time choosing between things too! except he'll answer right away without any teasing

"dreammm" "y/nnnn" "for this area should I do like shattered stone walls or mossy stone walls like with vines n stuff?" "depends on the vibe you want, shattered stone would give it a dangerous and uneasy undertone and mossy stone would be more of ominous, if that makes sense?" "oh! okay, thank youuu!!"

ofc if you didn't have a specific vibe or couldn't choose which was better he would just give a straight up answer so you didn't stress out trying to choose one \o/

would absolutely like being a guest in a drawing stream, he isn't the best at art or character design but it's fun to see him try

maybe you both plus some friends do a "drawing Minecraft mobs from memory" stream? ,, with that the thing is; his would mostly be relatively accurate if you could understand wtf he was drawing 😭

dream may or may or have some of your art as his phone homescreen, he loves your style so much :(( /pos

ranboo

first off; he's incredibly impressed!! like!!! you made this game?? this playable game, completely from scratch??? how??

also you may or may not have made a small Minecraft mod for him to tryout on stream,, little gift from you to both chat n ranboo 🤲

its literally all based off his lore,, if you get close to obsidian and crying obsidian fallen down from Undertale starts playing, if you splash water on yourself 1) you get hurt 2) your screen blacks out and when it comes back, your in a different place than before, some things art taken, maybe a few extra things are added

and there's a 50% chance that when you go into your "enderwalk" state (the blackout) you blow something up, so there may or may not be an explosion somewhere nearby, you also have a 20% chance of building something small in you enderwalk state :)

he found it so incredibly cool!!! chat was crying while complementing you while ranboo thanked you and complemented you over n over again

he won't shut up about how cool the mod is for several weeks, maybe even a few months, it's just so cool!!

will absolutely use it as a comeback if you let him; "oh? you got first place? well y/n made me a really really cool mod, so who's the actual winner here?"

will absolutely play every single game you come out with – it doesn't matter if it's his style or not – and he thoroughly enjoys all of the games as well

as for art streams, he will absolutely try to tune in every time he can!! active in chat and donos!!

doesn't really like being in art streams – like in call is fine but actually drawing? not really, he just doesn't love drawing in front of a ton of people

but will join an art stream if you ask

will listen to you rant about whatever, even if he doesn't understand it! like will listen to you go on and on about how well a game set up the atmosphere or maybe talking about how difficult coding is, and he'll converse back with you but won't really understand yk?

"ranboo I just played a really cool game do you wanna hear about it?" "yeah yeah- of course!!" "ok so like, the atmosphere was so well put together- like it was a horror game and I didn't even see the monster but the vibe was so well put together that it was still unnerving!!" "that's awesome! how did the atmosphere get set up the best and when you saw the monster, was it scarier?"

yk what I mean? like engages in convo so you don't feel bad about talking so much, plus shows his interest without the constant "hm?" "cool" etc a lot of people do and even though he does talk more than the acknowledgment sounds many people make he also manages to almost never sidetrack you and when he does it's on accident :)

if your way of learning is teaching then he'll gladly be the person you teach it to if you want! most likely won't use the information therefore his brain won't retain it but that's not on you, and the whole reason is so you can learn, not him, so! ^^

will make sure to take care of yourself, and he has a through way of telling if you have or not bc he's known you for long enough to know that even if you try to hide it a little bit of your tired voice shows so he knows if you've been sleeping like you should

also friends with you on discord, where you have your Spotify attached,, you like listening to music while you work on things that aren't sound related and if it's active later than it should be he's going to confront you

overall wholesome mixed in with a little pain bc both of you are like "ah yes, lore <3" and like to see fans cry /lh

niki

I feel like this is expected but if you need to get extra motivation she would probably be your go-to

she hypes you up but like, in a sweet and quiet kinda way, where as everyone else here would probably be relatively loud ;;

honored to be on an art stream if you invite her :')

and would absolutely watch your art streams when she can :D hypes you up in chat

also compliments, tons of compliments!

might call you a prodigy? bc you're so young but can already make games?? and make income off of them?? and do really good art??? and so much more??? like tell me that's not prodigy energy,

if you make a video game character based off her she might cry,, like in a positive way obviously but like at the same time :(( no don't cry!!

I say might bc it's dependant on how she feels that day yk? like she might just have the almost-cry wobble to her voice or she might actually, if that makes sense?

she genuinely loves your art style!! even if it's pointy and kinda creepy she really likes it!!

yk the "awww (name) :(" /pos she does sometimes? 100% does that with you

there are a few compilations of just "aww y/nnn" on YouTube and all the comments on those videos are just crying over y'all /pos

would be happy to help if you're stuck between some options in a game, but would feel kinda bad bc it's your game, you're supposed to be the one choosing the stuff

assure her that it's okay n stuff n she'll be ok tho !

I can't decide if she would play your games or not

bc on one hand she's a huge supporter of you and your work and would like to experience it first hand

but on the other hand she isn't the best with scry games,,

so maybe she'd do both? maybe she'd react on stream to a playthrough, maybe your playthrough? or maybe she would only play some of your games? I haven't decided so up to you I suppose!

jack manifold

genuinely amazed by your talent and will make it quite clear!!

can and will go on tangents about you on stream if someone brings it up

everyone is so :(( <333 /pos bc of it

will play the games you've made as soon as he can

if there are different games that line up in a story he'll make sure to play them in order :)

people also sometimes compare you two to hackers bc you code a ton and he kinda looks like a hacker

difference here is that both of you play into the bit, it's tons of fun!!

listen, I know he doesn't draw much but I am a firm believer that he will doodle his favorite character(s) from your games after he's done playing them

like after he plays a game of yours then expect a small doodle in your texts :)

you compiled a bunch of these doodles into one picture and made it you phone background and he only found out after y'all met irl and it caught the corner of his eye and he registered "oh hey wait that looks familiar"

he found out while recording the vlog n when editing, the editor was like "hey let's leave this in, it'd be funny if the fans knew right?" ,, the fans were crying for two weeks,, /pos

and speaking of drawings; he would like to be on a drawing stream with you, thinks it's be tons of fun!! :D

and he's usually free to call while your streaming and doesn't mind so if you wanna talk to him while drawing just call :)

and he will watch the streams he can make it to!! he may leave a bit early but he stays for the majority of it

if you make a character based off of him he's going to constantly thank you and brag about how cool you are anywhere he can

"hello manifolders, if you haven't done it already go download (game name)! I'm there!" with a ss of his character from the game and he'll reply to the tweet on his alt to talk more about the game and how much he really liked it :)

another that'll help you were you need it! he'll make it into a joke before anything else, but he'll get to the point

taglist (sorry i forgot to do it on the past two): @cvsmixplant // @l0ver0fj0y // @youngstarfishdinosaur

[matan4il]

Lately there have been a lot of freak outs in this fandom and honestly I don't not validate people's anxiety so like I get it. No judgement. But I wanted to put this in the universe to remind the people with higher anxiety. Writers, producers and actors can only talk about where they are at in the moment of the story actually being told right then.

It's the perfect time to reflect that after wrapped in red Oliver's only talking point was .. he will have to deal with out his partner. We were left to ponder 500 situations. But 3 episodes in and we have some of the deepest cuts of Buddie we can get. Heck most straight couples don't get this deep of writing. But back in December would you have thought we had canon Eddie breaking down, Christopher calling Buck and Buck breaking a door down for him?

It's justa good reminder a writer or actor is never gonna be like well when Buddie finally kisses in S6 E4 you will see.

Again not invalidating people's triggers because I get it, just a reminder they dont spoil us and shipping really is a blind leap of faith that you just have to follow your gut on.

Hi Nonnie, thank you so much for this ask! I agree, I’d also add to this that even a second before 413 aired, we would have never been able to imagine the insanity of the good Buddie content we would get in that ep and in 414. Not to mention, sometimes these show runners’ actions directly contradict things they have said in interviews, like saying there’s no need for Buck Begins and then almost the next thing we learn is we’re getting a Buck Begins ep... Generally, their job in interviews is to say whatever they think will best serve their show at that specific moment in time. So it’s always interesting to hear what they have to say, but there’s also no need to accept every word as The Gospel Truth. It’s a fine balance to strike, but I hope we can do that together! :D xoxox

And that brings me to this ask as well...

Girly you really need to see oli’s interview bout todays episode

Awwww, Nonnie! Thank you for thinking of me and including me. I did see he gave interviews, I was not able to read them (my vertigo makes it difficult to read, so I reserve whatever small capacity I have to read for the asks I get). I am grateful whenever someone drops by in my DMs and lets me know the gist of what was said, but I take it from your tone that it’s good stuff? That makes me happy! Hope you have a great day! xoxox

Oh, this might be connected to this ask?

Okay so I know this wasn't in the episode but Oliver said that in a romantic relationship Buck needs a partner and then in the same interview calls Eddie his partner. What on Earth am I supposed to take from that!?

ksadjhfsd Thank you for sending me this, kind Nonnie! This is just a WHOLE thing, isn’t it? First, the clear indication that Oli, who knows Buck so well, sees that Buck does not currently have a partner in his romantic r/s, and secondly the fact that he acknowledges that what he’s missing with Taylor, he’s def getting with Eddie, and the fact that he said it about a romantic r/s specifically, not just in general? OH MY. I mean, Oli has always made it pretty obvious that he loves Buddie as a ship (the fact that he and Ryan were discussing what to name the ship still gets to me), but this is making it damn obvious even to the casual TV viewer who may stumble upon this interview, and I love that for us. Thank you again for sharing, Nonnie! xoxox

(I got an influx of asks, I WILL answer all of them, but it might take a sec. If anyone wants to check whether I've already answered theirs or to read my replies, here's my ask tag. Thank you! xoxox)

[obae-me]

Upside Down CH-1

Author’s Note: Hi, yes, hello, welcome to the fic series that no one asked for! Do I have other things I need to finish? Yes! But has this been the only thing on my mind for the past four days? Also yes! For some reason I was incapable of writing anything else! Thanks, brain, for this out of the blue obsession! 

Tags: Reverse AU

Word Count: 4587

                                                      Next Chapter

Hell Away From Hell

Wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a mistake. It had to be. Although, with every clink of your restraints, your reality was becoming ever clearer. The chains rattled, echoing down the hall like a set of twisted wind chimes. Ones that sung of your dismal fortune. The demon ahead of you yanked the lead attached to your cuffs, sending you stumbling forward. You bit your lip to keep from cursing. Steading your body, you took their less-than-subtle message and picked up the pace. Keeping your eyes glued towards your destination, your stomach sank to your knees. Why? Why had you been brought to the castle? You hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, not anything to warrant being escorted by the palace guards in chains. And as they led you silently inside, past the polished halls and gaudy antiques, your fate pounded just fervently in your mind as your heart was in your chest. 

They were going to present you in front of the prince. 

It was torture in and of itself just making it to the throne room. The worst part about it all was your rampant imagination. You could only imagine what type of horrific techniques the prince was aware of. Halting in front of the large double doors, the demon behind you moved to open the entrance. Holding it open, the guard tugging you along guided you in. You managed to take only a few steps inside the room before you were practically thrown inside, your body tumbling over the ground. Both the guards smirked at you, flashing their pointed fangs in their conceited gestures before shutting the door, leaving you alone inside. 

“MC.” All the air inside your lungs had conveniently escaped. Lifting your chest off the ground, you tightened your lips as you met his gaze. Those glistening emerald eyes pierced right through you. Quickly, you lowered your eyes, attempting to show as much respect as you could to gain his favor. 

“M-my lord.” 

The melodic note that left his throat was a mix between a laugh and a coo. “Now, now, none of that groveling. I had you brought here to ask you a favor!” You could hear him stand to his feet, and you watched his shoes approach, clicking against the marbled tile. Then, you felt the smooth skin of his hand caress your right horn. The sudden sensitive feeling had your tail rapidly twitch and tuck under your leg. He pushed your horns back, raising your chin so you could look up at him. His dark hair drifted down across his forehead, curling around his horns that curved above his head like a broken halo, his face soft and inviting, and yet your gut wouldn’t let you believe it. “Please, from now on, just call me Simeon.” 

Simeon hummed as he lifted his tea cup to his lips. He had been hospitable enough, but you still couldn’t shake this feeling of unease. Plus...what he had brought you in to ask you was...well, something short of insanity. You continued to rub your wrists where your constraints had been. And as much as the prince of hell apologized for his guard’s brutish behavior, you had a feeling it was purposeful. A message of sorts. Even now, as he had his little servant bring in sweets and tea as sickly sweet as it could get, it all tasted bitter to your tongue. “So let me get this straight,” you started. “You want me to be a member of this…” 

The prince tilted his head, eyes practically shining. “Restoration program.” 

You cleared your throat after the little scone this blonde demon had given you made your throat run dry. “R-right. And I’m assuming I don’t have a choice in the matter?” 

His voice was soft, but the light reflecting off his horns and his fangs suggested another answer. “We all have choices, MC.” 

Swallowing your nervousness, you lowered your head again. “But, with all due respect, sir...why? Why a restoration program?” 

Another voice chuckled behind your figure. “Because, why not?” You strained your neck, getting a view at the newcomer behind you. White hair, a mischievous smile, and something unknown swimming at the back of those dark eyes. Not only that, but the figure was wearing clothes as pure as clouds, with a certain glow to him. 

Simeon stood, hand out to greet this person as if they were an old friend-and for all you knew, they might’ve been. “Solomon, how good to see you.” 

The new guest-now known to you as Solomon-beamed. “Likewise. You’re looking well.” He turned, giving you a once-over to take you in before nodding. “And you are MC, yes?” 

Glaring, already feeling your skin about to burn, you leaned away from him. “And you’re an angel.” Your distrustful attitude let him frown for just a moment, but whether it was just his angelic nature or his personality, that smile was right back on his face. 

“Yes, well, the plan requires an angel, so Simeon personally asked me for my hand in this matter.” 

The both of them could tell that you were unbelievably confused, so Simeon gestured for the angel to take a seat at the table. “Luke.” The prince gestured to his small servant, the one who had not only brought you sweets but had taken the liberty to be staring you down the entire time. Finally, he turned his attention away from you. “Please do me a favor and get our new guest some refreshments.” The lesser demon squinted at you, nearly growled at the angel, and then took his leave with rapid little steps. Simeon laughed quietly to himself. “Don’t worry about him, he’s not used to others quite yet. But, MC.” With your name mentioned, you straightened your posture. “I’ve been planning this for quite some time. It’s been a desire of mine to bring the three realms closer together.” You couldn’t help but wonder why, what purpose it served, but you kept your mouth shut. “And while I’ve started to make decent progress fixing the old wounds between the Devildom and Celestial Realm, most of my kingdom and Solomon’s people refuse to make connections with the humans.” 

Mortals...even just the mention managed to leave a heavy pit in your stomach. “If I may speak.” You waited for the prince’s go-ahead before speaking your mind. “What would be the point of connecting with the humans? They serve little purpose. They’re either so corrupt they destroy their own kind or they think they’re so pure they isolate themselves or get themselves killed in the name of their twisted justice.” Speaking so passionately against the idea, you didn’t realize your nails had grown into talons, leaving marks in the wooden table. You took a breath, reclaiming your typical form. “They can’t even do themselves any good, what makes you think they’d be good for our realms?” 

Solomon, an expression of understanding mixed with pity, bounced a little in his seat. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” He turned his head to Simeon, who was nodding at you with a bit of approval. 

“That’s what this plan is all about. Testing them, observing them. We’ll be watching these humans, and at the end of this project, we’ll be able to determine if they’re ready and worthy of being brought together with us.” The ruler crossed one leg over the other, his tone making it sound as it was as simple as eating pie. 

Setting down the fork to your pastry, you felt a sense of dread wash over you. “And by we you mean?” 

“Why, you and Solomon of course! A demon and an angel, both working together to restore the bond between the human world and ours! The Demonic and Angelic Restoration program! Or D.A.R. -dare- for short.” If it weren’t for the horns, you’d almost think this demon was an angel with the way he eagerly talked about restoring bonds and bettering the nature of the realms. But, then you felt nauseous. 

“What...what exactly do you need me to do to help with this...program? And why me?” 

It was actually the angel that spoke up. “I’m sure you’re aware of the Morningstars?” 

It was such a silly question, you ended up scoffing. “Who doesn’t down here? Those brothers are filled with so much corruption and chaos they end up fueling about half the lesser demons down here...why?” 

They both straight up ignored your question and instead asked you some of their own. Simeon leaned forward, looking at you intently. “It took me quite a bit of time to find you MC. Most people don’t know you exist, and those that do hardly know your name. You simply are known to most as Isolation. Is it true that you’ve never made a pact with a human? Rumor is that you even refuse to subsist off their sins. And you’ve never taken a soul? That’s typically unheard of nowadays.”  

Shifting in your seat, you gave it to them straight. “It’s true. I do whatever I can to avoid contact. Haven’t even seen a human in the past millennia. Haven’t talked to one in about twice that time.” 

Clapping his hands together, Simeon let out an amazed sigh. “Perfect. You will be able to have a fresh eye! A clean slate. An unbiased--well, mostly unbiased opinion. You won’t be tempted to corrupt them, you’ll give me honest answers.” 

“Plus,” the angel agreed, “if you have the strength and willpower to live without human sustenance and influence for this long, you probably will have the patience to keep from killing them. If anyone could manage to live with the Morningstars, it would be you, from what I’ve heard.” 

You were grateful you had put down your drink a while ago. Your breath caught in your throat. “Wait, excuse me, what did you say? Live...with the…” 

“Mr. Morningstar!” A laugh, a handshake, even a pat on the shoulder, it nearly made you ill watching the upcoming king of the Devildom greet a human like this so casually. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at this mortal...one of the Morningstars, the eldest. The one who fueled the most demons without even knowing about it. People down in the Devildom called him by Pride. A human world CEO-whatever that meant. He was powerful, influential, not to mention ridiculously rich. And he’d do whatever it took to keep his status, even at the misfortune of plenty of other people. His suit and posture told you pretty much all you needed to know about him. A fancy well tailored pitch black suit, a striking red tie with a subtle but regal diamond design, diamond cufflinks, the works. It was as if dust and winkles knew to avoid him entirely. His hair was as dark as his suit, save for the ends which were greying. He didn’t seem that old, so you wondered if it was intentional or simply stress. You thought you heard someone say that once, that humans could get grey hair from stress. Did they all possess capabilities to change their hair based on their emotions? That human lady you saw outside the building with the blue hair must’ve been feeling something intense. 

“Mr-” The human you had come to see was cut off. 

“Please, you know to call me Simeon by now!” 

The mortal cleared his throat. “Simeon…” The human glanced at you, and raised his chin as he took Simeon by the shoulders and brought him away from you. If you had been a human, it would’ve been a decent tactic to keep you out of earshot. Unfortunately, you could still hear everything they were saying. “I know you have good standing with the company, and I’m pleased to know you respect and trust me with such a task, but...this is far from business.” You could feel his eyes on you. “I have to respectfully decline your request. I don’t think I can allow them to live with us for a year. You know my family.” 

“It would only be for a year, and I know you have plenty of room in that house of yours!” Simeon laughed a bit and then lowered his voice. You could feel the alluring pull of his influence flood the space. The human stiffened, his intuition picking up on a shift in the room. “Besides, Lucifer. You know I wouldn’t ask for a favor like this without some proper and well deserved remuneration. Listen...I happen to have something on the head of that business owner that’s been butting heads with your company. Wouldn’t it be nice to have them completely out of the picture? Not only is that increasing your profit, but if they happen to...I don’t know, completely go bankrupt, that little building of theirs on the corner of Main is some prime real estate.” Reaching into his pocket, Simeon pulled out a small...plastic...rectangle of sorts, with metal on one end. “I got everything right here.” Smiling, one hand firmly against Lucifer’s upper back, he looked him right in the eyes and whispered something you knew would have this human caught. “You can’t let them bother you like this. You need to show them and everyone else who you are, and that you’re not to be messed with.” 

It took the mortal a moment of internal struggle. Decline the offer and figure things out himself without assistance? Or swallow the smallest bit of ego for self satisfaction? Either way, this mortal was past helping. Already drowning in pride. Eventually, he gripped the object, tucking it into a pocket beneath his suit jacket. Despite being handed assistance, he still found a way to be demanding. “Alright, but no more than a year, and if I feel like anything is going awry, I’m sending them away. Is it really too unreasonable to just set them up on their own? Surely for you it’s no problem.” 

Backing up slightly after his incentive worked, Simeon shook his head. “I would feel endlessly guilty leaving alone, desolate, isolated, after what happened. Poor thing...they haven’t even said a word to me in days.” That last part wasn’t a lie. You’d nearly refused to say anything to him since being dragged to the human world. Prince or no prince. “My poor cousin, suddenly losing all their family like that. It’s tragic, isn’t it? Losing people you love?” 

Lucifer, with his arms folded, let his hand tightly grip the fabric of one of his sleeves. His eyes lowered the slightest touch, his jaw tightening. “It...is...I know it all too well.” You caught a hint of some emotion from the mortal. 

“Then you know that what would be best for them right now is company. Trust me, I wouldn’t have brought them to you if I didn’t think it would help. Besides, this is a win for all parties involved, right?” Simeon gestured to the gift Lucifer had tucked away, and the last string of resistance had been snipped. 

Sighing, the human looked at the luxurious watch on his wrist. “I’ll take them home. Let my brothers know what’s happening. Is it too much to assume they’ll be better behaved with a guest in the house?” 

Laughing once more, the prince shrugged. If only Lucifer knew who he was in the presence of. “You’ll all just have to find out!” Patting the other man on the shoulder, Simeon then came over to you with his arms outstretched. “It’s all settled, MC!” He pulled you into a hug, taking the time to speak quietly to you. “Remember to keep your identity a secret. I’ll be checking up on you and Solomon once a month for a report. Keep them safe. Play nice.” He pulled apart, coming around behind you and settling his hands on your shoulders. “And remember, what Mr. Morningstar is doing is unbelievably nice, so make sure to thank him and keep yourself out of trouble.” 

You broke your vow of silence out of irritation. “I’m not a child you’re sending away to school. I know how to keep my own head on my shoulders.” You attempted to brush his hands off but the grip was tightened. Swallowing your frustration, you kept yourself from grimacing, looking at the fabled Lucifer Morningstar. “Thank you...for letting me live with you.” 

For a human, he had a tenacity for picking up on things. He noticed your lie, giving you a stare down of his own before grabbing his phone. You only recently figured out what those devices were. Simeon had made sure he gifted you one of your own, since apparently it was the main source of communication in this realm. Too strange, but you picked it up fairly quickly. Lucifer just raised his head and pressed his cell against his ear. “Just make sure you refrain from being as irksome as my brothers.” The line he was dialing picked up. “Yes, have a driver prepare to come pick me up. And someone please contact my brothers for me so they know I’m bringing home a...guest.” 

It was going to be a long year…

The...metal contraption rumbled, making your head feel light. Without magic to get around, they had to use...these things. The movement slowed till it came to a stop. Looking out the pane of glass, you peered forward to see what the issue was. A big red circular light shone a bright crimson in front of the lane. Was it a threat? If so, why was the world seemingly filled with them? Then the eye turned green and the long carriage rumbled back to life. It was completely different than the last time you had been here. 

“Before you even step foot in my home, we need to set some ground rules.” Even just the sound of his voice almost physically rubbed you the wrong way. You bit the inside of your cheek. Play nice, the prince had said. How long could you keep your patience around these mortals? You looked up at him, feeling him stare you down to the corrupt depths of your soul. “Since you’re going to be living with us for so long, you’re going to have to follow the same rules I give my brothers? Understand?” 

Was this all worth it? Would having your soul be torn to shreds be that bad? “Yes.” 

He nodded, then decided his attention would be better focused towards whatever he had on that electronic device of his. He gave you orders without even looking at you. No wonder all the lesser demons who fawned after him were so pretentious. “No parties. No pets. You can stay up however long you want, but you must be back at the house no later than midnight. You can have your own room but you must keep it clean, don’t expect me to hire a maid for you. You’re responsible for looking after yourself. I might be providing a roof over your head, but anything you need is up to you. You break anything, you’re responsible for replacing it. Just use the basic level of common sense and we should have no trouble. Hopefully the year will be over before we—oh excuse me.” Without another word he picked another call, his third one since you’d been blackmailed into this ride. You just gave a gentle sigh and stared out the window. Just a few days ago you’d still existed in your botherless existence. A personal utopia of your own making. Now you were in this...hell away from hell, the scent of smog and exhaust still burning the inside of your nose. 

The rest of the ride was spent with you trying to think of ways to escape this fate, but finding none in sight. You didn’t need to fully see the building to get this overwhelming wave of impurity. The tempting allure of sin. Practically a demon buffet. These morons were just screaming to be killed or worse, eaten. Even just approaching the gate to the driveway, you could see remnants of spirits, demons without full forms clawing at the fence. Wisps of black sinking into their sidewalk. But not even those, you could smell the presence of other lesser demons...but more dangerous ones. Outside the gate were small crowds, not too many, but enough to safely conceal their presence. Photographers, journalists, fans, wherever they were, they were eager to get in. And amongst the rabble stood demons pretending to be mortals in an attempt to sink their fangs into one of the Morningstars. You slunk down in your seat, trying to conceal your presence, but you were sure they’d be able to feel you. The car slipped past all of them, approaching the first set of gates. Whoever was patrolling the vehicle pressed their fingers against a small pad attached to a pillar by the gate. It waited for a moment, then made an affirming noise before the gate swung open. The cries of mortal and hidden demons alike pleading for the smallest sliver of attention from this human made you feel sick. 

Despite having nearly ignored you the whole time, Lucifer scoffed. “You’ll get used to it.” The curved metal fence shut behind you, and the sound of the crowd slowly faded as you pulled up in front of the massive house. If anything, it reminded you a little of home. It was an old fashioned looking house, but fanciful nonetheless. With dark stone, piercing towers, arched windows, and an overall gothic aesthetic. You managed to take a moment to breathe. At least there was one silver lining. Lucifer stepped out of the idle vehicle first, paying you no mind as he approached the steps to the door. Slightly panicking, you tried simply pushing the door before noticing the small handle. Pulling it unlocked it, and you rapidly exited, feeling the motion sickness fade with your feet on the ground. You followed the mortal to the door, and was slightly pleased when he put his phone away to open the door, leaving it open for you. Lucifer shut the door, a small high pitched noise ringing through your ears. You turned and watched him mess with a little panel near the door. “Our security is top of the market. I make sure the code is changed every day, so if you’re not inside by midnight, I hope you enjoy camping.” 

You were about to speak up about that, but both of you were bombarded with noise. A noise you would later learn to get used to. “Oi! Lucifer!” A bundle of energy came racing down the stairs. Wild hair, dark skin, rings on nearly every finger, you recognized this individual without having to ask his name. You could feel the influence. Greed. Demons almost loved this brother more than Pride, because from what you’d heard, he’d make deals impulsively with demons without knowing their true intentions. As long as money or something expensive was in front of him, he’d jump for anything. It had gotten him in more than enough trouble, and it made him too much of a prime target. At least Lucifer knew how to look over his shoulder. The second brother confronted the eldest. He didn’t even glance at you. “Hey, I need some cash! For some reason my card keeps declining...you can spot me right?” 

Lucifer didn’t even hesitate. “No.” 

“Eh? Why not?! I did that thing the other day for you, remember?” 

“Hm?” Lucifer tilted his head, taking the time to recall-or pretending to. “Which thing would that be? Would it have been before or after you stole and immediately maxed out my card?” Lowering his eyes, the older one gave off a menacing smile. 

Mammon took a step back, muttering. “O-oh you found about that, huh?” 

The smile turned into a full on yell. “Of course I found out! I got a call from the bank as soon as they saw the purchase! What exactly do you need a golden tiger statue for, Mammon? Seriously, you’re absolutely ridiculous! I returned it by the way, and in the meantime I cancelled all your cards.” Mammon went to open his mouth in anger but didn’t have the chance to say anything. “You can try to find some extra work to pay off all the bills you’ve left me with. And if I think you’re ready, I’ll reopen your accounts in two months.” The effort of shouting sent Pride’s eye twitching. He lifted a hand to press against his forehead, the blood draining from his face. You shifted ever so slightly in your spot and he groaned. “Right, you’re here. Mammon, this is MC.” 

Eyebrows raised, he jumped a little when he finally spotted you were in the room. “Wait, wait, wait, that whole thing with someone staying with us for a year wasn’t a joke?” 

“No.” Although the slight warble to his voice seemed that that fact was just now settling in. “It wasn’t. And since you’ve so kindly volunteered yourself, you can take their bags and show them to their room.” He simply turned. No welcome, no tour, no warmth in those cold eyes of his. 

“Hey! Come back here!” Yet the younger sibling showed no signs of chasing after him. “Lucifer!” His older brother just quickly headed up the stairs and disappeared into the house. Was it really going to require a full year of observation? Just from what you were seeing right now, you wanted nothing to do with humans. Nothing. Mammon ran a hand through his hair, one of his strands getting stuck in one of his rings, but he tugged it out without noticing, like it was a daily occurrence. “I can’t believe this.” You could watch as the anger started to swell within him. “Screw this, I’m out of here!” You were ready for him to leave, to give into his emotions. He had wrapped his hand around the door handle before he stopped. Pausing, he just tutted to himself before shoving his hands in his jacket-pockets, looking in your direction but not fully at you. “You want the guest room we have upstairs or down?” Loud, brash, rude in some ways, but there was a weird sort of innocence about him. You simply shrugged. He nodded, grasping one of your bags suddenly, gesturing you to follow. “I’ll give you the downstairs one. Most of our rooms are on the second floor, so it’s a bit quieter down here, plus it stays cooler.” He led you past the entrance hall and back into the rest of the house. “Plus, it’s easier to sneak out from here, but you didn’t hear that from me. I’m guessing Lucifer gave you the whole rule spiel?” 

You restrained the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah.” 

He hissed in air through his teeth. “Sucks, man, are you sure you want to stay here?” 

The pain around your wrists was still too prominent. Etched into your skin was a mark, a line of runes and symbols around your wrists. Who knew demons could give temporary pacts to other demons? Simeon ensured you a small fraction of his power, just in case you ran into trouble. But in exchange he had a hold on you, able to summon you to him whenever he needed you. It was your chain keeping you imprisoned here. There was no running. There was no hiding. “I didn’t have a choice.”

[kob131]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3vYbF3_TAk

I tried watching JelloApocolaypse’s video on RWBY again.

... Yeah, just as bad as before.

A. The conflict with the Grimm is not the plot of the story. It’s just the backstory.

B. “Haha look! RWBY added in something at the last minute! Ain;t that stupid?” *looks behind him to see Dragon Ball posters*.

C. “Haha Naruto reference!” Because eye powers are unique to Naruto and this isn’t an overdone cliche.

D. “Hur dur, Weiss hate Ruby!” No she doesn’t. That stopped being a thing by the end of Volume 1.

E. “Weiss loses every fight!” Except for the White Trailer...and V1 E8...and V1 E10...and V2 E4...and V2 E12...and V3 E1...and V3 E11.

F. “BLAKE BLAND!” So is your humor.

G. “FANAUS INCONSISTENT!” And yet you call yourself an animator...

H. “THEY NO EXPLORE SIDE CHARACTERS” *Shows Emerald, Sun and Velvet*

I. “SHOW NO ABOUT CHARACTERS, FIGHTS!’ Yes the fights that even in the early Volumes were used to punctuate character arcs and conflicts...which means it is about the characters.

J. “BUTTMETAL!” ... RWBY uses Rock.

K. “ANIMATION BAD!” Congrats, you said literally the most generic compliant about RWBY ever.

L. “PYRRHA MARKED FOR DEATH!” ... You didn’t even mention her namesake being the origin of the term “Pyrrhic Victory”.

M. “ADAM THE WORST!” ... ... ... That’s it. You didn’t even make a joke about him being a bull Fanaus, you just treated him like a dog.

N. “DUST NOT MAGIC?!” Wow, you’d just die if someone tried explaining the Nasuverse to you huh?

O. “WRITERS FORGOT STOLEN DUST?!” What do you think the bombs had in them to explode? The unmentioned gunpowder?

P. “MAGIC EXIST BUT IT INCONSISTENT!” Since when have we seen people casually throw firebombs everywhere?

Q. “THEY FORGOT!” Yes, your ghostwriters did forget.

R. “WOR HOMEWORK” Wow, don’t let this guy near Tolkien or else his brain will break.

S. “RWBY CHIBI BETTTER!” If by better you shallow and less consistent. To translate this- imagine if someone argued that the first Summer Event used Arturia better than the mainline game in FGO.

T. “PLOT SLOW” So is Berserk’s. Wanna try swinging at that?

U. “MOMMY SALAMI!” This is literally a little kid’s joke.

V. “4 and 5 BAD!” ... Wouldn’t that make it more attractive to smack talk then? If they’re so much worse then why is this 60% Volumes 1-3 and 40% Vague? ... It’s because the bitching becomes inconsistent and impossible to generalize after Volume 3 so you can’t just make generic jokes to pander, isn’t it?

W. “OZPIN MORALLY GREY BUT HE NO DO GREY STUFF!” *sees this is made after Volume 6* Ah huh. Sure. Whatever. I can buy that.

X. “FUNNY MAN SAY BIRD!” Your humor is more shallow than Chibi’s.

Y. “THEY NO ADVANCE PLOT!” I love that this is shoved in with a ‘Wasted potential’ joke because if they picked up the pace, that means less time for that ‘potential’ of yours.

Z. “BUMBLEBY NOT BUILT UP!” 

Me: *remembers the backlash of this part* Ha! The only laugh of the whole video and it was at his misery.

Why is this just not funny? Because comedy is all about sudden subversion. Laughter is a gut reaction to sudden changes to indicate that everything’s fine. It’s why insane laughter is so dissonant. And all Jello says is the same shit you’ve heard before. There is no subversion despite pretending there is. You will see every joke coming and thus you’ll just be bored.

But hey, at least he fucked up mocking a flawed show. It’s not like he completely missed the point of a truly great series. Nope, not once.

[quokkacore]

with great power I [lee jeno]

summary: there are two things jeno loves most about his life. one being spiderman, the other being you, his best friend. there’s just one issue: after your father’s death, you decide you hate both spiderman and yourself.

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre: superhero au, high school au, coming of age, best friends to strangers(ish) to lovers, fluff, ANGST, minor crack

warnings (for this chapter): language, violence, gun violence, the mafia, parental death, police presence, sexual references, bullying (ily san im sorry), the dreamies being dicks to each other, police corruption, towards the end jeno experiences something similar to sensory overload, americanized names, pop culture references, VERY jeno centric

song rec: we go up - nct dream // any song - zico // 21 questions - waterparks // talk (remix feat. megan thee stallion & yo gotti) - khalid // sunrise - ateez // i really like you - carly rae jepsen // dare - gorillaz // stray kids - the tortoise and the hare

word count: 10.5k

a/n: this is so late...... i blame attack on titan. but hey!! better late than never :] a huge thanks to @doderyscoffee​ for beta reading <3

main masterlist // story masterlist

chapter one: jeno and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

Jeno despised Tuesdays. He was pretty sure that Tuesdays despised Jeno as well because all of his worst days just so happen to be Tuesdays. He was 96% sure that, if there was a god, his day off was on Tuesdays, or that the planets aligned in such a manner on Tuesdays that it caused universal despair and misery. If he was to take Donghyuck's word for it, his chakra attracted negative energy the most on Tuesdays.

When Jeno was 5, his goldfish Pippin had died on a Tuesday. When he had his ass handed to him on the playground by San Choi in the third grade, it was a Tuesday. And in the seventh grade, he'd failed his Spanish test, missed his bus and walked home in the rain only to find out that his Aunt Sunny was at work, he'd left his keys in his locker and that had to wait an hour before she got home to unlock it for him, all on a Tuesday. 

And wouldn't you know it, here he was, late for the first day of senior year, which was, of all days, a godforsaken Tuesday.

In his eternal wisdom, he'd stayed up gaming with Renjun until two in the morning, and because of it, slept through his three alarms, one set at six-thirty, the other at 6:45, the last one at 7:00. 

He'd woken up at 7:17, to the sound of his elderly neighbor's pet chihuahua barking at a pigeon, checked the time, immediately panicked, sped into the shower, gotten dressed in a haste, grabbed a few granola bars from the pantry, and ran out the door while trying to jam his backpack closed, and managed to catch the train at 7:40, which took about twenty minutes to get to his stop, plus a ten-minute walk to school, and class started at 8:10. Not to mention he’d have to stop by the office and pick up his schedule. At best, he’d be five minutes late to his first class. But tardies were tardies, regardless, and the last thing he needed was to lose his perfect attendance streak. 

He fished out his phone while standing on the train, waiting for his stop, scrolling through Instagram, and liking random pictures. A ping! from his phone caught his attention, then two, then a third. He smiled softly when your name popped up on his screen.

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM] 

y/n: i can sEE u online on ig u know

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

jeno: it's the school district's fault, why would they make the first day of school on a fkn TUESDAY 

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

jeno: it'll end up on my permanent record and i'm not gonna get into college and then i'm gonna die,,,

[7:52 AM] 

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear 

y/n: FIRST OF ALL permanent records dont even exist !!!!!! its propaganda duh

y/n: also ur literally never late 

y/n: im sure o n e tardy wont do anything chill

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

Don’t be stupid. Too little, too late, he thought, already having got off the train at a previous stop. Now, he was looking for an unoccupied street or alleyway, which, for once, was easy, taking a deep breath before he did the exact opposite of what you’d told him not to do. Don’t be stupid. 

The buildings are low, he thought to himself, it’ll be easier to see me. 

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

Jeno didn’t hesitate to use the web fluid to pull himself up onto the wall, climbing in a haste, before running and jumping onto the next building. He quickly built up a quick pace, using the web fluid occasionally to swing onto a building slightly out of jumping range. 

Signs in English, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish flew past him as he seemingly flew over the Queens traffic, leaving Flushing behind and crossing quickly into College Point quicker than he would if he took the train. He glanced to his left and caught a view of the bay, and far across it, the LaGuardia airport watchtower.

Jeno had lived in New York City his entire life. He knew Queens like the back of his hand, knew every dingy alleyway, every sketchy street, which restaurants to avoid if you didn’t want to get food poisoning, which convenience store aunties were the nicest and didn’t pinch his cheeks too hard. It was his home, and most likely would be for the rest of his life. 

But seeing it like this, flying past him below as he glided with ease from building to building would never cease to be a sight to him. It was like watching from the perspective of an outsider, seeing people in their cars, walking along the street gave him a brand new perspective. A Jeno’s eye view, he called it, since he was pretty sure he was the only one in New York City.

Another noise from his phone brought him back to reality. He shook his head, stopping briefly to catch his breath and fish out his phone briefly. 

[7:57 AM] 

y/n: let me know when u get here !!!

No time to respond, he put away the phone and continued his trek to school. He had less than ten minutes to get there. But he knew he was already at least five minutes away, much quicker than he would be if he had decided to stick to the train. He smiled a bit to himself, feeling ever so slightly smug.

The hustle and bustle of the city definitely proved challenging to find a place to land without many eyes, but he figured it out eventually, landing behind a dumpster in an alleyway behind a restaurant that he knew was about three or four blocks from the school. He figured it would be a lot better to take it on foot from here. The notebooks he was carrying in his backpack bounced up and down with every step he took. 

After what seemed like forever, the gates to the school appeared in his view, and Jeno felt a joy in his heaving chest, something he would have never thought would happen upon seeing the absolute hellhole that was Samuel Morse High School. 

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

Picking up his schedule was both quick and insanely long. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping his left foot while the secretary found his schedule and handed it to him. “Kibum, please hurry,” He muttered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, but his gaze was teasing. “That’s Mr. Kim to you, in school at least.” 

He handed Jeno his schedule a few seconds later. “Tell your Aunt to come pick up her casserole dish, by the way. She left it at my house after my last viewing party.”

“The Bachelor?”

“Please. We’re too classy for that. Drag Race.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Jeno,” Kibum said, staring up at him from his desk, his gaze now much more serious, “Get to class. Happy first day of senior year.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

He managed to make it to chemistry class at 8:09 with seconds to spare. His eyes quickly scanned the room upon entering, hoping his friends were in the class with him. He caught a few familiar faces, most of which, like San Choi's, he wished to avoid. No one paid him any mind. Everyone was still speaking to the people next to them, no doubt exchanging stories of summer vacation. 

  A hand shot up towards the back, waving at him. A smile stretched across his face as he registered your face, feet not hesitating to carry him towards the empty seat next to you. His heart skipped a beat at seeing your smile, and he tried his best to ignore it.

“Hey,” You greeted, “That was fast. I thought you said you were gonna be late.”

Jeno shrugged, eyes landing on the dark shade of the lab table. “The train was a lot faster than I expected, apparently.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“I, uh… ran a little.” 

You grimaced, and Jeno tried to casually sniff at his slightly sweaty clothes. It’s not that bad. “I still don’t understand why you won’t let me drive you to school. You’re literally next door.”

“I don’t know,” He answered, rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s because when it comes to that truck, you are absolutely insane. You won’t even let me drink water in that thing.”

The truck in question, a faded red 1998 Chevrolet S-10, had been your gift to yourself for your 17th birthday. You’d spent two summers saving up to buy yourself a truck, and that was what you were able to get for what you had. To say it was a huge piece of junk on wheels was an understatement. 

The thing smelled like mothballs no matter how many air fresheners you bought it, the engine sounded like an old man having a coughing fit, and there was a very suspicious stain in the backseat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you scrubbed it. But for some reason, you treated it like it was your own baby. The amount of times you’d yelled at Jaemin for trying to put his feet on the dashboard was too high to count.

You mirrored his movement, eyes rolling as you sighed. “At least let me drive you home after school today. Maybe you can stay and we can finally watch Blade Runner.”

You’d been trying to get him to watch the film for almost a month now, begging and pleading because you insisted that he’d love it. He offered an awkward stare, before opening his backpack and pulling out a notebook. “Can’t,” He mumbled, “I’m headed into Manhattan. I have my internship afterwards.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said nonchalantly, eyebrows shooting up as you remembered, “Park Industries.” 

He was about to reply when Mrs. Baker, the chemistry teacher, finally entered. She’d been working at SMHS for 30 years and had never, apparently, been nice, if his Aunt Sunny’s stories were anything to go by. However, she had apparently always spoken as if she smoked two packs a day. She was rambling about the importance of making the most of senior year academically, adult responsibilities, college, and whatnot. You and Jeno exchanged glances often throughout the monologue, hoping it would end soon. 

“Enough of that,” She said after what seemed like an eternity, “Everyone quiet down, I’m going to call roll.”

Names were quickly called, and Jeno was ready to pull out a pencil and start working with you until Mrs Baker demanded a switch in seats, beginning to call on random names in an effort to deter everyone from speaking. 

"Please not with Choi, please not with Choi," Jeno muttered under his breath, glancing warily at San, who was staring ahead, looking bored. 

San had had it out for Jeno ever since day one, in first grade. For some reason, everything Jeno did seemed to annoy the other boy. He wasn't funny enough, or too nerdy, or too quiet. Jeno was always too much or too little for him. 

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you. 

“You’ll be fine,” You said softly, trying not to alert the teacher, “You’re not gonna get paired up with him, and you can take it to the office if you need to.” “Yeah, because I’m sure Coach Peralta would be thrilled if someone tried to get his precious midfielder in trouble.”

“Choi, San,” Mrs Baker’s voice rang throughout the room, and Jeno braced himself for the worst, eyebrows furrowing with worry. 

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.” 

Jeno’s shoulders slumped, but your face remained impassive. You picked up your stuff, and pouted silently at Jeno in apology, before making your way to the front. 

“Lee, Jeno,” Mrs Baker called a few minutes later, “You’ll be sitting with Jang, Yeeun.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Yeeun is nice, Jeno thought to himself, I could sit with Yeeun. She wasn’t part of his main friend group, but he had tutored her in math during sophomore year in exchange for her helping him with Spanish, and they’d been pretty friendly ever since. 

“Hey,” Yeeun greeted as Jeno sat down, and Jeno smiled at her. 

“Remember, these will be your assigned lab partners for the rest of the semester. No changes, no exceptions.” Mrs. Baker sat down at her desk, before beginning to talk about something Jeno didn’t really pay attention to.

You exchanged glances with Jeno, and he gave you a look of sympathy as you gestured at San with your eyes. San was talking to you about something—probably bragging about some soccer achievement—but you weren’t paying him much attention. Jeno swallowed something growing in his throat as he looked at how your hair looked today. 

It was nothing relatively new, the same hairstyle you used on most days. But still, there was a bit of a shine to it. He wondered vaguely if you had changed your shampoo, the other day you’d been complaining about how itchy your normal shampoo made your scalp—

“You still haven’t told her about how you feel?” Yeeun asked quietly, and Jeno’s head snapped back to look at her, eyes wide.

“W-what? Me. Like Y/N…” He laughed nervously, trying to keep his voice down. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding Yeeun’s accusatory stare. “You’re hilarious, Yeeun. Tell another one.”

Yeeun shook her head. “You’d better hurry before someone else snatches her up, Jen. She’s not gonna wait around for you forever.”

 “I don’t like her, Yeeun.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

“Hey! Jaemin Na! What do you want!” Jeno answered as he sat down, mimicking Jaemin’s tone next to him.

“Well, for starters, a million dollars, and second, a date with Yiren Wang, but I doubt you can help me with either of those, so...”

Jeno glanced at the rest of the table. Along with Jaemin, Mark,  Renjun, Donghyuck, and you were watching the interaction between the pair. “Where are the munchkins?” Jeno asked, noticing Chenle and Jisung’s absence. No one could really call them munchkins anymore. That nickname dated back to middle school, before the two underclassmen had gone through growth spurts.

“Eh, they should be here soon,” Renjun said, chewing on a french fry, “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good so far, I guess. I got AP Calc with Mr. Washington later, though. That man wants me dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t want you dead. I’m telling you, you and Hyuck have been spending way too much time together. You’re being more dramatic than usual and Hyuck’s being more… weird than usual.”

“And just what is so weird about being enthusiastic about senior year, Y/N?” Donghyuck asked, shaking his head, “It’s our last year in this hellhole, I’m excited that we’re finally getting out of here. And besides—”

“Please don’t bring up the fact that you’re abandoning us next year.” Chenle seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to Renjun, Jisung following quickly behind him.

“Hi, Sungie,” You said with a smile, and Jisung smiled back. “Hi, Y/N.”

“What were you saying, Hyuck?” Jaemin looked at Donghyuck, who had taken the quick interaction as an opportunity to take a bite of his sandwich. His wide eyes darted to the slim boy, cheeks stuffed with chicken. 

“Oh,” He replied after swallowing, “This is gonna be my year. I’m getting male lead for the winter musical and no one is gonna stop me.”

“Do you even know what musical you guys are doing yet?” Mark asked, “What if it’s like… Shrek?”

Jisung made a face. “There’s a Shrek musical?”

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

“I don’t know about male lead, if it’s Shrek. You should try out for Donkey,” The Chinese boy joked, “With those front teeth, you’re a shoo-in.”

The entire table was silent for a moment, before snorts and chortles started pouring out from everyone except Donghyuck.

“Fuck you, Huang.” 

Renjun flashed the friendliest smile he could muster. “Not if you paid me a million dollars.”

The subject remained on extracurriculars, everyone in your group except for Chenle and Jisung now wary of college applications. Donghyuck had been in theater ever since middle school, Renjun was in the robotics club and the debate team with Jaemin, who was also in the student council. Mark was on the math team with Jeno, and you had founded the film club. 

"You're not gonna believe who asked to sign up for film," You huffed, looking kind of confused. The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, and you pursed your lips, almost as if you were trying not to laugh.

"San Choi."

Renjun scoffed. Jaemin raised his eyebrows before letting out a single, humorless laugh. Jeno made a face, poking his plastic fork at you. 

"What is San Choi doing asking to sign up for film?"

"Fuck if I know. He said he needed one more extracurricular if he wanted to get into some college in Florida and he liked going to the movies, so he wanted to try out film."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I swear there's nothing in that guy's head but hot gas. It blows my mind."

"He's a dick," Chenle grumbled, "I'm still not over how he and Wooyoung taped Jisung to the flagpole last year."

Jisung scowled. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."

“Do you think they’ll finally calm the fuck down this year?” Jaemin wondered, looking wistful.

You took a sip of your coke and shook your head. “Doubt it. They’re not the hateful eight for a reason.”

The mood at the table turned tense, until Jaemin frowned at his french fries, before sighing and clapping his hands together dramatically. “I would like to hear,” He mused, “About the nuance that theatre gives the cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek when converted into musical form.”

Donghyuck beamed. “Oh, it’s amazing. You see…”

If it was difficult to get Donghyuck to stop talking in general, it was impossible when it was about theater.

The conversation continued on until the bell rang, and the eight of you had to go your separate ways. Jaemin and Jeno had the same class, so they both walked together down a relatively calm hallway. Jaemin looked both ways, before finally lowering his voice. 

“So, you’re going to see Mr. Park today?”

Jeno nodded, looking down at his shoes. “He said he wanted to give me an assignment. Says there’s something big going on.”

Jaemin’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did he say what kind of something?” 

Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” 

Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.

As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled. 

“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately. 

“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”

You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”

“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”

You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?” 

“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?” 

You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”

Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.

“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”

“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’. 

“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”

He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”

You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.” 

He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch. 

Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy. 

Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time. 

 Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord. 

All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends. 

"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"

Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"

"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"

"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."

You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?" 

You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"

"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"

"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”

You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.

So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”

Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”

San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”

“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”

You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”

San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.

“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”

“Coming!” San yelled back.

“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”

 The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”

Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!” 

Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.

When you talk right to me 

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving 

You running back to me

You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months. 

Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung. 

He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung. 

And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history. 

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since. 

You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything. 

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.

The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration. 

Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to. 

It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel. 

Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.

When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face. 

He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also. 

To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college. 

To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing. 

Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.

“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!” 

Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.

"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"

"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."

Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss. 

That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either. 

Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"

Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only. 

This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters. 

Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked. 

"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."

Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"

"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."

Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.

“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”

“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”

“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”

Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—” 

 The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”

The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.

Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit. 

Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.

"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here." 

Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."

Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."

Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."

Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."

The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.

Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”

Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things. 

“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”

“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”

“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”

Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”

Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”

Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious. 

“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”

“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”

“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”

“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”

Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”

Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together. 

“Perfect.” 

They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.

After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.

Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things. 

Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed. 

Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.

“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?” 

The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!” 

Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.

“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.

"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”

“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”

Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”

Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”

Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.” 

Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”

Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”

“Jeno?” 

He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.

His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”

You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.” 

You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."

"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."

"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."

Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."

Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.

"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."

But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"

He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out. 

"So you left your keys."

Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."

You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry." 

Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me." 

Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change." 

Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult.  You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.

"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."

Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"

"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"

Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest. 

"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"

You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."

"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."

"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?" 

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"

"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year." 

Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."

Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.

"Deal." 

You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."

The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist. 

On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.

Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether. 

When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.

“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly. 

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed. 

And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”

Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.

He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.

“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”

 “Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”

“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”

“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”

Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”

“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.” 

A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.

Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them. 

“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”

“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was. 

“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”

Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”

One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before. 

“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”

Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”

The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped. 

“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.

“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”

“Hand it over, then.”

That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.

“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”

In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him. 

“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered. 

“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”

“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”

Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came. 

The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground. 

The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!” 

So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.

When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths. 

Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault. 

He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station. 

As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could. 

He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.

What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.

[8:36 PM]

y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)

“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.

The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.

After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.

His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”

You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up. 

“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”

He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs​ @crescentjen​

[twstheadcanons]

This is a lore question and a slightly specific one. Cater as a character and otherwise is super interesting to me but at the same time insanely confusing. While at first I thought he would end up having maybe slightly abusive family there's a possibility that's not the case. His sister's seem to enjoy dolling him up and his mother seems to go along with it and his father's a bit more absent. I think I would mainly like to know what his true self is truly reflecting and also if Trey seems to know about this 'true version'. Don't feel pressured to anwser this if you can't btw ❣️

Cater fans come get yall’s food.

S, iideally I’d go through events Cater’s prominent in (Beans Day, Halloween), but that would just make this whole post longer.  So I’ll be using Cater’s card stories for now.  What we know about Cater, on the surface level, is that he comes across as happy-go-lucky, energetic, social, trendy, superficial, flaky, and insensitive at times.  But that’s Cater on a surface level.

So for Cater, his major issues from his background are:

his family frequently moving to accommodate his father’s occupation as a banker

his sisters dragging him into their own interests that he was expected to accommodate as well

Cater repeatedly states he disliked getting dragged around by his sisters and having cutesy stuff he wasn’t genuinely interested in shoved into his face.  This would even happen on his birthday, where his sisters got him things they’re more likely to enjoy, which made Cater feel frustrated since he was supposed to be the focus on his own birthday.  But despite that annoyance, Cater understands his sisters didn’t really mean any harm.  From the sounds of it, they liked hanging out with Cater, and assumed that Cater enjoyed how they spent time together as well since Cater preferred to go with the flow, rather than rock the boat.  

In his Bday SSR, Cater mentions that his sisters became more considerate of his own interests and asked him what he wanted.  All three coming from a family where they move and lose close friends a lot, the sisters are probably close and want to stay close to their brother as well, since they’re the only consistent company in a similar age range.  His sisters are each other’s best friends, Cater didn’t have that growing up.  He also mentions his sisters and mother’s sweets-making kick, and how he eventually got over having sweets every day.  But when he protested, it’d disappoint and sadden them/they’d have dejected looks on their faces, which Cater didn’t know how to handle, so he made himself go along with their whims to keep them happy.  

This pours into his social media life, where he’s a peppy, cheery guy that posts upbeat content and responds with light, casual, carefree messages to people.  His Lab SR literally has him state that he ‘should always be happy and excited, after all’.  So, clearly, whatever dynamic the Diamond family has, while not what I’d call something as heavy as abuse, isn’t considerate of Cater’s feelings and views Cater’s ‘go with the flow’ ways as approval.  If he ‘breaks character’ of the devil-may-care person he is on the surface, it raises questions, and Cater would rather just avoid all that and enjoy himself instead of getting involved in anything heavy.

Again, Cater doesn’t like to rock the boat.  He also mentions in his Lab SR that this obsession with cutesy stuff became rather invasive, and he’d even be criticised or second-guessed if he didn’t go along with the idea.  Cater ends up accommodating that interest to prevent any debate, even if he didn’t actually care for them.  That said, with such an emphasis on aesthetics being the way he grew up, Cater has a good understanding and practical knowledge of decour and eye-catching designs, which makes him helpful and invaluable when the time calls for decour.  This is something Cater knows he’s good at, and enjoys showing off since the focus is on himself and he’s acknowledged for his skills.

With their family moving all the time, Caters gained and lost friends a lot.  Cater has an outgoing personality, at this point, it’s safe to assume he’s an extrovert, so making friends comes naturally to him.  But when you’re moving a lot, maybe sometimes in the middle of a school term, .  Cater needs engagement and social interaction, but at this point in his life, he’s tired of trying to keep up with old and new friends on deep levels, hence his interest and obsession with social media.

One thing to note about Cater: he likes cutting corners.  a lot.

In his R card “Portrait of Rosalia”, it’s understood that Cater being nice to Rosalia by throwing her a party with some lively students around is a way for him to get on her good side, because Rosalia overhears the teachers’ discussions of tests and future lessons so that he wouldn’t have to study for an upcoming history test: while Cater’s idea of a party to lift Rosalia’s spirits is in good nature, he wants something out of it that benefits him.  But while disappointed the plan didn’t work, he’s quick to brush it off, and Rosalia’s anger, by mentioning that she’s cuter when uptight anyway.

In his PE card “This betrayer!” Cater only have five laps left to do in PE.  But he hates how sweaty he is and how tedious the overall task is.  So he uses his UM to try and avoid doing all five laps himself.  Riddle catches him red-handed, and Cater tries - albeit I’m sure he knows it’s a lost cause - to flatter Riddle at the last minute.  Trey’s also involved, and despite leaving Cater in the dust, Trey also returns with Riddle, because Trey knows that Cater’s the type that tries to cut corners whenever possible, something against the rules in Heartslabyul.  Honestly, as far as Trey goes, Trey’s someone used to the way Riddle holds himself back.  Cater’s exterior personality wouldn’t be hard for Trey to recognise as Cater pushing himself or exaggerating points of his personality just to keep up an image. especially after being in the same dorm for three years.

In short, while he isn’t malicious about majority of the time, Cater will use others to get out situations and tasks he wants no part of.  This is a huge thing reflected in his UM, as it allows Cater to be in more than one place, so that he personally doesn’t have to be involved.  Growing up with two pushy older sisters, it makes he develops a UM that complements a need for escape when pure wit won’t work.  And despite being someone with a superficial interest in trends, that experience accumulates in him understanding the basics about social media and how it affects others, himself included, since it became the only way he could stay in contact with acquaintances and ‘friends’ from previous years. 

 Cater has a good understanding of how people, in general, work, especially those in his agegroup, which makes him rather crafty when he wants to string others along and get out of a situation.  This doesn’t make Cater a mean or conniving person, and in fact, he’s generally amicable and social.  Cater lives by a pretty ‘live in the moment’ credo.  He enjoys having fun and not getting overly serious about issues when he can help it.  There are instances where he doesn’t care about the situation he’s in, or thinks it’s lame/boring, but he tries to make the most of it as something to post about on MagiCam later to engage in low-effort social interaction for a mental break. 

Cater pretty much states this in his Halloween SSR:

“If I left there, they remained there. That’s why I’d rather have a casual and happy time with everyone instead of going steady. It’s like a circus troupe, you know, having fun hanging with people all over the world and then leaving. And that’s why MagiCam is the best. I suddenly got messages from acquaintances from the school I went to 3 years ago. Aren’t my casual and light relationships multiplying? It’s lovely! “

Social media helps him keep in contact with people on a low-effort level, so the risk of moving doesn’t damage his relationships online like it would physical friendships.  As for family, Cater’s feelings towards his family are difficult, tricky ones he has problems with.  He certainly doesn’t hate them, but their lifestyle, the moving and pushy personalities, don’t mesh well with Cater’s personality overall.  When Lilia tries to relate to Cater’s experiences of fleeting relationships, Cater can’t help but dismiss Lilia’s empathy as surface-level, since, to CATER’S knowledge (it’s not like he knows Lilia’s old as shit), Lilia’s always lived in the VoT with his own family and friends, which hits a sore spot with Cater:

““Cater: ….Family…huh.

Flashback Lilia: I feel like I understand you. But it is just as Cater says, it might be the truth that you should not attach yourself too much to one person in particular.

Flashback ends Cater: (That was full of lies. For a guy who grew up in the same place and never had to deal with rebuilding relations over and over… He wouldn’t understand my worthless and meaningless feelings.)

/Notification

Cater: Hello, Trey. What’s up? Huh? Are we doing our rehearsal for our night show at the stamp rally now? And is Deuce from my committee lacking in hands, so Ace is helping him out? Darn, Ace is definitely going to use this to ask me for a favor later!

Cater: Argh! And is Riddle on the verge of a rampage? I’ll be back soon, Trey, please calm him! It was such a pain getting involved in the biggest crisis of this Halloween week! No, for real! I’m not lying. That’s why you don’t have to say such cold things to me, kay? URGH, TREY, YOU’RE SO CRUEL!!

Cater: Now that Diasomnia’s turmoil has settled, it’s time to change the mood. No matter how you slice it, we’ll still separate if we become 4th years… It would be different if I repeated a year though. Anyway, I should just enjoy the memories I’m making “now”! I’ll surprise everyone with this charming skeleton costume! I’ll show them my serious side!”

Cater calls his own feelings ‘worthless and meaningless’, which likely ties into how he got dragged into his mother and sisters’ own interests over his own, and sometimes even criticised if he didn’t go with their flow.  He also expects the friendships he’s made in NRC (as we see with him talking to Trey about the rest of the Heartslabyul cast), to inevitably disappear after he and Trey are fourth years with their own internships and lives to live.  Because to Cater, the future of his life and relationships appear disruptive and inconsistent, so instead of fretting about them, he wants to live in the moment and enjoy what he’s doing at all times, hence why he cuts corners to make things easier on himself.  This is why he can come across as superficial and easy to get along with, because he doesn’t want to fret over the details.

unrelated but we’re team ‘former dorm leader cater’ here because him doing it because it sounds cool and fun fits perfectly with his personality

[dirtyhelen]

with you, a girl could get bolder (i just wanna be a little bit closer) - part two

PART TWO: i’m in your head now, from every second now Series Masterlist Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Mature Featuring: Angst; Fluff; No Additional Warnings Words: 7894 Summary: So, you had sex with a co-worker under the influence of a super-powered aphrodisiac. What do you do now? A/N: First of all, BIG thank you to everyone who liked/replied/reblogged Part 1!! Honestly overwhelmed by how lovely you all are 🤗 Second of all, there is no smut in this part so if you wanna skip this one and catch up on Part 3 (which does have smut) I totally get it and you will receive no judgment from me!! Sorry for the wait on this one, Part 3 won’t take this long I promise! ________________________________________________________________

You sleep for a long time, deep and dreamless, and wake to the hot midday sun streaming in through your open curtains. You’d been so out of it the night before you hadn’t even bothered to shut them. For a moment or two it feels like a normal day, albeit a lazy one. Like sleeping in on Sunday and waking up easy and refreshed. You reach for your phone to check the time when recollection kicks in, reminding you exactly why you’re in bed at noon on a Friday, stripping away any feelings of peace or rest. You want to stay in bed, bury yourself under the covers until you die. Or at least until someone from the compound reaches out to you, but there’s too much nervous energy thrumming under your skin, making you restless and jittery and you finally give in and leave the warm cocoon of your blankets. You spend the day at home, stress-cleaning your entire apartment and stress-eating your entire fridge, vacillating between panic and calm. One minute you’re stuffing your face with week-old stir-fry and checking your phone with every mouthful; the next you’re elbow-deep in dishwater, resigned to your fate – whatever it may be. In worried moments, you can’t imagine how you can possibly go back to the compound after everything that’s happened. How can you discuss schedules and mission reports when everyone you work with knows you got railed by an Avenger on one of the jets they use to fly around saving the world? How can you face Bucky again? Even if he doesn’t blame you for what happened, he’s bound to have some negative feelings about the whole thing. About sleeping with you. It’s not like you’d been friends before. Not like he’s been harbouring secret romantic feelings like you have. If Bucky’s harbouring any secret feelings about you, they’re probably feelings of annoyance and dislike. What if every time he looks at you now he’s reminded of how you begged, needy and naked and pathetic, for him to fuck you? What if he’s disgusted by you? Somehow that’s the worst thought of all. That the first person – the only person – to have seen your body laid bare, to have touched you in the most intimate ways possible might be repulsed, not by what happened, but because it happened with you. It’s a thought you try not to dwell on for long, but you come back to it over and over throughout the day. Each time, shame and self-loathing and heartache flood your body until you force yourself to think about something else. To eat something else, clean something else. You remind yourself there’s no point worrying about things that might never happen. You’ll only have to endure the reactions from Bucky and the team if you actually go back to work, which might not be an option anymore. No one’s reached out to you all day – no calls, no emails, no texts – and the radio silence has you fearing the worst. That no one has reached out because they’re busy working on your termination paperwork. As the hours slip by, those moments of calm get fewer and further between. By the time you’ve eaten all there is to eat, cleaned all there is to clean, and paced what feels like a hundred miles across the length of your apartment it’s nearly midnight and the only messages you’ve gotten all day are promotional emails and a meme from one of your friends back home. You wish you could talk to her, tell her about everything and get another perspective, but the ironclad NDA you signed on your first day of work rules out telling pretty much anyone other than the Avengers and their support staff – none of whom you want to talk about this with. If nothing else, at least your nervous energy has burned off, leaving you drained and eager to sleep for another twelve – or twelve thousand – hours. But despite your exhaustion, sleep doesn’t come any easier than the night before. You toss and turn for hours it seems, and when you do sleep, it’s light and fitful. You wake early on Saturday morning, feeling no more relaxed than when you first shut your eyes. +++ After another morning alone in your apartment with no news, you think you’re going to go insane soon. You’ve drafted a dozen emails to Maria Hill, to the head of R&D, even one to Steve, but can’t bring yourself to hit send on any of them. Trying to find the line between professional concern and desperate pleading proves to be very difficult. You’ve just started yet another message to Maria – since she coordinates all Avengers operations (including the one that landed you in this situation) – when your phone rings. It’s such a surprise after the silence of the last two days that you’re frozen for a moment before you scramble for your phone, almost dropping it in a mug of lukewarm tea in your haste. A glance at the screen reveals it’s Maria herself on the line, as if summoned by all your unfinished emails. Knowing her background and capabilities, you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow has seen them… Brushing away that uncomfortable thought, you take a breath and answer the call, trying your best for a confident and casual, “Hello?” Characteristically brusque, Maria wastes no time getting straight to the point. “Can you come to the compound this afternoon? The research half of R&D has an update for you and I figured we should talk, too.” “Uh—” you start, wondering how to give a firm fuck no while still being agreeable and cooperative. Luckily, Maria picks up on the reason for your hesitance. “Right, that would probably be uncomfortable for you. We’ll come to you. Three o’clock?” she offers. “Three is good?” It’s not like you have anything else going on. “Great. I’m supposed to call Secretary Ross at three and I do not want to. See you then.” And with that, the line goes dead. Maria has very little patience for pleasantries, you’ve learned. +++ At three o’clock sharp there’s a knock at your door. You open it up to find Maria waiting outside with a middle-aged woman carrying a black medical bag. You vaguely remember seeing her face among the half dozen or so you saw during the debrief after the jet. Maria says hello and makes the necessary introductions. “This is Dr. Sakina Singh,” she says, face expressionless. “She’s from R&D. You might remember her from –” “The extremely intrusive round of questions I asked you two days ago,” Dr. Singh interjects with a grimace, looking about as uncomfortable as you feel. This probably isn’t what she imagined she’d be doing when she accepted the offer to work with the Avengers. You laugh politely if a little awkwardly. “I remember. Nice to meet you, officially?” She smiles and you shake hands. “Can we come in?” Maria asks, reminding you they’re still standing in your open doorway while cold February air blows into your apartment. “Right! Sorry!” You bring them through to your kitchen, gesturing for them to sit at the table and making the obligatory offers of tea and coffee. Maria and Dr. Singh take one side of the table and it makes you feel a bit like you’re about to have the worst job interview of your life. The fact that Maria was actually at your last job interview doesn’t help. You start to fidget with your hands, relieved the table hides the worst of your nerves. Dr. Singh starts off the proceedings. “I mostly just wanted to check in and see if you’ve experienced any other symptoms, anything out of the ordinary, and to give you a bit of an update on what we’ve found out about the chemical you and Sergeant Barnes ingested,” she says, looking more at-ease now the small-talk portion of the conversation is over and she can focus on the science of it all. “I feel normal,” you reply quietly. “No symptoms since Thursday night.” She nods. “That’s good, and consistent with what Sergeant Barnes reported.” Even the mention of Bucky’s name is enough to have your face flooding with heat. Your hands clench, fingernails pressing crescents into your palms. She carries on, explaining what she and her team were able to determine about the chemical. It’s nothing ground-breaking or unexpected, not after having experienced its effects first-hand. A super-powered aphrodisiac with no discernable purpose beyond making people horny. Just the sort of thing you’d expect to uncover in some mad scientist’s underground lab. Why try curing cancer when you can make people fuck instead? “It provokes extreme sexual arousal while simultaneously decreasing inhibitions,” Dr. Singh explains. “It appears to be neutralized by the chemicals released during orgasm. More than that we don’t know. And since the only uncontaminated sample of the chemical was destroyed, it may be all we will know. But the good news is we don’t see there being any lingering physical impacts, though I would like to take another blood sample from you to be sure it’s completely out of your system.” You consent to the blood sample and she heads back to the compound after it’s done, leaving you and Maria alone at your kitchen table. She’s been nearly motionless this entire time, watching you and Dr. Singh converse, but offering nothing in the way of commentary or even acknowledgment. If you didn’t know better you’d think she wasn’t paying attention at all.  But you do know better, and you have no doubt she could repeat word-for-word everything that was said since you opened the door half an hour ago. Regardless, the stony-faced reticence is unsettling and gives you no clue as to how your conversation with her is going to go. And it’s this conversation you’re really worried about. After a moment of silence that feels endless, Maria lets out a big, heaving sigh, her shoulders dropping as she relaxes into her seat. “Well, that was awkward.” Oh. That’s how your conversation is going to go. It’s so not what you expected her to say and yet so completely like her that a shocked giggle forces its way out of your mouth. She grins at you across the table, but you feel your own smile fade. “God, Maria, I’m so sor—” “If you’re about to apologize, so help me God,” she says, with a look on her face that dares you to argue with her. “I apologize, sincerely, on behalf of myself and the entire Avengers organization. This shouldn’t have happened. We have a dangerous chemicals procedure for a reason, for fuck’s sake,” she adds, with a stormy expression that has you pitying the poor techs who loaded the jet. “I mean, it’s no one’s fault, really. I’m sure that case wasn’t purposely unlatched.” You don’t want anyone to get in trouble for this. You feel guilty enough already about Bucky. “Probably not,” Maria concedes. “But regardless, we’re not treating this as business as usual. This isn’t SHIELD. It won’t be swept under the rug and dismissed without investigation.” You’ve read a handful of the documents Natasha leaked during the fall of SHIELD. You can only imagine how many lab accidents were concealed; how many weren’t accidents at all. It’s a dark line of thinking with no end in sight so you change the subject, asking a question that’s been on your mind for a while. “I wanted to ask – who knows about what happened? I know you can’t hide it, obviously, but –” you shrug, wondering exactly how many people you’re going to have to avoid eye contact with in the halls, or around town even. Maria nods. “The Security Council has access to all our files and we have to report this as a safety incident, but no names or identifying details are recorded. And we didn’t say two staff members had intercourse on a quinjet,” she adds wryly. “Just that there was a chemical spill and two individuals were affected. The only people who know the details of what happened and to who are me, the Avengers, and Dr. Singh and her staff. And they’ve all been made very clear on what will happen if they breach confidentiality. Believe me, they won’t tell anyone.” You believe her. “Speaking of the Avengers… What’s the mood there? Am I totally fired?” Maria snorts. “Fired? Because of a costly mistake for which the organization takes full responsibility, resulting in you ingesting an unknown chemical compound? No. You’re not fired.” Okay, when she lays it out like that it makes your fears seem ridiculous. Still… “Seriously, Maria. Should I just quit? Or be reassigned? Somewhere I will never have to look at any of the Avengers ever again, maybe?” you ask, with a cringe. “Are you concerned it will be awkward for you, or them?” “Well, both. But obviously, their feelings would come first in this situation. They’re the Avengers. I'm a secretary.” Maria rolls her eyes at that comment but chooses not to address it. “Well I can’t do anything about your feelings, but I can assure you that you won’t be treated any differently because of this.” You gape at her. “Seriously?” How could they not treat you differently? Maria levels you with a look. “Do you really think this is the strangest thing that has ever happened on that team?” she says, with the distinct air of a woman who has seen and heard too much. You’re not convinced. “Stranger than two of them banging on a quinjet under the influence of a crazy sex drug?” You’re pretty sure if this were the Strange and Unusual Olympics, that would earn you at least a silver medal. Maria doesn’t seem to agree. She straightens her back and takes a breath. “Giant octopus monster in the Thames. That time a wizard transformed Steve into his pre-serum body for a week. Wanda, daily.” She looks at you, eyebrows raised. You have to admit she has a point. “But –” “Last month I walked in on Steve and Sam having sex in a conference room. A couple years ago Barton got wasted during a game of truth or dare and told everyone how much he enjoys getting slapped around by women in leather. There are multiple sex tapes of Tony on the internet.” She pauses, making sure she has your full attention. “Dealing with weird shit and knowing way too much about the people you work with? Pretty much the two things that bind the Avengers together. Welcome to the team.” Once again, she manages to make things seem so simple. You want to believe her. You almost do believe her. There’s just one thing… “What about Bucky? Maybe everyone else can brush it off, but this happened with him. He can’t possibly want to work with me anymore.” “Fair enough,” Maria says. “But I actually spoke to Barnes this morning. He made it very clear he did not want this to impact your employment in any way.” She shrugs. “Like I said. If it’s not a problem for you, it’s not a problem for them. They’re professionals. Well, mostly.” You nod. This conversation has been enlightening – in a few ways – and Maria’s given you a lot to think about. Also a lot to very purposely not think about (Clint! And presumably Laura!). Maria leans back in her seat, considering you for a long moment as you try to process what she’s told you and come up with some sort of response. The silence stretches on until finally, she speaks. “I’ve had a lot of weird, bad sex in my life.” You stare at her, wide-eyed and mouth agape. Luckily, she doesn’t wait for a response. “I know what happened to you wasn’t just a shitty hookup and you have every right to feel however feel about it.” She says, for the first time looking less than perfectly at ease. She takes her time with her next words. “But I guess what I’m trying to say is it doesn’t have to count. Sex doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to.” You nod dumbly, not sure what to say. You feel the sudden intense need to be alone for a while so you can sit with all the new thoughts running through your mind. Maria nods back, face settled again into cool composure. “Okay, no more feelings talk. The point is: you’re welcome to come back to work anytime. FRIDAY’s taking on as much as she can, but an AI is only capable of so much. Even that one. Think about it.” +++ You do think about it. You spend the rest of the day thinking about it. You go for a long walk in the crisp winter air, thinking about it. You journal, thinking about it. You Google “I slept with a co-worker, what now?” in various combinations and read several unhelpful articles, thinking about it. After hours of introspection, what you come up with is this: you love your job. You love your life. You’ve always been cautious, careful to a fault. Never a risk-taker. Until a few months ago, you lived in the same town you were born in. Happy enough, but not exactly satisfied. Until you applied for this job. Until you packed up your life, left behind everything you’d ever known to start over someplace new. And you’ve never regretted it. You finally felt like you had a place where you belonged. Over the time you’ve worked with the team, they’ve become friends, not just-workers and you love getting to know the real people behind the glossy media personas the rest of the world is familiar with. You love the sense of pride you feel, knowing the work you do matters, contributes – even in its own small way – to something as unfathomably huge and worthwhile as world peace. You don’t want to give that up. You can’t. The sex thing? Yeah, that sucks. You may not have dreamt of rose petals and scented candles, but you were pretty determined there’d be love and commitment involved. A partner, not just a person. But Maria is right. Sex doesn’t change who you are. Virginity is a goddamn social construct and this doesn’t have to matter unless you want it to. You had sex for the first time with someone you have feelings for, someone you respect. And maybe the circumstances (weird sex drug, floor of airplane) were less than perfect, but you can’t deny the sex itself felt good (amazing). Better than a random guy that couldn’t locate the clitoris with a GPS and flashing neon lights. You feel like you’ve been given permission to let this go. To let it be something that happened, but not something that defines you. Just one moment out of millions. You know it’s not that simple. That one illuminating conversation isn’t enough to silence the part of you that still feels ashamed, embarrassed, and heartbroken, but it's a start. A new perspective and one that has you feeling a hell of a lot better than you did just a few hours ago. There’s just one roadblock in this journey of self-enlightenment to being a mature, grown-ass woman who is handling this like a fucking champ – Bucky. But if what Maria said is true, and you have no reason to think she’d lie to you, then maybe that’s not such a roadblock after all? If everyone, even Bucky, can go on as usual (whatever that is with the Avengers), then you’re basically in the same place you were before all this: hiding your unrequited feelings for a man that doesn’t think about you at all. Just with the added aspect of remembering what his body felt like on top of you, inside you. How his tongue felt in your mouth, and on your… Anyway! You’ve decided. You’re going back to work and it’s going to be totally fine. You’re all going to be adults about this. Having drug-fueled sex on a plane is basically the Avengers equivalent of getting too drunk at the office Christmas party anyway, and many an administrative assistant before you has done that and come out the other side. You call Maria and inform her you’ll be back at the compound on Monday, and you can’t help but think there’s a little note of pride in her crisp acknowledgment.  +++ Sunday passes in a blur of nervous anticipation. By the end of the day, you’re nearly crawling out of your skin, desperate to get the embarrassing part over so you can move on with your life and dreading it at the same time. When you wake up Monday morning there’s a significant part of you that wants to call the whole thing off and stay in your apartment for the rest of your life. You remind yourself you did nothing wrong, that you have every right to your job and your life, but apprehension only grows as you get ready for work and begin the drive to the compound. As the heavy metal gates slide shut behind your car you’re suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling you’ve made a terrible mistake. But after a brief almost-breakdown in the parking garage, you manage to pull yourself together and get out of the car. You make your way to your office in the Avengers’ private wing without running into anyone other than security and custodial staff. It is eight in the morning after all, and it’s not like the Avengers usually congregate outside your office like a welcoming committee, so you’re not sure why you felt like you’d be seeing them all at once. They might not even all be in the building – you’ll have to get Maria to update you on any new missions that have been assigned while you were off. You pass an hour or two catching up on emails and reaching out to a few different contacts around the compound, but no one on the team. The first person you see who knows why you really were off is Sam, making a smoothie in the kitchen when you come in for your morning tea. You steel yourself for the ensuing awkwardness, but it doesn’t come. Sam doesn’t behave any differently than he normally would, acknowledging you with a friendly smile tossed over his shoulder as he prepares ingredients. “Morning,” he greets, handing you a mug from the cupboard over his head as you fill up the electric kettle. “Thanks.” Sam nods, immediately launching into a story about his weekend that has you almost in tears from laughing so hard. “I don’t know why you’re laughing,” he scolds playfully. “I was stuck in that tree for like ten minutes while Tony took pictures, even though it's his fault I ended up there since he designed the damn wings. Anyway, how was your weekend?” he asks with an expression of exaggerated innocence. If it was anyone else it might feel rude or intrusive or even mean. But Sam, all easy charm and genuine warmth, has a way of making people take themselves less seriously, and you find you’re smiling despite yourself as his smirk splits into a cheeky grin. You manage to hold eye contact for a couple of seconds before you’re both laughing uncontrollably, the utter absurdity of the situation suddenly hitting you as actually kind of funny instead of completely tragic. “Yeah, it was alright. Just hung around the house, really,” you tease, catching your breath, and the conversation seamlessly turns to what you’ve both been watching on Netflix. You’re still smiling when you sit back down at your desk. You know there are bound to be awkward moments ahead, but the relief of knowing things can be normal, that the awkwardness will pass, has a tension leaving your body you’d been holding onto for days. Over the next couple days as you go about your normal tasks and routines you run into members of the team in ones and twos. Some are more uncomfortable than others – you and Bruce share a particularly stilted exchange until Tony barges into the room – but after the initial acknowledgment, almost everyone carries on like it never happened. Almost everyone, because by the middle of the week there’s still one person you haven’t seen or heard from. Bucky. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed. Sure, you’re not exactly eager for that first – almost certainly uneasy – interaction. But at the same time, all you want is to move on and put this behind you and you don’t think you can do that until you’ve seen him. Until you’ve assured yourself he really is okay, and okay working together. The longer you go without seeing him, the more you begin to wonder if he’s really as fine with you being back as Maria said he was. If he truly wasn’t bothered, wouldn’t you have run into him before now? It’s not like Bucky was a social butterfly before, especially not with you, but you work with him in the building where he lives – it’s rare to go this long without at least seeing him in passing, outside of times he’s on a mission. And he isn’t on a mission – you checked. The sense of acceptance you’ve built around what happened on the jet is fragile, and relies almost entirely on knowing Bucky is alright, that he doesn’t blame you, or hate you, or feel disgusted by you. If none of that is true, you can’t move on. At least, not while continuing to work with the team. It wouldn’t be right. Each day, that acceptance weakens as it becomes clear Bucky is intentionally avoiding you. He must be. The agonizing waiting game finally ends on Thursday in a conference room. You’re tidying up after a meeting, gathering pens and water glasses, when Bucky turns the corner into the room, eyes glued to the tablet he holds in front of his face. At least, until he notices the room isn’t empty and his eyes snap to you. You’ve been imagining this moment for days now – seeing Bucky again for the first time. You’ve crafted and perfected so many scenarios of how it might play out – maybe you’ll be cool and aloof, brush it off like it’s no big deal, like you haven’t thought about it at all. Or maybe you’ll crack a joke like Sam would, and Bucky will laugh and tease you back and the tension will be broken and everything will be fine. In the moment, when it actually happens, all you can do is stare. Bucky looks – not well, really, and it squeezes something in your chest to see him this way. You’ve been around him before when he’s having a downswing and it’s not as bad as that, but there are dark circles under his eyes that speak to sleepless nights, and a stiffness in the way he holds himself, as though every muscle is tensed. It makes you want to hold him. To wrap him in your arms until that tension bleeds out of his body. But that’s the last thing Bucky would want, considering you’re likely the source of the tension. Your eyes find his and he holds your gaze for a moment – just a moment. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression, but he clearly doesn’t like it because his brows furrow as he turns on his heel and leaves the room. And just like that, you’re back on the quinjet, naked and trembling on the cold floor as Bucky bolts from the room without looking back. The rejection is clear, unmistakable. You’re fully clothed but you may as well be stark naked for how vulnerable you feel in that moment. You can’t help the tears that gather in your eyes and spill over as you stand there staring at the open door like an idiot. You roughly swipe a hand over your face to brush them away and make a hasty retreat to your office. The day passes in a fog as you try not to break down at your desk. The dam breaks the minute you step through your apartment door as the tears you’ve been holding back for hours come flooding out. You fall to your knees and you know you’re overreacting. You tell yourself it’s probably a misunderstanding. Bucky realized he’d forgotten something. Or maybe he was just surprised to see you, wasn’t ready to talk to you yet and had to leave, but not because he hates you. Your mind clings to the idea, latches onto it like a lifeline, even as your body continues to drown – sadness like physical pain in your chest, throat sore from deep, heaving sobs. You calm down eventually, mind winning out over body at last, but the crying has you feeling a little hollowed out. You fill the space with food and mindless media consumption, telling yourself you’ll feel better after a night of sleep. +++ You do feel better in the morning, thank God. You’ve successfully convinced yourself what happened yesterday had to be a misunderstanding. Maria wouldn’t lie to you about what Bucky said, and honestly, it’s self-centred to think just the sight of you is enough to scare the Winter Soldier out of a room! You head into the office feeling a little uneasy still, but mostly okay. That feeling lasts until lunchtime. You’re taking your lunch break in the common room, eating a sandwich and watching an episode of House Hunters with Natasha. She’s in the middle of a sentence, noting the lack of defensible positions and the overabundance of wood panelling in the mid-century bungalow on-screen when Steve and Bucky enter the room. They’ve clearly just come from the gym, likely looking for a post-workout snack. They amble into the room, playfully shoving at each other as they head for the kitchen. You can hear Alpine trotting in behind them, meowing for the treats she knows she’ll get if Bucky’s in the kitchen. Bucky’s hair is tied up in a messy, damp bun and his t-shirt clings to his torso with sweat, toned muscles on display. Steve’s there too. You see the moment Bucky realizes you’re there partly because you can’t look away from him – the shadows under his eyes are still dark, but his face is flushed and lively from the workout – and also because his step very noticeably falters and the teasing expression is wiped from his face, the colour quickly draining from his cheeks. If yesterday could be brushed off as a misunderstanding, this confirms you were right to fear the worst. Bucky was avoiding you, doesn’t want to be around you. He mumbles something back to Steve you aren’t able to discern and turns back the way he came. Instantly you feel your face heat with shame. Now Bucky can’t stand to even be in a room with you and other people? Exactly how uncomfortable do you make him? Does he think you’ll leap up from the couch and throw yourself at him? You catch Steve and Nat sharing a look out of the corner of your eye, but you have no idea what it means. You feel thoroughly wrong-footed, as though everyone in the room knows something you don’t. Something you probably don’t want to know. They make an effort to gloss over Bucky’s hasty exit, Natasha more successfully than Steve, but you just want to get back to the privacy of your office as quickly as possible so you can ruminate in peace. Or, if not in peace, at least in solitude. Choking down the rest of your lunch in record time, you make your escape – by a different route than Bucky, lest you accidentally cross paths again and he’s forced to jump out a window to escape you. TGIF, you think. +++ That weekend is rough. You journal, you pace, and you think and cry and eat and Google. Finally, you end up spilling your guts to an EAP counsellor (under the guise of a drunken hook-up between co-workers) and you come to the conclusion: fuck James Buchanan Barnes. Yeah, he’s smart and kind and strong and beautiful and maybe you’re a little in love with him, but he is just a man and you have cried over him enough. You didn’t ask for this! You didn’t mean for it to happen! And it’s not like you forced him to have sex with you. It’s not like he was cowering in the corner while you were throwing yourself at him. If anything, you were equally taken advantage of by each other – by that stupid fucking chemical and whatever mad scientist created it! He was the one who said he didn’t want your employment affected by what happened! As though running screaming from the room whenever he sees you doesn’t affect your employment. The least he could do is try to be a little more subtle in his distaste. Whether he finds you unattractive or not he should be able to treat you like a human being – not some sort of leper. And if he can’t do that, he can say it to your face! You don’t deserve this, no matter how Bucky feels about what happened. Which is exactly what you’re going to tell him when you see him on Monday. And you will see him. Bucky Barnes might be an internationally feared former assassin who evaded detection for over seventy years, but you manage his calendar. He’s got a meeting in the morning with PR and you’ll be waiting outside to catch him as soon as they’re done. On God, by noon on Monday, this will be resolved once and for all. +++ Ten a.m. sharp you’re standing outside the PR office suite, reminding yourself why your anger is justified and trying to hold onto the feeling itself. You’re more than a little afraid that the minute you see Bucky you’re going to forget all about confronting him and just start crying. But you didn’t spend hours curating a fuck you, girl power playlist and practicing speeches in the mirror to admit defeat so quickly. You’re standing directly opposite the glass doors, no opportunity for hiding – or for Bucky to hide from you – so you see each other the minute he approaches the door. There’s a flash of surprise on his face, quickly turned to grim resignation as he opens the door. He obviously knows you’re there to see him and he stops outside in front of you. “Hi,” he says, avoiding your eyes and staring at his feet instead. “Hey. Can I talk to you for a minute?” He nods, gesturing down the hall and you follow him a few feet to a small seating area, out of view of any offices. He stands back and finally makes eye contact, looking a little like he’s staring down a firing squad instead of an unarmed civilian in a fuzzy pink cardigan. You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts and remembering the plan. You ask him the big question. “Do you want me to quit?” Bucky shakes his head almost frantically. “No, I – no,” he says. You stare at him, wait for him to continue speaking but he just stands there, hands in his pockets looking miserable. ‘No.’ That’s all he can say? No? No! Something inside you snaps, your carefully prepared speech dissolving in your mouth like sugar as words start to pour out of you. “Really? Because Maria told me you didn’t want me to be reassigned so I thought we were good. But then you avoided me for days and the two times we did see each other you looked like you were going to be sick and practically ran out of the room, which makes me think you’re definitely not okay with me being here.” “I—” “And like, okay, that’s fine, but I wish you would have just said that? Because I get it, I do. This is super weird and obviously, you didn't want to sleep with me and I know I'm not like, a supermodel or even a JC Penny catalogue model, so yeah, you wish it could have been literally anyone else but you don't have to run away from me like I have some sort of flesh-eating disease, okay?” “That’s—” “Because that really sucks, Bucky. And not just because I’ve had a crush on you forever or because it was my first time but because I actually really just like and respect you as a person and I know you didn’t like me even before all this so maybe you don’t believe me, but I didn’t mean for this to happen. I promise. I would never try to take advantage of you – of anyone – like that and –” “What?” he interjects sharply. It cracks through the air like a whip, finally snapping you out of whatever insanity possessed you to say all that. To say all that. Oh, fuck. “What do you mean crush? Wait, first time?” Bucky’s eyes are wide and he’s staring intently at your face. Your own face burns and your hands shake as you try to come up with something – anything – to say. Thirty seconds ago you couldn’t shut up! The silence stretches unbearably long as Bucky stands there looking at you, waiting for you to answer him. It looks like he’s about to speak again when an alert sounds from both of your phones. “Oh, thank God,” you breathe. It’s the unmistakable tone that signals a drop-what-you’re-doing-and-Avengers-fucking-assemble emergency. You’ve never heard a sweeter sound in your life. Bucky holds your gaze for another moment before he swears and jogs off down the hallway, tossing you a conflicted look over his shoulder as he goes. +++ The emergency turns out to be a false alarm; some new system Tony was working on triggered it accidentally, so you got away from Bucky and nobody died. All in all, a pretty successful day. Except for the part where you confessed your feelings to the man you’ve been crushing on for months and told him he was the first person you’ve ever had sex with. During what was supposed to be a mature, adult conversation where you asserted yourself calmly and professionally instead of projectile word-vomiting like the girl from The Exorcist swallowed a dictionary and spat it back up. If there was ever a chance you and Bucky could move past what happened on the quinjet and co-exist in mutual agreement to never mention it again, it’s gone now. There’s no dramatic breakdown this time, no floods of tears or self-loathing or panic. The last week and a half has been an exhausting roller coaster of emotions and honestly, you just can’t anymore. It is what it is. It happened and there’s no going back. You can’t summon up the energy to freak out. Tomorrow you’ll go to Maria’s office and request a transfer. Maybe the UN has an opening for a secretary in Antarctica. But tonight you will wear flannel pyjamas, eat greasy pizza, and watch the Great British Bake Off, where everything is lovely and nothing hurts. Just as you’ve finished turning your couch into a cozy oasis, laying out your softest blankets and fluffiest pillows, there’s a knock at your door. Right on time. You grab your wallet and open the door, a polite smile on your face for your usual delivery man. But that’s not who’s standing on your porch. It’s Bucky. Pizza box balanced in one hand, the other fussing with his hair. “Hey,” he says, voice soft and almost hesitant. You step back, silently letting him inside and shutting the door behind him. “I didn’t realize you delivered for Ronzoni’s now,” you say, cringing immediately after. Bucky looks at the box in his hand like he forgot he was holding it. “Oh, uh, yeah, I got here the same time as the delivery guy.” “I see that.” He hands you the box and you lay it on the floor behind you. “Thanks,” you tell him awkwardly, eyes fixed on the floor in front of you. “Look, Bucky, I’m really sor—” “I do like you,” he blurts and your eyes flash to his, wide in shock. “What?” Bucky shifts on his feet, stands a little straighter and nods, more to himself than to you it seems. Like he’s steeling himself to face something difficult. “I do like you. I’ve always liked you. Just took me a while to figure it out. It’s been a minute. Haven’t had a crush in about seventy years; I’m rusty,” he says with a sheepish smile, ducking his head and looking at you through his lashes. His smile fades. “And you’re always so nervous around me. I thought maybe you were scared of me. Or hated me, maybe, for everything I did when –” “Oh, Bucky, no,” you can’t help but interrupt, can’t let him finish that sentence. You haven’t really processed anything else he’s said, but you can’t bear the idea of him thinking you blamed him for being abused and controlled for decades. “Yeah, I was a fucking idiot,” he says with a humourless laugh. “I know you’d never – but I didn’t then.” His face softens as he looks at you. “And even though it was ‘cause you were scared of me, I still thought you were so cute when you’d start running at the mouth. Stumbling over your words and getting all embarrassed,” he says, with a fond little smile. You groan, hiding your face behind your hands, thinking of all the times you’ve looking like an idiot in front of him. Bucky chuckles warmly and tugs your hands down but doesn’t let them go, holding them in a loose grip. You can’t believe this is happening. He likes you. He likes you and has liked you for months. He likes you and he’s holding your hands and staring at you with an affection you couldn’t have captured in your wildest fantasies. Bucky’s smile turns a little wistful. “I was so jealous of everyone else. How easy you were with them. I wanted you to be like that with me, all happy and cheeky and –” he cuts himself off. “Then that fucking drug. If there was any doubt about how I felt about you that definitely made it clear. That was something else, doll.” His grip on your hands tightens before he lets them go. “You’re so – that shit you said about not being a model or whatever? I couldn’t care less. You’re perfect,” he says, voice intense. He shakes his head a little, like he’d gotten off track. “And then it hit me. This goddamn revelation for me was probably the worst moment of your life, and I fucking liked it. I felt like a creep, like a fucking monster. And that’s why I avoided you. I thought I was doing you a favour, staying away. It wasn’t ‘cause I hate you or I blame you or anything. Pretty much the opposite.” You laugh softly in disbelief, shaking your head at how wrong you were. How wrong you both were, all this time. “I thought maybe it reminded you of Hydra,” you tell him. “You know, losing control, being forced to do something you didn’t want to – not that I think what we did is the same as being forced to kill people, obviously. I just mean, the principle of it –” Bucky kindly cuts you off. “I know what you mean. But trust me,” he says. “That’s not how I feel. At all. I mean, yeah, that’s not really how I wanted things to go. I hate that that was your first time. I hate that it was my first time I can clearly remember. But I’m glad it was you. What Hydra did to me and what happened to us, what we did together – doesn’t even compare. I don’t regret it.” And finally, with those words, spoken with such undeniable sincerity, you feel the last piece of the puzzle fit into place. Even with everything he’s already said it still felt too good to be true. Like it could be a confession and a rejection at the same time. An acknowledgement that if you’d figured it out sooner you could have been together, but you got the pieces so mixed up that there’s no sorting them out. Better to throw them away and pick a new puzzle. “I don’t regret it either,” you tell him. “I wish it had happened differently, but I’m really, really happy it was you, Bucky.” He looks at you, soft and sweet and a little sad and you can’t help but throw yourself at him, finally giving in to an urge you’ve felt a hundred times, wrapping your arms around his neck. He hugs you back, holding you just as tightly as you hold him. You feel warm and bright and happy, bubbling over with joy that spills out of you with a giggle as you pull back just enough to look him in the face with a dopey grin. “So… you like me?” He laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, doll, you been listening?” “I can’t believe you’ve had a crush on me for months. You never speak to me!” Bucky snorts. “Hey, we don’t all let our anxiety spill out our mouths like you.” You glare at him but he does have a point. “That’s fair,” you acknowledge, stepping out of the warm circle of his arms to give him a long look, crossing your arms. “So for months I thought you didn’t like me, and you thought I didn’t like you. And the whole time we were super into each other?” Bucky shoves his hands in his pockets, rocks on his heels, nodding. “Yep.” “Sounds like we’re pretty dumb, huh?” “Sounds like we’re perfect for each other,” he says, leaning in close with a grin. You get a sudden glimpse of the charmer Bucky must have been back in the day and it takes everything you have not to kiss him. “You wanna stay for a while?” you ask. You don’t want him to go yet, but you don’t want to keep standing up in front of your door either. “I’m watching Great British Bake Off. And you did pay for the pizza so it’s technically yours.” “You askin’ me on a date?” You think he means it to come out as flirty and confident, but he says it with a shy, boyish expression that’s somehow so much more attractive. You nod, smiling. “Yeah, I guess so. I wish I wasn’t wearing pyjamas, but…” “Hey, pizza and GBBO? I wish I was wearing pyjamas,” he counters, picking up the pizza and letting you lead the way to the living room where he sets the box down on the coffee table. You sit with Bucky on your couch, sharing a blanket and stuffing your faces as you talk about your favourite Bake Off contestants and it feels right. Feels like the start of something really, really good. And to think, you have an evil, horny scientist to thank for all your current happiness. Welcome to the Avengers. A/N: If you have made it to the end - thank you for reading! This is definitely the piece I struggled with most and I am very open to feedback! This part is so long and so sexless lol so I’m very interested to see how it reads re: pacing, interest, cohesiveness, etc. Feel free to like/comment/reblog and let me know! My ask box is also open to anons if you have feedback but you’re feeling shy! I definitely wanna hone the skill of series-writing as I have a loooooot of longer ideas. Part 3, which will be shorter (I think!) and definitely sexier, will be out in a few days 😚 

[parismemes]

THINGS I’VE SAID ON DISCORD (OCTOBER EDITION) AS SENTENCE STARTERS.

“tell me everythng.” “HEHEHEHEHEHEHE” “i have read every single one of them and do not intend to stop” “i on principle only like songs that go hard” “I DIDNT THINK IT WAS GOING TO BE THAT SAD WHAT THE FUCK” “heehoo. water boy.” “why i always sleep through this shit i hate it here” “gacha games count as gambling” “im also there. im laughing” “u r doing so much math and im just like hehe money” “what the fuck what the fuck NOOO what the fuck im dfgjhhfjgdhjfgkjdkghjd” “what a traumatic backstory” “I CAN SEE YOU READING MY MESSAGES IM GONAN GET FINESSED OUT THE FUCKIN WINDOW“ “THAT’S not good!” “if hes a fraid of dogs that sounds like a him problem” “i honestly deserve recognition for the absolute shit i just pulled off” “YES FUCK YEAH YEAH YEAH HELL YEAH FUCK YEAH HELL FUCKIN YEAH WOOOOOOOOO YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!” “why the fuck would you want that” “yeah hes my only one true love” “by a few i of course mean like 600″ “no one fucking appreciate me” “thank you ___ for being the only person who appreciate me” “i reveal it in pieces and make you put it together like a puzzle” “im smart and never regret it“ “see, i just dont think thats right” “i will continue dangling it in front of your face like a scientist dangling bait in front of a fish (who is also in a maze)” “hes actually like an absolute fucking nerd a complete fool a fucking dumbass” “sorry your message glitched and i cannot read. anyway back to my leverage over you which is forcing you into a corner,” “it's not extortion because i don't know what extortion means” “why do they talk like exes. its because they are exes” “TIME SENSITIVE QUESTION PLEASE RESPOND” “he's a content creator he'll be fine” “what does this mean? but yes” “NICE NICE NNICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE” “for future record ___ just used the word poggers” “look at all these fuckin blondes” “its only been like a week and a half at most” “hes doing it out of affection” “ISNT THIS THE FUNNIEST SHIT YOUVE EVER SEEN” “you are terrible and also the worst” “i was going to send it at midnight but i got distracted trying to figure out the most barebones way to say happy birthday without sounding weird” “do you think i get punished more or less if i do sins” “i dont think the sins count as extra points if you commit them on the way to hell” “run over pedestrians” “i am slowly descending into insanity today, as a hobby” “you are a shit boy. a little shit boy go eat boxes“ “it's ok. we can figure it out later” “i didnt notice at first but it is in fact All The Fuck Over” “ITS BEEN OVER 12 HOURS” “hey guys just turns out we might have a ✨ gas leak ✨” “im sure if we put our braincells together we can figure SOMETHING out” “curious georg” “thank god. i could and would have argued this for several hours” “i think the worst thing ive heard today is someone calling the movie enchanted a reverse isekai” “i should not and will not stop” “i was RIGHT AHHAHAHAHAHAGAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA” “that wasnt a question you read it wrong” “i have no idea who this is but that wont stop me” “THIS MAN REALLY SAID HEAD EMPTY WHAT IS MONEY” “sometimes i say things and its best to just pretend you know what i mean” “WOT THIS” “I DONT WANT PEE ON MY BED“ “tired of all these stupid fuckin plants” “could you even really consider jelly filled donuts donuts?” “actually everything is real” “if you eat cereal for dinner, you're not having fucking breakfast” “i think my in real life superpower is that i have freakishly fast metabolism” “i dont care if you are evil you are MY TYPE” “you dirty criminal” “is a dessert item a dessert if it isn't eaten after dinner? discuss” “ok im done for the Right Now” “found a concerning orb. in the sky.” “HOW DID YOU KILL THEM” “why do i do this to myself why do i keep doing this” “the only simp here is me” “I No Longer Wish To Know!“ “DID THEY JUST END AN ENTIRE SPECIES” “WE ARE DETERMINED” “this is also really funny by virtue of the fact that these people are all fucking british” “they throw rocks at me and say we want the himbo” “THE CONTEXT IS IMPORTANT HERE” “its something that i SPECIFICALLY am passionate about” “hanburnger?” “thats just what living with siblings is like” “howd she get there? fuckin beats me dude idk” “i remember everything i am like a shark with an abnormally good memory” “i am sorry that you are predictable” “Hey Guys, Just Checkiing In To Make Sure You Got My Joke, Just Making Sure, I Just Wanted To Check In And See If You Got The Joke, Because I Was Afraid You Wouldnt Get It, So Im Just Checking In,” “i marked your worm” “what are you gonna do. unsend whatever you send me? i am Shaking in my fuzzy socks rn” “you Know i hate the idea of being wrong” “You Did Not Need To Stroke His Ego” “i am too stupid to live and if i was not vaccinated my genes would have no chance of being passed on because i would be dead” “~the oldest anarchy server in minecraft history~” “am i shaking because of adrenaline or rage.... who can tell” “I HAVE SO MUCH ADRENALINE IN ME BUT ITS 1 AM IN THE MORNING” “jokes on u i fucking HATE ___ i think hes the worst” “JUST IMPULSE MADE BROWNIES AT 9 PM HEYOOOO” “cry about it more bitch boy maybe piss your pants while ur at it” “im getting so casually toxic back to toxic gamer boys” “itll be fiiiiiine” “we are all stupid mice who take turns being the piper” “queen of bargains is me i am the queen of bargaining and scoring deals” “its not TECHNICALLY a direct threat but also yes it is” “i see a demon i go possess me then bitch boy u wont” “AAAA THE FUCKIN VIIIIBES” “IM NOT GOING TO STOP BEING MAD ABOUT IT”

[jasmehraj]

We are just friends

A song fic where Adrien is an honorary brother and Gabriel is an honorary uncle. Yes you read it right. Friends by Anne Marie and Marshmallow

_______________________________________________________________                                                                            

Ohhh Oh ohhh woh,

oh ohhh ohh woh,

Marinette was happily singing while doing embroidery of beautiful tulips 🌷on her newest commission. The trap door opened to reveal Adrien but she didn't notice. He came from behind her and covered her eyes,"Adrien let go, this commission is very important."

"Don't you like to see your romantic soulmate M'lady." Her eye twitched. She sighed and covered her face with her hands.

Ooohhh oohh oohh woh,

Oooo oooo Oooo ohh Woh.

Damian had just landed in Paris to see his beloved. She of course didn't know. He made his way towards Le Grande Hotel of Paris. He was standing tapping his foot on the floor impatiently while Dick was checking in.

"Damikins." A voice exclaimed. He growled in frustration and dodged as yellow blur tried to hug him. Chloe Bourgeois was kissing the ground as she got up and groaned with pain.

"This is not a way to greet me damikins."

You say you love me,

I say you crazy,

We're noting more than friends.

"Adrien stop that." She said clearly frustrated as Adrien confessed for a hundredth time this week. "Did you not like the flowers M'lady? Or do you want a real kiss instead of a chocolate kisses?" Adrien had a cheeky smile on his face. They had revealed each other's identity in the last battle. Who happened to be her honorary uncle Gabriel. Adrien is still stuck on the soulmate thing. She sighed a bone crushing sigh.

"Bourgeois, we were over this. I do not love you and you do not love me." His patience was wearing thin. "Oh come on damikins, who else will be good enough for you?" Dick was trying to control his laughter but he was miserably failing. The traitor Damian thought.

You're not my lover,

More like a brother.

I know you since we were like 10.

Marinette had first met Adrien when she was 10. Her mother came with him to get some pastries from the most famous bakery of Paris. They became friends quickly. She often went to play with him to his eyes where she met Gabriel. She gushed about how she wanted to be a fashion designer like him someday. Both Emilie and Gabriel had smiled at her. They both winner each other's families heart very easily. "Adrien you are like a brother to me I am like a sister to you and as a matter of fact I have a boyfriend." He was getting difficult to handle. "Keep telling yourself that M'lady." He winked and grinned. She sighed, today was going to be a very long day.

Damian met Chloe at a gala. No matter how many times he tried to lose her, she somehow came back he is surprised that he didn't kill her as he was fresh out of the league. "I have a girlfriend bourgeois and she is much more worthy than you." This was getting ridiculous. Normally he wouldn't insult her but he was just so done. "I am much more worthy than anyone else on the planet ditch her." She said flipping her hair. "No." He plainly replied and walked towards his room.

YEAH,

Lila was getting annoying with time and her classmates also showed their level of stupidity. So, she pulled out the big guns. She recorded her lies, her threats and the amount of evidence on ladyblog was laughable if not sad. She called her clients who happened to be the people that she lied about. She and all her clients threw restraining orders and law suits on her face. She was confirmed to be working with hawkmoth. If Marinette used kwamis help to record her conversation with hawkmoth, well, no one needs to know that. Lila spilled the beans that hawky was actually uncle Gabriel.

They were made aware of the situation of Paris by Ladybug. One day when they were casually sitting in the cave when an emergency alert came from the computer. "It's the watchtower." They all went through the Zeta, only to see a girl in bright red suit handing green lantern his ass. That's how he met her.

Don't mess it up,talking that shit,

Only gonna push me away,

That's it.

She was getting anxious with every growing second. It took everything in her yo not punch him right there, in his pretty little face. She took deep breaths to calm down. Sure she loved him. He is her best friend but this was getting ridiculous. "Adrien get out. I need to finish this commission today."

Damian glared at Chloe once more as she tried to kiss him again. "Stop that Bourgeoise." "Stop what Damikins?" "I have been blessed with a name, use it." He went inside his room and locked it. "Having problems, Little D?" The idiot dick had the audacity to laugh. "Tt. I am going to take Habibiti to a date tomorrow. It's our 3 year anniversary." He plainly said ignoring the starry look in his brother's eyes. "But I need you to make sure that Bourgeois doesn't crash my date....." He added reluctantly. "The magic words." Dick said not looking up from his phone, trying to look serious but the smirk on his face gave it away. "Tt. Please Grayson. Happy now." He growled out. "Yes." He said, still grinning like an idiot. Damian huffed and started his preparation for his date.

When you say you love me,

That makes me CRAZY.

Here we go again.....

Marinette was sewing when there was a knock on the trap-door. "M'lady, here you go." Marinette whipped her head to face him. He was standing there, covered in flour with odd shaped macaroons in his hands. She decided not to comment. She got back to work. He looked at her clearly not happy, "Purrrrincess, I made macaroons for you." Still nothing. He frowned,"Purrincess." "I'mmabusy. Getlost." He didn't understand her word vomit."Repeat it again bugaboo." She started the music and sang:

Damian was reserving everything for his anniversary when Chloe came in. No, he didn't give her permission. He simply said,"Get out." She looked like she was going to argue, but he threw a bat-glare her way which made her recoil a bit. Key word A BIT. He stood up and used his finger to point at her as he sang:

Don't go look at me

With that look in your eye.

"But M'lady."

"Damikins, I-"

They continued, shutting them:

You're really ain't going

away without a fight!

"Marinette you want me to sing with you?" She ran a hand through her hair.

"Oh Damikins stop it." He growled.

And they continued singing.

You can't be reasoned with,

I'm done being polite.

"Marinette your voice is beautiful. You wrote it yourself?" His comment fell on deaf years.

"Damikins. Where did you get this stupid song from?"

They continued singing as they pulled out their phones.

I've told you

1,2,3,4,5,6 thousand times!

She made gestures with her hands. Her phone tinged. It was message from Damian,"Be at the Eiffel tower at 7 tomorrow morning." She smiled.

Damian's phone tinged with a message from his malak. "Ok , but why?"

Chloe chose the moment to interrupt but before she could say anything, his face formed a scowl. He started singing again.

Haven't I made it obvious?

Marinette sang:

Haven't I made it clear?

They both sang with the music. Equally furious. They pushed the respective intruders towards the door.

Want me to spell it out for you?

F-R-I-E-NDS

Adrien took her advice and leaved her alone but she knew that's not the case, he's sitting on the balcony, listening to her. Alya entered her room for girl's night along with Rose, Alex and Juleka. She sang loudly. Her friends humming.

Chloe did leave but Damian sang to himself as the music continued to play. Dick also humming.

Haven't I made it obvious?(Oooh oooh ooh woh)

Haven't I made it clear?(Oooh ooh ooh woh)

Want me to spell it out for you?(Oooh ooh ooh woh)

F-R-I-EN-D-S(Oooh ooh ooh woh)

F-R-I-EN-D-S

Adrien left at that and she sighed in relief. She told her friends about her latest commission and they chatted, played games and soon it was 1 am. Marinette shot,"Guys! we need to sleep. I have to go to Eiffel Tower at 7 tomorrow." "Why girl?" Alya questioned. "No why's or but's sleep now." They all obeyed. No one had enough strength to deal with Mari's wrath as they put it.

Damian was panicking. She is not going to get mad. Will she? He sighed. "Baby bird. Go to sleep. You are going to miss your own date." Dick warned. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Then he went to bed.

Have you got no shame?

You looking insane,

Turning up at my door.

They were sleeping when there was a knock on the trap-door. Marinette was a heavy sleeper, so she didn't wake up by it but Alix did. "Who there?" She sleepily mumbled. "I'm Adrien." The voice, no, Adrien said. "Everyone is sleeping. It's a girls night. Go away sunshine." Alya mumbled from her seat. "But-" Rose woke up and sat at her spot,"You should go Adrien you can hang out with Marinette later." She said in her usual squeaky voice. "We don't want to here." Juleka added.

Damian was peacefully sleeping but it was interrupted by a knock on the door. Both Damian and Dick woke up immediately and assessed the surroundings for any threats. There was another knock on the door followed by a loud,"Damikins..." Both of them sighed.

It's 2 in the morning,

The rain is pouring,

Haven't we been here before?

Marinette woke up to many voices, likely arguing over something. She rubbed her eyes,"What's wrong." She sleepily said between a yawn. "It was Adrien." Alya said. Marinette's eyes shot open as she carefully listened to a light thud on the balcony. It was probably raining outside. She sighed as she went to the balcony, her friends following,"Chat Noir. Last. Warning." She deadpanned. "Ummm... purrincess. I wanted to ask if we could play UM-" He never finished the sentence. Marinette threw a pot on his head. He groaned as he stood up, only to see Marinette standing there, eyes closed WITH ANOTHER POT IN HAND. He ran with his tail between his legs. "Let's go back to sleep." She said yawning and they went back to bed.

Damian didn't open the door,"What do you want?" Chloe's shrill voice came from the other side,"I had a nightmare." "Do you think I care?" He replied, venom lacing his voice. "I am scared of the lightning." She was trying to be intimidating but she was failing. MISERABLY. "We both know that is not true." He deadpanned. "Open please." Damian ignored her and went to his bed. "I have important places to be tomorrow." He said as he pulled out his headphones and played soft music. Dick doing the same with an equally grumpy face. She left eventually and they both dumped the headphones to get some peaceful sleep.

Don't mess it up,

Talkin' that shit,

Only gonna push me away,

That's it!

Damian woke up at about 5 am. He then told Dick his plan and left for Eiffel tower at 5:30 am to set his date.

Marinette was sleeping peacefully. A package arrived her home. Sabine came upstairs and called her,"Marinette there's a package from your boyfriend." Tikki nuzzled her chosen's cheek. She then said in her ear,"Marinette you're late." She immediately shot up. She glared at Tikki but the voice of her mother came again,"Marinette, sweety. There's a package from Damian. Now, fully awake she went downstairs.

Have you got no shame?

You looking insane,

She was greeted by Adrian as she reached her mother. She groaned.

She cut whatever he was going to say,"Have you got no shame you lookin insane. Here we go again." She didn't even look up. Adrien closed his mouth and went back through the way he came from.

Here we go again.

She wrote a note for her friends about where she is going. She opened a package to see a beautiful dress with a note.

7 AM Angel ;)🗼

She hurried to try the dress. She came out,"You are looking beautiful my baby."

Her mother kissed her cheek,"Thank you Mamman."

Her mother did her hair. She was looking like some Chinese princess.

So don't go,

Look at me,

with that look in your eye....

She started her walk towards Eiffel tower. Adrien came just in time for all the girls to come down.

"Sabine, Where is Marinette?"Sabine smiled at them and she said,"She left a note for you."

They nodded and picked the note from the table.

It read:

I am going to the Eiffel Tower. Dami has planned something for me. I don't know what but don't follow me. I can tell he wants to do something special for our 3 year anniversary.

Rose said,"We should go to our home then. We shouldn't disturb them."

Alya nodded,"Let's get change."

Adrien heard everything (well, the fact that she was at the Eiffel Tower) and decided to go after his princess.

You really ain't going away

Without a fight......

You can't be reasoned with, I'm done being polite.....

I've told you, 1,2,3,4,5,6 thousand times!

In the way Adrien was met with Chloe. She was also looking for someone.

"Hey Chloe." Adrien greeted her.

"Hey Adrikins. Where are you going this early?" Chloe asked, eyebrow raised.

"I am going to find Marinette. To the Eiffel Tower." He grinned.

Chloe smiled,"Of course the Eiffel Tower. Let's go together. I am loong forn Damikins. He must have gone there."

They both started their walk to the Eiffel tower together.

Haven't I made it obvious?

Haven't I made it clear?

Want me to spell it out for you,

F-R-I-E-N-D-S

Marinette was about to reach Eiffel tower when someone covered her eyes. She giggled, "Dami."

And threw herself into his arms.

"You came here, for me?" She looked at him with stars in her eyes. "Of course Angel. Happy 3 year anniversary." He kissed her forehead.

"You are looking stunning, angel." He said and felt his cheeks burning hot. "Not so bad yourself handsome." She winked, cheeks dusted pink. She did a twirl."The dress is beautiful Demon."

He chuckled ,"I had to find something that could get approved by MDC. I am honoured that you like it.Bbbbbut you can't go further without this." He pulled out his handkerchief and tied it on her eyes. "No peeking, angel." He said making her giggle.

He led her to the elevator. They reached the top of the tower neither noticing that Chloe and Adrien had seen them. He led her to the special place. He untied the handkerchief. She gasped.

Haven't I made it obvious,

Haven't I made it clear

Adrien and Chloe followed them up,"Why is Maribug with Damikins?" Adrien tried to remember the note but couldn't for some reason. He only paid attention to the fact that she was at the Eiffel Tower. He frowned,"I just heard that she is going to Eiffel Tower and ran to catch up with her before she gets away." "She always denies the fact that you are dating and you are the opposite. What type of relationship do you have?" Chloe huffed at the antics of her two best friends.

They reached the top. Marinette and Damian were standing there. Marinette had covered her mouth with her hands. Damian was smirking. Their was a blanket set up with a pot with beautiful flowers in the middle and a picnic basket. The sun was rising giving a magical effect to such simple thing."It's beautiful dove. Thank you."

       They were very close for both of their tastes. Adrien shouted, "You are looking beautiful M'lady."

Chloe took this as an invitation to speak,"Damikins what are you doing with Mari? What are you doin' with Damikins Maribug?"

Both their expressions became dangerous. Damian started,"Haven't I made it obvious?"

Marinette said,"Haven't I made it clear?"

Then they started singing.

Damian, Want me to spell it out for you?

Marinette, (to spell it out for you?)

Damian, F-R-I-E-N-D-S

Marinette, F-R-I-E-N-D-S

Damian nd Marinette, F-R-I-E-N-D-S

Damian, That's how you fuc*ing spell friends,

Damian nd Marinette, F-R-I-E-N-D-S

Marinette, Get that shit inside your head.

Chloe, No.....

Adrien, no.....

Damian, Yeah...

Marinette, ah...

Damian nd Marinette, F-R-I-E-N-D-S

Damian nd Marinette, We're just friends.

Daminette, So don't go look at me with that look in your eye!

Daminette, You really ain't,

Daminette, going away,

Daminette,without a fight.....

Daminette, You can't be reasoned with,

Daminette, I'm done being polite.....

Daminette, I've told you,

Daminette, 1,2,3,4,5,6 thousand times!

Marinette, Haven't I made it obvious?

Damian, (hasn't she made it obvious?)

Marinette, Haven't I made it clear?

Damian, (She made it very clear?)

Marinette, Want me to spell out for you? Damian, (yeah)

Marinette, F-R-I-E-N-D-S

Damian, (I said F-R-I-E-N-D-S)

Damian, Haven't I made it obvious?

Marinette, (He made it obvious.)

Damian, Haven't I made it clear?

Marinette, (He made it very clear.)

Damian, Want me to spell it out for you?

Damian, F-R-I-E-N-D-S

Marinette, F-R-I-EN-D-S

Daminette, Ohhh oh ohhh oh ohhh oh oh ah

Ah ooh ah, ahhh oh ahh oh

"We are just friends." They finished. Realization came on their faces,"You are dating." They said at the same time. "Sorry Maribug. I didn't know that. A little someone told me that he was dating with you."Chloe said, glaring at Adrien. He coiled into himself. She grabbed his arm and went towards the elevator,"And Damian. I approve. I am going to give you a shovel talk when you come back, treat my BFF right." When they went away. Damian and Marinette burst into laughing."Shall we continue?"She said.

"Of course,"He replied. They leaned closer to kiss. They were kissing unaware of the rest of the world when they heard the click of a camera.

They turned towards the noise to see Red Robin taking photos along with Nightwing, Red Hood, Black Bat, Spoiler, Batman heck even Oracle was there. "I am not going to be surprised if Alfred is here too." Marinette said. They both glared at them. But they didn't even flinch. "No matter how much we try they are not going away." Damian said sighing."I bet they recorded everything. Plus point is we will get adequate photos because Drake is a good photographer."

Marinette also sighed,"Let's eat and hope they will not come nearer." They didn't. Marinette and Damian clinked their glasses together,"Happy anniversary malak." "Joyeux anniversaire mon démon"

________________________________________________________________                                                           

Joyeux anniversaire mon démon: Happy anniversary my demon Malak: angel Habibiti: beloved.

Phew! This is hella long. It's my first song-fic I hope you like it. I will make outtakes or AU versions of this if I get time which I don't have. I did my best, well the best I could make in 2 days. I am very exhausted. Love Maribat. Love, Jasmehraj.

[kayrogers]

sugar baby ][ r. drysdale

50 shades / CEO au

Paring(s): ceo!ransom x curator!reader 

Inspo: the embarrassing amount of ransom smut I've read

Word Count: 2300+

Warning(s): cursing, implied smut, unequal power-dynamic, mention of kinks, and ransom being the hot douche he is

Part: part 1 | part ??

A/N: imma be real with y’all I saw knives out in theaters like three times and I am absolute ransom trash, I apologize

It was already a shitty day.

By the time you had reached Thrombey Selects, you were on the verge of frustrated tears and you hadn’t even gone into your interview yet.

Your day started normal enough, you prepared for your interview and organized your portfolio about ten different times before you could run out the door. Coffee was a better option than actual food for breakfast as the thing really filling your stomach was anxiety. You had only gotten your masters recently and it was a miracle that you were given an interview at Thrombey Selects, only having pulled together minimal art galleries — most of which were done as part of getting your degree in the first place.

Then there was the subway. It felt like it took forever to get to the Lower East Side, especially being sat between two men with no concept of personal space and a snot-nosed two year old giving you a stink eye across the aisle. And to make matters worse you got a coffee spilled on your dress right as you walked off the train. The woman who spilled it actually had the audacity to scream at your face, and say it was your fault, like she wasn’t nose-deep in her phone. Luckily, you had left your apartment super early and you stopped at the nearest department store you could find. A too-expensive little black dress later and you were on your way to Thrombey Selects. And then it down poured and by the time you walked into the building, every inch of you was drenched in water.

You took a deep breath, approaching the receptionist with rain droplets falling from your hair and onto the floor. She looked up at you with an unimpressed gaze, stating that you’d be meeting with a Mr. Drysdale ‘whenever he felt like showing up’. You weren’t exactly sure what that meant but you took it as a chance to dry off.

Stepping away towards an empty hallway you were quick to work, taking up residence next to a decorative plant and ringing your hair out into the pot. Taking off your cardigan was the most work, the grey material sticking to your skin like glue. You undoubtedly looked like a madman, wrestling to get the knit off and finally slicking it onto the floor to reveal the tight little number you bought.

“Quite the weather, huh?” A deep male voice said from behind you.

You jumped and nearly tripped over your heels as you turned around to find the source. That source being a very gorgeous man with piercing blue eyes. He had a confident smirk and carved features, it was almost like he was created by a sculptor in Rome.

“Oh- oh my gosh! Sorry, I um yeah... kinda got caught in the rain.” You blush with a sigh, still taking in the stranger’s appearance.

He dressed sharp, yet casual. Adorning himself in a black turtleneck and pants, accompanied by a brown trench coat and Chelsea boots. The accessory on him which drew the most attention though was a large, flowery scarf. You suddenly felt very aware of the less glamorous state of your dress and reached for the cardigan you so ungraciously plopped on the floor.

“You’re [Y/n], right? [Y/n] [Y/l/n]?” He shamelessly looked you up and down while saying that, only making you blush more.

“How do you know my-“

“Because I’m interviewing you. The name is Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you can just call me Ransom. The help call me Hugh.” His lips curled into a wide smirk and he shook your hand as it changed into a white-toothed grin.

‘The help’ stuck in your head for a moment and nearly made you frown. Any man who talked like that came from money, lots of money. And he clearly wasn’t the type to be polite about it.

“Let’s head up to my office, Honey.” And with that the two of you were on your way.

You could help but feel his eyes on you with every step you took, each click of your heels hitting the floors like a deafening clock. He opens a door to reveal a sleek, modern office room complete with a portrait of Harlan Thrombey on the back wall. You would recognize that face anywhere after reading his novels repeatedly, his picture always located in the back. He was the reason you applied here in the first place, he was passionate and creative. Any man like him would be expected to have a taste for the arts.

Ransom took his seat behind the desk and you sat in front of him gripping your portfolio tightly while he pulled out a Manila file.

“It’s interesting that grandad picked you for the interview... from the looks of it, you’re extremely under qualified compared to the rest of the staff.” Ransom immediately listed off in a twisted tone, dismissive and intrigued all at once.

You pulled a tight-lipped smile, “and yet, here I am.”

He looked up from the file, blue eyes shooting into your own holding intent you could not read. The smirk appeared on his face once more.

“Tell me about yourself, [Y/n]. I want a better understanding.” You suddenly felt small in that moment, you knew what he was actually telling you.

‘Show me why I should give a fuck about you.’

“Uh- well I’m a hard worker. I come from a low income family so I’ve been working since I was 14, in my mom’s diner. I still serve to keep up with rent, but that’s at a classier place no offense to my mom. Art has um always been my passion though... I’m sorry, am I doing this right?” You bit your lip, staring across to see Ransom sporting a sneaky smile you didn’t understand.

“How bout I help you along? Are you prepared for a lot of physical work? How much do you exercise a week? I know you may think being one of our curators is easy work, but I like to run things differently here.” That confuses you.

You know how curation works, hell it’s why you got your degree but the only physical thing you ever did was hang paintings on a wall.

“Uh- I mean I workout when I can but I’m pretty busy. I serve so I get a lot of time on my feet. But, I’m sure I can handle whatever you throw at me!” You answered honestly and watched as he quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you can Miss [Y/l/n]. So... any significant others?” Warmth filled your face at his question.

“No I am single- sorry I just don’t understand what this has to do with being a curator.” You finish with a smile to hide how unsure you were.

Ransom just grins back, “oh that is because I am opting you for a better position. Higher up, better pay grade, and more personal work with me. Here take a look,” He reaches into his desk and pulls out a black file, tossing it to you.

Opening the folder shows you a contract that makes your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

‘Sugar Baby’ is in bold at the top.

Reading through, you become flustered seeing the requirements and perks. The pay is definitely better, but is it worth the submissive role he intends you to play? Calling him ‘Sir’? Your cheeks burn as you keep flicking through, seeing all his kinks and desires written in ink. The particular emphasis on bondage and the sub/dom dynamic made heat pool between your legs. You run your thighs together in instinct, missing how his eyes light up at the response.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now. In fact, my cell is on there, take a few days to look it over and text me. If not, I can still offer you that basic paid internship of a position.” His eyes were intense when they met yours, hiding the gears which were in overdrive behind their deep blue.

He was manipulating you and he wasn’t even shy about it. You were ashamed to think that you didn’t mind it. This was insane! Completely unethical and gross, but you found yourself considering the position all the same. Especially given the rut you found yourself in for quite a while now in the sex department. Graduating and entering your career didn’t leave much time for any sexual encounters, excluding your dominant hand.

“Yeah- uhm I’ll definitely have to get back to you. Not that I’m not interested-“ Your voice betrayed you, coming out quiet and almost naive.

“- it’s a lot. Sleep on it, Babe.” He stood up and you took that as your signal to leave which you were thankful for.

“Thank you, Mr- sorry.. Ransom.” You stood as well, closing the folder and holding it tightly in your hands.

You move to grab your sopping cardigan but he scoops it up before you can.

“I’ll have our dry cleaners handle this, don’t need a potential employee getting pneumonia today. Take my jacket, I’m sure I’ll be getting it back soon.” He matter-of-factly states and hands you his trench coat.

You sling it on, feeling small in the garment made for the clearly muscular man. Even in your heels he towered over you.

“Thank you.” There’s a small smile on your face and you head towards the door.

He walks behind you, his hand finding the small of your back as he opens the office door for you.

“Can’t wait to hear from you, Miss [Y/l/n].” Ransom’s voice is low and his breath fans on the back of your neck as you exit and the door clicks behind you.

-

It was about 11 PM in your apartment as you sat on your bed thinking of perhaps the longest pro-con list you could with a glass of wine in hand.

You had been surfing on your laptop, gathering as much information as you could about Ransom Drysdale and the idea of being a ‘sugar baby’.

‘Pros: He’s gorgeous. We have a lot of the same kinks. It’s a lot more money than the internship. I’ll probably get some nice clothes out of this. I can stop waitressing. He’s really really hot. I have the opportunity to live my dream and work at my dream company, and get some good sex on the side.’ You thought, biting your lip and thinking too much about what he looked like without clothes on.

‘Cons: this is a very unprofessional proposition and definitely a little demeaning. He’s clearly a douche. The ‘help’ comment. I don’t know if he even is that good in bed. I don’t really know this man at all and now I’m basically signing a portion of my life to him. If he doesn’t think I’m good in bed, am I getting fucked over??’ You took a large gulp of wine, eyes focused on the computer screen in front of you.

Ransom’s crystalline eyes stared back at you through the screen, the picture from a Ralph Lauren photo shoot.

“Fuck, he’s a model too.” You muttered with a groan.

Of all the valid negatives that filled your mind, the heat pooling below your stomach at the thought of him taking control of you and your life felt much stronger. Were you a little messed up to even be considering this so heavily?? Fuck, probably.

But even so, the idea tantalized you in such a way that had you reaching for the folder to read through his demands once again.

You didn’t quite like the demands of you working out 4 times a week and completely overhauling your diet. Sure, you probably shouldn’t have been eating the amount of microwaveable and junk foods you usually did but that's none of his business! But perhaps these things could be amenable within the contract? You decided you wouldn’t take part unless they were.

But most importantly, you wouldn’t decide on anything without a good night’s sleep.

-

The next morning you stared at the contract as though it were the most important thing you could sign in your life. A weight settled on your shoulders and you avoided the piece of paper for the rest of the morning. Instead you decided to run through your daily routine, taking a shower and getting dressed for the day. You made yourself a cup of coffee and stared at your small apartment with a slight frown.

Reality rushed through you as you realized the position you were in before this opportunity presented itself. You have tremendous debt from school, even with the scholarships you had received. The shoebox you lived in was already barely affordable while you practically worked yourself to death at the upscale bar-restaurant you were currently employed with. The idea that you could leave all this and live lavishly on the payroll of one of the wealthiest families in New York, was one which had been growing on you enormously.

Impulsively, you grabbed your phone and typed his phone number into your messages.

‘Hello, Mr. Drysdale. Or I guess I should say, Ransom.

This is [Y/n] [Y/l/n]. I have thought over your offer and though I have a few concerns with certain aspects of the contract... I would be glad to talk them over with you and get to an agreement we are both comfortable with. I am indeed interested in this position.

When would you like to go over the details?’

You typed out the message, writing in the most professional manner you could (despite the content of the proposal). Pressing the send button sent a series of sparks through your skin and up your spine, butterflies filling your stomach.

Within minutes though, there was a response.

‘Saturday night. Be ready at 7 PM sharp. I will send a car for you. Can’t wait ;)’

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

taglist(s):

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permanent -

@ultrunning​ @jesseswartzwelder​

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt93

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

Damian had once again tried Selina’s room first only to find she wasn’t there. When Chloe texted him back that she was with them in her suite he was annoyed but not surprised. He really didn’t need the woman telling them things about him. The grin Chloe shot him when she opened the door just made him start cursing internally. When they entered the living area, it got worse.

Selina and Marinette were on the couch and it looked like they were going over designs for Selina’s new wardrobe. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was Luka sitting a bit away from them strumming softly on his guitar and notating it in his notebook. When he said he was going somewhere for inspiration Damian hadn’t even considered that the Grand Paris was an option. He’d done everything he could to stay away from the other boy when his family was present.

“Damian! I’m glad you’re here. I’ve got some of the designs we talked about before sketched out and I wanted to get your opinion on them.” His focus returned to the girls as Marinette was rifling through her notebooks looking for his designs. She really was the most unorganized person he’d ever met.

“I’m sure they’re fine.” Selina and Chloe were both glaring at him but he didn’t care. Marinette had proven to have good judgement on these matters and he was confident the designs were up to her normal standards. There was no reason for him to look at them to say so.

“Maybe but there are a couple things we didn’t go over that I want to get your preference on.” His annoyed sigh brought more glares from the others but Marinette just smiled at him.

“You may as well just give in and get it over with, you know how stubborn Mari is.” Luka didn’t even look up to make the comment. Damian could only roll his eyes.

“Fine, but don’t yell at me like you did last time when I picked something that went against your ‘design sensibilities’.” He wished he were joking about that but Marinette’s hour long tirade about his complete lack of fashion sense was still fresh in his mind. Marinette actually blushed.

“I said I was sorry.” Yeah, sarcastically and more of a ‘I’m sorry you’re such an idiot’ than an apology. He opened his mouth to point that out but caught Luka shake his head out of the corner of his eye. Apparently this was one of those arguments he wasn’t likely to win.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Selina was eyeing him strangely and he didn’t like it. She was far too observant for his peace of mind and it put him on edge. Marinette started going over patterns and cuts and in the end he just asked what she thought was best and went with that. It was easier for everyone that way. About an hour in Luka got up and came over to look at the sketches.

“What do you think about adding some emerald accents to this one? It’ll make his glare stand out that much more if the material compliments his eyes.” If anyone else had said that they’d be bleeding on the floor. As it was Damian was doing everything in his power not to blush.

“Oh! You’re the boyfriend!” Selina’s declaration was enough to make him groan. This was exactly why he stayed away from Luka. “No wonder the boys haven’t figured it out.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He had no idea which one of them she was insulting but if it was Luka she was about to get thrown off the balcony.

“Just that they’re expecting you to have found someone closer to your personality, or for you to act completely different around them. This dynamic is far too inconspicuous for them to catch onto, especially with the way you’re actually getting more stiff when he’s in the room rather than relaxing.” Chloe and Marinette started giggling at that and he just glared at them. They were the only ones who had seen him and Luka in their ‘natural state’ as they liked to call it and made fun of him constantly for refusing to act that way when anyone else was in the room.

“Then how did you figure it out?” Selina actually rolled her eyes.

“Please, name one other person who could say something like that without you assaulting them. You didn’t even fire back verbally.” Damn it. This was going to be a disaster. “Don’t worry Damian, I’m not going to say anything. Even Bruce said they would all wait until you’re ready and I’m not about to subject anyone to that insanity. At the same time, I figured you would want to know that I figured it out.”

“Calm down Dames, she means it. Not to mention I’ve told you that I’m not worried about your family. You’ll understand when you meet my mom.” Damian could only scoff and even Selina was giving him a ‘oh you poor innocent being’ look.

“I assure you there’s no way your mother is anywhere near the level of insane that my family is. Not to mention there’s only one of her and my siblings just seem to keep multiplying.” The girls laughed but Selina was just nodding. None of them understood the shit storm that would be unleashed when they all found out about Luka.

“Yeah, sorry blue boy, but he’s right. Maybe if Jason were locked up somewhere for the initial announcement everyone would survive it but as things stand it’ll be far better if they get over the shock of Damian having a boyfriend before finding out it’s the most laid back person in the universe.”

“Don’t call him that, he has a name.” Selina just gave him a bland look.

“And then there’s the fact that Damian will take every single thing they say about or to you and find an insult in it even if there wasn’t one intended. There will be bloodshed and I’m sure neither of you wants that.”

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[skiller0dani]

Ouch | Timothee Chalamet

M A S T E R L I S T

smut | college au requests info wanna be on a Timmy taglist? click here

“Why the hell did you take drama?” Caroline asks you, and you shrug. Honestly you just needed to fill your credit hours with another elective and it was either drama, or extensive art history. You’re not super interested in art history so you chose the first of the two options. “Seemed fun?” You shrug as you lay back on your dorm bed. You share the dorm with your best friend Caroline, you didn’t meet her until freshman year but you clicked right away. Ever since then you’ve requested to be housed together- you’d go insane without her. “Professor Keahey is a nightmare.” She snickers, pointing to the name of the professor on the course sheet. You groan, grabbing at the sheet- you should have taken art history. Almost nobody that has Keahey passes his damn class, he expects everyone in that class to act as well as Tom Hanks on their first goddamn day.

“He’s also a pervert.” She shrugs and you roll your eyes while inwardly screaming. There have been rumors of girls getting groped in that class, plus he’s constantly looking at their breasts and saying inappropriate things.  “Is it too late to drop the class?” You ask and Caroline laughs as she ties her hair back into a ponytail. “Yeah idiot, the class starts in like 30 minutes.” She laughs and you check your watch before dragging yourself off the bed. You pull your bag over your shoulder before heading out the door. “Slap him if his hands start wandering!” Caroline shouts just as the door is closing. The last semester of your senior year is going to seriously suck if you have to deal with Keahey every single damn day. 

You drag your feet into the classroom, and much to your dismay Keahey is already standing at the whiteboard, his huge beer belly pushing against his shirt- straining the buttons. He grins as you enter the room, his eyes ghosting down your body. You feel sick. You quickly find a seat in the very back, normally you sit towards the front of the room so you can see the professor and pay attention. This time you want to stay as far from the professor as you can, you just want to pass this class and be done with Keahey the Pervert. After a few minutes when the coarse starts, Keahey moves to close the door and it shuts with a loud echoing thud. Looking around you see most of the females in the class sitting in the last few rows like you are, and most of the males in the middle and front. Great. Apparently every girl had the same idea on how to dodge Keahey’s perverted stares but since every girl is in the back, he’s going to be looking back here constantly. 

Keahey shuffles through some papers on his desk when the door is pushed open. Your eyes find a tall lean guy with curly dark hair and what looks like a cigarette in his hands. “You can’t smoke in here, and you’re late.” Keahey barks at him, but the guy holding the cigarette shrugs. He strolls into the classroom and towards the stairs, leading to the back. “Yeah and you should molest women but not all of us are perfect.” He says casually, and everyone’s eyes widen as the whole room begins whispering. Keahey’s face turns red and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anger. The guy tosses his cigarette on the tile floors before moving into the row you’re sitting. He sits all the way at the end, as far from you as he can. You recognize him from one of the frat houses, but you’ve never known his name. 

Keahey continues as though nothing ever happened as he strolled in front of his desk. “We’re gonna launch right into it, fuckin’ books don’t know shit so we won’t be using those.” He grumbles and you hear a collective sigh of annoyance. This book on acting for beginners cost a few hundred dollars, and now we’re not even going to use it? The guy at the end of your row pulls out a tattered notebook and haphazardly opens it to an empty page before beginning to doodle with his pen. “You, Chalamet. Get down here.” Keahey snaps, his eyes focused on the boy sitting at the end of your row. He ignores Keahey and continues doodling, the figure on his paper beginning to look like one of those Mexican day of the dead masks. Keahey’s face puffs red again as his eyes shift to you, “you get your ass down here!” He snaps and you slowly rise on shaky legs. The guy doodling looks up at you as you pass behind him, and you can feel his eyes on you as you make your way down the stairs- towards Keahey. 

When you’re standing in front of Keahey he turns to look at you, “first thing I’m gonna teach you fucks is how to show emotion through body language,” he starts and you begin to blush under all the eyes on you. Keahey grins down at you, his hand reaching up to land on your waist. “What emotion am I conveying with my body language?” He asks you as his face slides into a disgusting smirk. His hand stays planted firmly on your waist as he inches closer towards you. You resist the urge to pull away from him as you begin to tremble and when tears threaten to fall down your cheeks you feel a hand on your arm. When you turn your head, you see the boy who was drawing stood behind you. “You asked me to come down here, so here I fuckin’ am.” He says casually, his gaze remaining on Keahey. Keahey releases you and scowls at the boy in front of him, “you’re still an asshole Timothee.” Keahey snaps and the boy you figured is named Timothee simply shrugs.  

The rest of the class passes by fairly quickly, and Keahey let you return to your seat after Timothee stepped in. You don’t know what to make of Timothee, he seems to already know Professor Keahey pretty well though. You place your book back in your bag when the class is dismissed and see Timothee reaching for another cigarette. “Thanks,” you stammer, drawing his attention to you. He says nothing as he lights his cigarette, “for saving me from Keahey.” You finish and Timothee nods. “Guys’ a fuckin’ sicko.” He says as he stands and you move to follow him but freeze when you see Keahey near his desk. You and Timothee are the last people in here and you do not want to be left alone with Keahey. “I can walk you out if you want.” Timothee offers and you smile, releasing a sigh as you nod. Timothee walks on the side closest to Keahey, and you see Keahey’s eyes snap to you as you near the door. “Y/L/N, stay back a sec will ya?” He says and you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Actually Keahey we have plans we can’t miss.” Timothee says, sliding his hands in his pockets as he turns to face the professor. You stay quiet as Timothee subtly steps in front of you, his face casual but his body language defensive. “It’ll just take a sec, won’t be with your girl too long.” Keahey says with a sultry smile. You feel like vomiting, but your cheeks redden when he calls you Timothee’s girl. “I really don’t want you with her at all.” Timothee says, his voice tight. You feel tension rising in the air as Keahey and Timothee lock in a stare down. “U-Uh lets go Tim, we don’t want to miss our reservation.” You say with a shaky voice, stumbling over your words. Timothee takes a step back and leads you out of the room, making sure to stay between you and Keahey. 

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as soon as the classroom door shuts and you’re in the safety of the hallway. “You alright?” Timothee asks, pulling his cigarette away from his lips as he looks down at you. You swallow a lump in your throat as you nod, “yeah thanks.” You say softly. Timothee pushes his curls out of his face as he scratches his chin, “wanna come to a party at my frat house?” He asks casually and you look up at him surprised. You’re not an innocent little girl, you’ve been to a few parties but you’ve never been to a frat party. Plus you don’t even know this guy, although he did just save you from possible sexual harassment. Twice. “Sure.” You try to say as casually and nonchalant as you can. Timothee nods, “cool cool. See you in an hour.” He says before turning on his heel and you realize you don’t even know where his frat house is. “Where’s the party?” You call after him. “Just meet me here.” He responds without turning to look at you as he disappears around the corner. 

“Which frat?” Caroline asks as you drop your bag on the floor. You turn to your closet, reaching inside to find something to wear. “Dunno, he just told me to meet him in the hallway.” You explain and Caroline squeals in excitement as she stands to help you find something to wear. “Name?” She asks and you reach forward to grab a black dress. “Timothee.” You tell her and when you don’t hear her respond, you realize it’s because she’s staring at you. “Chalamet?” Caroline clarifies and you nod slowly, what the hell is her problem? Her eyes widen as she instantly reaches over to grab one of her much tighter and shorter dresses. “You have no idea who he is do you? God you’re such a hermit!” Caroline sighs and you blink in confusion as she tosses the dress at you. “His father is Marc Chalamet! One of the most famous actors on the planet!” She says, her eyes wide and you still just look at her in confusion. 

You begin to undress to slide the dress on as Caroline rushes around the room gathering makeup. “Basically Timothee is the son of some fucking Einstein of acting, and every girl on campus wants to fuck him.” She explains, and it’s obvious to you that Caroline is one of those girls. She zips up the back of the dress and pushes you to sit on the edge of your bed. You’re a bit curvier than Caroline so the dress sits higher on your thighs, and pushes your breasts out a bit more. “And he just invited you to a party, if you don’t fuck him tonight I’ll personally kick your ass myself.” Caroline snaps, tilting your chin up to begin applying makeup. She brushes on your makeup, and leaves your hair in it’s natural waves as it falls around your shoulders. “Mm yep you look pretty damn fuckable right now.” Caroline concludes, looking pleased with herself. You glance in the mirror and your eyes widen slightly, the makeup around your eyes make your eyes pop. The lipstick she rolled onto your lips make them look more plump, and the highlights bring out the best features of your face.

An hour later you’re standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. You feel sexy, but also very uncomfortable because this is not how you normally dress. Not even for a party, tight dresses and sex proof makeup is definitely more Caroline’s thing. You hear a low whistle and when you turn your head you see Timothee with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing the same thing he was during class, jeans with a white t-shirt, stripped button up and cardigan. You smile shyly, “did I overdress?” You ask, feeling nervous at his casual attire. Timothee shakes his head as he leads you out of the school, “nah you’ll fit right in. I just don’t give a fuck about how I look, I’m there to get shit faced.” He shrugs and you laugh lightly. The night air is cooler than you anticipated, but you figured with the alcohol that will soon be in your veins you’ll warm up quickly. 

You hear booming music from a house sitting just beyond the edge of the campus. Cars line the streets and you see flashing lights from inside the 2 story house. “I’m surprised. Normally my dad is brought up at this point in the conversation.” He laughs, and while his face is lighthearted- his eyes aren’t. There’s a dark expression behind them, “I don’t know anything about your dad actually. My friend Caroline had to tell me who he is.” You admit and you see him smile. Tim throws the cigarette on the sidewalk and stomps it out, “why do you smoke cigarettes?” You ask and he laughs. His hands find their way back into his jean pockets, “does it smell like a normal cigarette?” He asks again and you inhale deeply. It doesn’t smell like a cigarette now that you think about it, “what is that?” You ask and he smiles as he kicks a rock along the sidewalk with his dirty sneakers. “Weed.” He answers and your eyes widen. 

“You ever smoke weed?” He asks and you shake your head slowly, you never have but you’ve always been curious and wanted to try it just once. Timothee reaches into his pocket and pulls out another blunt with a mischievous smirk on his face. “No time like the present.” He mumbles as he lights it, and takes in a long drag. He hands it to you and you shakily bring it up to your lips before inhaling. You feel a burning in your lungs and you immediately start coughing and gasping. Timothee takes the blunt from you laughing as he places a hand on your back. When you stand up straight, your head feels fuzzy and you smile slowly. “Man it hit you already? You’re such a lightweight.” Timothee teases as you near the large house. Every color seems to be brighter, and the lights shine as brightly as the sun. You release a giggle as you look over at him, “I have never done this before!” You laugh gleefully and Timothee nods as he takes another hit. “Yeah, that’s obvious.” He smiles as you get closer to the house. 

The music is booming as he pushes the door open and you see the entire living room filled with people. The lights are flashing colors as people grind and dance, and some are just sitting on the couches making out. You move to the kitchen to find a drink when Timothee places a hand on your arm. “Don’t drink, you’ll get cross faded. That shit fucks you up.” He warns, his lips brushing against your ear so you can hear him over the booming music. You turn towards the dancefloor, because fuck with this music playing there’s no way you can stay still. You nearly forget you even came here with Tim as you push your way through the people and start swaying to the music. You feel hands on your hips and when you turn to look over your shoulder, you see Timothee with the blunt hanging lazily from his lips. You lean back into his chest and grind against his hardening cock. His arms wind around you hips as his nose brushes against the shell of your ear. The smell of marijuana fills your senses, making your head feel fuzzier than it already is. 

You feel his lips on your neck as the blunt drops to the ground once it’s finished. Your hands reach back to tangle in his curls as his hands hold your hips tightly. You’re normally not like this, like ever but right now you don’t care. You feel that heat beginning to build in your stomach and you want him bad. You turn around to face him and Timothee immediately presses his lips to yours. His hands slide down to your ass, pulling you into him harder. Your lips press and move together and slowly every other person in the room melts away. One night stands are something you’ve never participated in but tonight you are totally ready to rectify that as you take his hand and pull him towards a set of stairs. Your back hits the wall halfway up the stairs as Timothee grinds against you, his lips on yours again. The kiss is heated and passionate and the only thing in your mind is him. His hands everywhere on you, his lips on yours his tongue dominating yours. You moan against his lips as his hand slips underneath your dress and presses against your clit against your panties. 

Your hand find his hard cock through his jeans and you grip him tightly, forcing a low growl from his mouth. Suddenly Timothee lifts you and tosses you over his shoulder, his hands gripping your thighs and rear as he hauls you up the stairs. You squeal in laughter, panting as your heart races in your chest. Your skin tingles and burns everywhere, you ache for his touch. He carries you into a bedroom and kicks the door shut behind him before tossing you on the bed. You bounce as you stare up at him, his lips slightly red from your lipstick and swollen from the kisses. He leans over you again in a second, his hands lifting yours above your head and pressing them into the mattress, pinning you in place. You whine as you lift your hips to grind against him and he smiles against your lips as his kisses trail to your neck. Everything feels desperate and rushed, like you’re going to die if you don’t touch him. You wriggle against his grip he has on your wrists, “please.” You whine, but you don’t know what you’re begging for. 

Timothee’s hands leave your wrists as he reaches down to unzip your dress and yank it off your body. Your nipples are erect as they hit the cool air, the dress was so tight on you that you couldn’t fit into it if you wore a bra. Timothee hums lowly in satisfaction as his head dips to pull a nipple into his mouth. You cry out as your hand twists into his air, his teeth gently biting your bud. “Fuck,” you moan as one of his hands dips below the waistband of your panties and begins to rub harsh circles on your pulsing clit. Timothee kisses across the expanse of your chest as he takes the other nipple in his mouth, his fingers still working magic against your bundle of nerves. “God, fuck!” You cry out as your back arches up against him. He continues rubbing you harshly and you feel that heat bubbling inside your pelvis as you begin to squirm in pleasure. “Jesus Tim-” You moan as the coil in your stomach bursts and you gush into your underwear as you cum. Timothee pulls away from you, yanking his shirt off as you lay under him, panting as you come down from your high. 

You reach up to quickly unbuckle his belt, and you’re so desperate for his cock that your fingers fumble with the buckle before you finally pull it through the loops of his jeans. Both of you are panting as you help him shove his jeans and underwear down, his cock springing free. You nearly drool at the sight of his tall, leaking cock and you lean down to take it in your mouth but Timothee pushes you back. He says nothing as he reaches into his jeans to pull out a condom and roll it on. “Fuck, get inside me.” You pant as you lay back and spread your legs wider for him to fit between them. Timothee leans over you and pushes into you, groaning as you stretch around him. “Jesus how long has it been for you? You’re fuckin’ tight as shit.” He moans before his lips press against your neck and collarbones. Honestly, it’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone. The last person you slept with was your ex-boyfriend and you broke up with him 2 years ago. Timothee gives you no time to adjust and begins to slam into you as soon as he bottoms out. You cry out loudly, your arms winding around his shoulders to drag your nails down his back. 

Timothee pounds into you, panting and groaning against your skin as he bites hickeys into your neck. You continue to claw at his back as he hits places deep inside you, “please don’t stop, shit!” You moan, your voice a broken cry at the end as his thumb reaches down to roll over your clit. You try to catch his lips with yours, but he keeps his face buried in your neck as his arms rest on either side of your head. Sweat sticks his hair to his forehead as he slams into you, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Your legs wind tightly around his waist as you hold onto Timothee, biting down on his shoulder and crying out against his skin. You feel the pressure building in your body as the liquid heat runs through your veins. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You moan as you feel the familiar burning in your core as he continues to slam into you. You can already tell that you’re going to be sore in the morning. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!” You cry out over and over again as your back arches and you cum so hard white spots explode behind your eyes. Timothee continues to pound into you until he comes in hot spurts into the condom. His forehead brushes against your shoulder as he stills, trying to catch his breath. 

Eventually he rolls off you and throws the condom out before coming back to lay on his back next to you. The room grows quiet as you both sit and let your breathing steady. He reaches into a nightstand to bring out another blunt, “you’re an addict.” You tease breathless and Timothee does nothing but smile lazily with a shrug. You feel your eyes drooping as you relax into the mattress, “is it cool if I crash here?” You ask nervously as Tim reaches an arm up to rest behind his head. He nods, his own eyes looking droopy, “sure.” He mumbles and you release a nervous breath as you reach down to find your underwear. Once you pull your underwear back up your legs you lay down next to Timothee, and it doesn’t take long before sleep overtakes you. 

When your eyes open the next morning the thing you notice first is how goddamn much your thighs ache. There’s a stinging pain through your core every time you move. You turn to look at where Timothee was but you don’t see him, and the room is vacant. On the nightstand next to you is a bottle of Advil and some water with a note. ‘I know you’re sore.’  You smile a little before popping two Advil in your mouth before slowly and gingerly moving to gather the rest of your clothes. You keep your dress up with your arms pressed to your chest, too lazy to reach back and zip your dress up. You hold your heels in your hands as you exit the room, and the entire house is silent. You creep down the stairs to see a girl sitting on the couch in nothing but a big t-shirt and a blunt hanging from her mouth. She glances at you as you come down the stairs but doesn’t say anything. 

“Where’s Timothee?” You ask as she scrolls through her phone. “Went with Alice to see Keahey. She had a meeting with him today.” She says and you can’t stop the sting to your heart when you hear that. When you don’t say anything the other girl glances up at you and her face falls. “Shit, don’t tell me Tim pulled that Keahey stunt on you too?” She asks as tears push at the backs of your eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, “I gotta go.” You say quickly as you push out of the frat house. You briskly walk back to your dorm, with tears flowing down your cheeks. Was he pretending to help with Keahey to fuck you? Was the entire time you guys spoke all about sex? True you didn’t know him long but was the entire thing just an act? Were you just another stupid girl who fell for his trap and let him in her pants? You hurry through the building, ignoring the stares from other people as you continue your walk of shame. When you finally push into your dorm, you’re relieved that Caroline isn’t there- you don’t feel like explaining it to her right now. 

When it’s time for Keahey’s class again, you’re stood outside stalling. You know Timothee’s either in there already or will be coming to class soon. You decide that bumping into him in the hallway is better than facing him in a room full of people. You doubt he’ll say anything to you anyway, you hope though that he will. When you enter the classroom your eyes land on him instantly, sitting at the end of the same row a girl with long blonde hair is sitting at. He’s doodling in his notebook when the door shuts behind you and his eyes briefly glance up at you before moving back to his notebook. It’s like he looked right through you, like last night never happened. You bite the inside of your cheek as you push past him and to your spot in the back from yesterday. Timothee continues doodling the entire class and you can’t even focus on what that pervert Keahey is saying. Halfway through the lecture, Keahey travels up the steps towards you. “Stay after today.” He says sternly before turning back down the stairs and when you glance at Timothee, his focus is still on his notebook. 

The lecture ends sooner than you would have liked but you don’t move, you need to meet with Keahey. You see Timothee pack up his things sluggishly when the girl with blonde hair smiles at him. “Thanks for going with me to my meeting with Keahey today.” She says and Timothee smiles with a small shrug. “Keahey’s a pervert.” He says casually as he begins down the stairs. You watch him slow his steps halfway down and turn to the girl who is hesitating to join him. “Want me to walk with you?” He asks as he looks at her and your heart shatters in your chest. It was all just some stupid stunt, he doesn’t care if Keahey does anything to you. He helped so you would let him fuck you. Timothee doesn’t give you a second glance as he walks out with who you assume to be Alice, “come down here Y/N.” Keahey says before Timothee exits the room. You stand to move towards Keahey, but Timothee doesn’t stop to see if you’ll be okay. He doesn’t glance back at you. He just keeps walking right out the door with Alice. 

The tears flow down your cheeks, and you just can’t stop them.  

***taglist*** @irishbish​ @90sthemedsunsets​

[mychemicalxmen]

Unfinished Business

hey so I find crt’s recent interactions with the tua fandom to be sus as hell and it got me thinking about the most plausible way I could see him comin back in s3 and the conclusion I came to is a way-shorter and way-simpler version of whatever the hell this is so uhhhh here

2.9k, klave/klave-adjacent

... ... ...

“Is this really a good idea?”

Allison’s words are gentle as she stands in the doorway of Klaus’s room. Well, not his room, per se, but the grey-walled, undecorated space that would’ve been his bedroom in a timeline gone by. The Sparrow Academy doesn’t seem to be a huge fan of homey-ness. They’d ever-so-kindly granted the Umbrellas two nights’ stay in these cold cells while they gathered their bearings and prepared to face the new world they’d fantastically screwed up.

Klaus smiles at her question. “That’s hardly stopped me before, right?”

Allison rolls her eyes and drops her hands onto her hips. “I’m worried about you, okay?”

“Don’t be,” Klaus answers with a swatting gesture. “It’s been easy-peasy since I’ve dropped the pills. Parlor tricks. Did this song and dance tons of times for Madame.”

“Also, we need to unpack your relationship to ‘Madame’ at your earliest convenience.”

Klaus raises an eyebrow mischievously. “What happens in Dallas...!”

Allison sighs. “Okay, well, if things start to get, y’know, mega-spooky panic-time, you’ll just yell, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Hey.” Allison’s voice is suddenly calmer. Klaus’s gaze snaps up to meet hers. “You’re sure about this?”

Klaus lets himself breathe for a moment. Tension fights to seize his limbs. He’s really about to do it.

His first six months of sobriety were the absolute nightmare that he knew they would be. They were all the sleepless nights, trembling hands, emotional eruptions, and torturous visions that he’d predicted.

But at some point, his powers became less like a stubborn faucet, run by an on/off switch with not much in between. With time (and Ben’s encouragement), he’d come to better understand his link to the other side. He’d learned how to cut and re-engage the connection at will, how to find faces in the crowd, how to call one forth, and how to sleep peacefully.

Most nights.

“I’m sure,” he says solidly.

He checks himself over, tugging his brightly striped shirt into place, tucking in his dog tag, and running a hand through the hair he’d half-considered chopping off the second he made it home. When he looks back up at Allison, he‘s feeling a bit less brave. “Do I look alright?”

Allison nods with a little grin. “You look great.” God, he wishes they’d reconnected far before this Dallas fiasco. She just cares so much. “Good luck,” she says.

“Love you, sis.” He blows her a lazy kiss as she leaves and closes the door behind her.

He paces around the room, steeling himself for the process. Like he said, it’s no big deal. Easy peasy. Even with that hiccup with alcohol, he’s clean enough to pull it off. He shakes out the last of his nerves with a couple tiny hops before settling in the middle of the room.

He stands firmly, feet apart, and drops his head. He squeezes his fists and lets the energy start to crackle between his fingers.

With all the insanity of this timeline, he needs to know what happened in 1968. He needs to see Dave.

It’s tougher to contact someone not already in the room. He focuses everything he has, and the energy pulses faster and stronger. Come on, come on…

“Klaus?”

He looks up with a start.

There he is, standing four feet in front of him. Those torn-up fatigues. Those searching blue eyes. That curly mess of blonde hair he hasn’t seen for three years.

Dave.

Klaus can’t keep the dumb smile off of his face.

“Hey there, soldier,” he practically whispers.

“Hey yourself,” Dave says - happy, though clearly disoriented. “Guess you weren’t making up all that ‘future’ junk after all.”

Klaus’s affirmative laugh is airy. But when his eyes trail down to the cavity in Dave’s chest, his heart aches in regret.

His jaw aches too. What a week it’s been.

“I have... so much to ask you,” Dave goes on. “It’s been a long time.”

Klaus swallows. Here goes. The million dollar question.

“Uh… How long of a time, exactly?”

He unconsciously holds his breath.

Dave glances to the side. “...Right around when JFK was shot. Must’ve been ‘63?”

Klaus exhales and sits on the bed, face blank.

Dave is wincing at his own memories. “God, I was such a dumb kid, I’m so sorry that you—”

Klaus isn’t hearing him. He’s too caught up on that number. 63.

If the Umbrella Academy doesn’t exist, Klaus Hargreeves doesn’t grow up in the same home as Five Hargreeves. He doesn’t get kidnapped by assassins. He doesn’t get his hands on a briefcase. He doesn’t go to Vietnam.

If the Umbrella Academy doesn’t exist, neither does the Dave that fell in love with him.

His Dave is gone. Really gone. 

This Dave was the timid hardware store employee he’d tried to get through to, striving to save his life and instead locking in his fate a few days early. This Dave is still the same person as the other one was. Same upbringing, same interests, same compassion, same smile, same violent death. But...

“—a strange time for anyone. You know how it is.”

Klaus tunes back in to Dave apologizing for his cringey adolescence. “No, no, yeah, I get it, don’t worry about it.”

In the pause that follows, Klaus feels his throat tighten and hot tears threaten to drop down his face.

Within the same pause, Klaus realizes the obvious. Dave is a ghost.

Kiddos and grandmas, or anyone who’s achieved either nothing or everything that their life had to offer them, they get the window to move on right away. One-way ticket to the Great Beyond, or the next life, or whatever the hell it is. Ultimate FastPass, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200. Klaus has learned that spirits don’t tend to stick around on earth unless they have unfinished business. Sometimes they don’t even know what they need to do to start fresh, and that’s always the worst. Those souls become the bitterest, the loudest, the most tortured. Those were the ones who gave him hell in the mausoleum, with question after question that he couldn’t even begin to answer.

Dave seems to have managed okay. Probably spends a lot of time watching over his friends, his sisters, his neighbor’s cat. Klaus wonders what he could possibly have left to do.

“Major case of unfinished business you got there, huh?” Klaus asks. “Been waiting around, what, fifty years?”

Dave squints. “Well, it’s hard to feel it. Time works a little funny over here.”

“Right, of course it does,” Klaus recalls stupidly. He sniffles and swipes a hand under his eye as nonchalantly as he can. “Ah. Any idea what the little brat is waiting for you to do?”

Dave gives a tentative chuckle. “Brat?”

“Oh, Big G, the almighty, you know,” Klaus clarifies. “The bitch on the bike. I met Her once or twice. We’re not too chummy.”

Dave shows startlement, then shakes his head, acknowledging that this information should hardly faze him at this point. “Um. Yeah. Don’t know what She wants yet. Though She’s actually a cowgirl for me.”

“Of course She is.” 

And that’s the idiotic comment that causes Klaus’s voice to crack.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dave asks. He hazards a few steps closer.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

“No... Nothing,” Klaus stammers. He briefly covers his face and lets out a groan. “Ughhh, it’s going to sound crazy.”

“Really think you can beat ‘Time-Traveling Cult Leader with Prophetic Dog Tags and Tidings of Death’?”

“It wasn’t a cult,” Klaus mumbles in futility. He drops his hands and gives it his best shot. “The first time I met you - first time I met Dave - was in a totally different timeline, in 1968. That’s how I knew all that stuff about you. And you died the same way, except I was there the first time. The other time. The same time?”

“You and ...’Other Dave’.... fought together,” Dave offers.

“Yes!” Klaus confirms, relieved that he’s making sense. “Yeah, exactly. Which is why I tried to stop him - you - from going.” He indicates Dave’s abdomen. “And, obviously, I failed. But because of some stuff my family screwed up along the way, you never fought with me, so I remember a lot more than you do, and it’s all just...” He gestures helplessly. “A real kick in the dick.”

Dave tilts his head in a mix of sympathy and confusion. “That... does sound pretty crap.”

Klaus doesn’t expect it when Dave sits next to him on his bed.

“You want to tell me what I missed?”

“Oh, no, no, no, Dave, you don’t want that. That’s a long story.”

Dave shrugs. “I’ve got some time to kill.”

Klaus manages a smile. Talking will keep him from crying.

He tries his best to tell everything chronologically, but almost every step of the beginning requires some Hargreeves Family Lore that he reluctantly recaps as efficiently as possible. Dave is an exceptional listener. Always has been. He lets Klaus ramble on and on and asks little questions now and again to get a clearer picture. Klaus appreciates Dave’s effort to form a coherent narrative out of the scattered snapshots that time has left him with.

Klaus stumbles with pronouns. He makes a point to refer to His Dave with “him” as opposed to “you”, but he can’t help but slip a few times in the middle. Dave seems to understand.

Klaus tells him about the day they met. He waters down the Time Police part of the tale and focuses on what came after. Dropping into the tent at dawn. The casual conversation on the bus. The strange instinct that he got to stick around for a few days.

He tells him about soldiering. He tells Dave how focused and respected he looked on the battlefield. But he also tells him how kind he was to new recruits.

He tells him about their first R&R together in Saigon. He tells him about the vibrant bar and the strangest music and the secluded back hallway.

He tells him about the nights in the jungle they’d stayed up and dreamed up plans for when they’d go home together. He tells him about the day those plans fell apart. When Klaus runs out of story to tell, he just stops. Dave looks at him thoughtfully. Klaus can only imagine what must be running through his head. He knows it’s not judgement, or embarrassment, or anger, or loathing. Dave is too sweet for any of that.

Dave is too good for the rotten fortune that found him, time and time again.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus says.

“For what?”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t save him,” Klaus answers. He fumbles again. “You. Him? Young Dave?”

“I’m getting a headache keeping track of it myself,” Dave admits.

“You,” Klaus settles on. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Dave looks into him for a breath. Then, he reaches out and touches his arm. Klaus wants to dissolve into dust.

“I think I understand why I loved you,” Dave says.

A bittersweet laugh tumbles ungracefully from Klaus’s mouth. He tries not to draw attention to the new round of tears that spills over with it. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do.” Dave gives him the gentlest smile. “You shouldn’t be sorry. You tried so hard. I could’ve had more courage, fought back, ran away, something, but I just... wasn’t ready.” He glances down. “And I wasn’t going to be.”

Klaus’s hand closes over Dave’s on his arm.

“But I always remembered you,” Dave adds. “I always thought you were brave.”

“Goddamn, I was convinced I’d pushed your Big Awakening back a good two months, at least.”

“Far from,” Dave assures. His eyes crinkle with the flash of a memory. “I’m... not sure if I should tell you this.”

Klaus cocked his head. “Well, shit, Davey, now you have to.”

“I’m assuming Other Me told you something about Bill, right? Met in junior year, moved to Austin after school, always a bit of suspicion there...”

“Yeah?”

Dave’s face reddens slightly. “I mean, it wasn’t anything serious, but there were a few weeks when I was home, before this last tour...”

Klaus’s eyes widen. This was not an event on his timeline. He mocks outrage and pushes Dave’s hand away. “David Joseph Katz—!”

“The point is,” Dave poorly stifles a laugh, “I had hope. That it was gonna be alright, and that after this round, I’d be back in America for good, and I’d find my place.”

Hope.

Klaus supposes hope is nice. It’s just not terribly helpful with the way things panned out. In the world where Dave still didn’t make it home. In the world where he’s stuck here, waiting for a way to move on. In the world where he’s still around to see how little good that hope did him. And frustration starts to churn Klaus’s stomach, even though he knows...

“...This really wasn’t your fault,” Dave says, reading him just as perfectly as he could in ‘68.

Klaus hadn’t noticed how long he’d fallen silent for. “I know,” he mumbles, and logically, he does. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. There had to be a timeline out there where everything ended up alright, where him and Dave lived happily together just like they’d talked about, but he is never going to find it now.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “And I still love him. Christ, he made one of the deadliest shitshows in American history the only place I wanted to be. He made me the happiest that I’ve been in a long, long time. He made me feel so treasured. So... strong.”

When the tears return a third time, he stops trying to hide them. He carelessly wipes the heel of his palm across his cheek.

“I wanted to tell him all that,” he finishes. “He gave me something so special that I don’t think I’ll get again.”

A sob escapes Klaus. Dave patiently waits for him to work it out.

“I know I’m not him,” Dave starts, “But for what it’s worth, I think he’d know you still love him. I think it’d destroy him to be apart from you. But I don’t think he’d want you to destroy yourself.”

Klaus knows the spiel that’s coming, and so badly does he want to dismiss it all as disgusting cliche. But he also knows Dave’s sappy tendencies well enough to know that, in this case, it’s probably accurate. Hell, he’s hearing it from the man himself.

“If you couldn’t get back to him, I think he’d just want to know you were happy,” Dave says. “You know? That you kept moving and kept taking care of yourself. And kept looking for the kind of love you deserve.”

Dave shifts to face him more directly. His eyes are bright with intention. “You have so much life left in you. You deserve a new chapter.”

Klaus feels beaten and weary all over. His mind is finally slowing down to the present.

When Dave subtly opens up his arms, he eagerly takes the offer to wrap him in an embrace.

This is the last he’ll see of him. He can feel it. He tucks his chin over Dave’s shoulder and clings onto the fabric of his vest, eyes shut, trying to commit every sensation to memory.

Dave returns, lightly weaving his hand into Klaus’s hair. Klaus recalls with a weak grin that he knew Dave would be fond of the new length.

It’s safe and sacred and almost everything that he’d planned for on that day he’d desperately wandered the mansion halls, calling out for any help he could get, twisting a bundle of rope in his quaking hands.

He hears a whisper of a wind chime.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Dave mutters.

The blue glow pierces through Klaus’s eyelids. He pulls back to look at Dave.

He’s crumbling apart, piece by piece, and drifting away. Bright light speckles the entire room.

“Klaus?” Dave asks. His voice is soft but threaded with slight fear. “Is this...?”

“Yeah, it is,” he answers. He tightens his grip on Dave’s arms. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me say goodbye.”

A beat passes. Then, understanding washes over Dave’s face. He pulls Klaus close once again, stroking his hair.

He presses a kiss onto Klaus’s forehead.

Klaus doesn’t watch him go. He only opens his eyes when his arms are at last empty.

Specks of glittering blue light still float through the air. Nothing else remains but the wrinkle on the bedspread where he was sitting. Klaus’s face still feels warm where his lips were placed just moments ago.

Klaus buries his head in his hands. “Allison,” He calls out. The sound is pathetic. He clears his throat and tries again. “Allie?”

He hears her heeled boots click down the hall. He can’t bring himself to look up when she opens the door. “You okay?”

“It’s over,” he summarizes.

“What do you need?”

A joint. A fist full of pills. Five shots of tequila. A good sock in the head so he can go back to that pre-Technicolor hellscape and tell that bitch on the bike what he really thinks of Her.

“Can you just sit with me for a minute, please?”

Allison closes the door and obliges.

They talk, slowly and softly, about absolutely nothing at all, while Allison smooths her hand against Klaus’s back. They stare at the cold tile floors together for a long time. Klaus asks if it would kill the Sparrows to hire an interior decorator.

[anxiouslynumbme]

Tell Me It’s Okay: Chapter 2

- Daniel’s thoughts as he watched over Daisy. Ao3

(A repost, ‘cause Tumblr likes to delete my stuff from tags.)

___________________________________________

It wasn't subtle.

The way she had snuck up on him. Well, she had crept in through a time-travelling vessel, so no, nothing about how she'd barged in or how she made him feel was subtle. Irritation, intrigue, attraction. Those had been the prominent emotions Daniel had experienced when he'd first met her.

Note he'd said prominent, there were a whole bunch of feelings that had come upon meeting Daisy Johnson.

Suspicion, apprehension, worry...because who the hell was she?

Intimidation. Daniel'd felt intimidated. Not a lick of embarrassment or fear that she had been caught snooping around his office as she'd casually stood up and sauntered toward him, and Daniel wouldn't lie and say he hadn't let his eyes wander very discreetly all over her. Daisy hadn't noticed, after all, Daniel was a gentleman, and he'd mastered the art of appreciating a woman's figure without making them uncomfortable or coming off as a creep.

Skepticism. Daniel was dubious and maybe a little proud, as she'd listed his past missions. A pit of inexplicable nerves had gathered in his stomach, listening to this mysterious, beautiful stranger speak of his work. She had done it nonchalantly too, as though she was unaffected and unimpressed by his accomplishments.

Relief and vindication, Daniel had been glad that she wasn't someone he'd needed to fight off. Not only that, but she'd confirmed his theory. He was proven right and that was always a booster, not to his ego, but mostly to his spirits. Daniel had been after Hydra for a while, positive of their infiltration, and more than ready to take them down. And when daisy had told him he wasn't crazy, he'd felt vindicated. Granted, she'd lied about being CIA, but the affirmation was much appreciated, nonetheless.

Trust. Daniel trusted her. It wasn't something he could properly explain, but something about her sang, 'trust me', and he had. He hadn't questioned it when she'd said she was CIA, and then when it turned out she was a fellow Agent. Objectively, it might had been naive of him. But Daniel trusted himself more than anyone, and he'd been doing this for so long not to trust his instincts. And his instincts had told him to trust Daisy. And they didn't stir him wrong.

Disappointment. Because right after he'd decided to believe her, Coulson and her team had locked him up, and Daniel didn't like that he'd doubted his gut and intuition. And he'd even felt just a bit sad, because more that anything Daniel had wanted to be right about her.

Safe. Daniel hadn't been able to breathe, a hand wrapped so tightly around his neck, he'd felt it trying to tear through his throat, his lungs had screamed for oxygen. And then, May I cut in? Daisy'd said wittily, before socking the damn woman away from him, and bringing him back to safety. You again, he'd gasped, actually thankful and happy to see her. Told you we were the good guys. And just like that, he trusted her again.

It was all just a fraction of what Daniel had experienced when Daisy had walked into his life. Because of course, it got more confusing as he got to know her. Confusing in the best and most enticing of ways.

Daniel fidgeted slightly on his chair, craning his neck before resting his head back again, his eyes still on her. He briefly wondered to himself, if he were being a little creepy. But Daniel just wanted to make sure she got the rest she needed this time, no interruptions. And it didn't exactly hurt to look at her.

Daniel was starting to feel many things around her. For example, the mere fact of wanting to be around her - all the time. Out of everyone, for whatever reason, Daniel felt most comfortable with her. It was quite a strange thing to feel this kind of ease around someone he didn't know for long, yet there was always this nervous energy thrumming through him whenever she was near. An excitement. . .a longing. Something Daniel hadn't felt in quite sometime.

But Daniel wasn't stupid, he was also not in the business of lying to himself. He was falling. Fast and hard.

And this time was different, he could just tell. Not just because of his circumstances, but because it was her, it was Daisy, and in just a short amount of time, Daniel knew everything about her was utterly unique, including his feelings towards her. This way he was starting to feel about her felt new somehow, something in him just recognized something special in her. And Daniel really wanted to explore it further. But Daniel also couldn't deny that it felt like he was setting himself up for failure. They were literally from two different times, different worlds, really. And he immediately felt the need to shut down any insane desires and abrupt hopes his heart was feeling.

But his heart never cared for logic. And Daniel had already felt it anyway.

Connection. There was something that linked him to Daisy, even though she didn't talk much and was always choosing her words carefully around him. But it was peculiar how it seemed Daniel knew what she had been through without her having to say a word. It was in her eyes, he believed. The way she carried herself, even the way she handled fights. So alert, so ready to go into battle without a second thought to herself and her well-being. And it bothered Daniel as much as it impressed him. The second he'd told her about Hydra's effect on his life, and he had been met with silence, Daniel knew they had done much worse to her.

And Daniel had a feeling that what Daisy'd told him before going into the chamber, was just a glimpse into the pain that had been inflicted on her over the years.

Protectiveness. Daniel had thought he was only doing his job when he had walked up and pretended to be her fiancée, he was an Agent and it was his duty to be quick on his feet. But Daniel couldn't stop his protective nature from springing up. He'd hated the way Malick was talking to her, the way he'd looked at her. And if he were being honest, Daniel hadn't really thought about it before doing it, he was just glad that Daisy hadn't taken offense to his strategy, because Daniel was well-aware she could handle herself; It just was the easiest and most discreet way to get rid of Gideon.

Awe. He was awed and very impressed. It didn't take Daniel long to recognize just how impressive Daisy was, and that was before he'd learned about her powers, she was remarkable all on her own. But then she'd raised her palm just an inch, and literally blew away two men across the street. It wasn't a serum, she'd told him, and Daniel had questions firing left and right in his brain. But the thing he'd instantly noticed about her powers, was that it was so...her. Like an extension of who she was, a part of everything that made up Daisy Johnson.

Calm. Daniel had felt agitated and confused after running away from that bar, and Daisy wasn't giving him straight answers. But sharing with her just a bit of why he had been so on edge and sad about not having enough time to have said his goodbyes, was weirdly calming. The understanding in her eyes, not judging him when he'd told her he might end his mission with them soon. Just a simple nod from her, and Daniel had felt calm enough to understand that he had options, and maybe he wasn't entirely trapped.

Helplessness. Daniel had thought she was going to die, more than once. The drug Nathaniel had used on them had obviously affected her more than him from the start, and Daniel didn't know how to help her. And then it had gotten worse, much worse. And all Daniel could do was sit there as Malick took her away. Violating and torturing her in ways he didn't think a human being was capable of, and he'd had to watch it all through a hole in the wall. Daniel wanted to kill him. But Daisy had been so strong, so resilient, almost making no sound at all. And that had worried him more than anything, it was almost as though her body was prepared for the pain. A bile had risen in his throat and he'd felt sick to his stomach, trying to calm down and think of a way to get them out. To get that sick bastard as far away from Daisy as he could.

Fear. Daniel had been so scared for her the entire time. But when they had brought her out, blood staining her shirt, her head hanging limply on her shoulder, he'd felt his heart halt in his chest. And for one terrifying second Daniel'd thought she was actually dead. Daisy, he'd rasped urgently, praying she'd answer him. Stay awake. Daniel wasn't sure why he'd told her that specific story, it was one of his worst memories, he'd always felt guilty thinking about his friend. But with Daisy beaten up, barely hanging on, Daniel'd managed to find the hope in his tale, hope to help her press on, hope to tell her that she was going home, no matter what, even if he wasn't. But in the end, it had been her. Daisy was the one who had pushed through it all and embedded a piece of glass beneath her skin, which'd saved them both.

It was then, Daniel thought, that something within him had completely shifted, something that kept calling out for her, to be near her. And he didn't resist it, he didn't want to.

Daisy was very slowly opening up, little by little, she was letting him in. Ever since they'd met, Daniel found himself hanging on her every word, wanting to absorb any information she was willing to give about herself. Daniel couldn't stop thinking about their latest conversation before she climbed into the chamber. It was absolutely heartbreaking that his hunch was confirmed, Daisy had suffered many losses and torment in many ways. And Daniel really didn't want to push her, especially when she was still healing. He was fine with her taking however long she needed. One day. One day, Daniel wanted her to tell him everything, because he really didn't think this intense need to know her was going away.

Daniel was nurturing by nature, but for some reason when it came to her, it was really dialed up a notch, if him twisting his back for hours just to make sure she was okay, was any indication. Daniel wanted to help the team save the world from those damn aliens calling themselves, the Chronicoms. But Daniel would be lying if he said that he didn't stay mainly because of her. Daniel'd had to sit there and watch her get tortured for hours, and the image wouldn't leave his mind. She wouldn't leave his mind. Daniel had to stay, because it really was where he needed to be. Next to Daisy Johnson as she made her way back to health, so she could get back to saving the world, and Daniel would be beside her then too.

Daniel was supposed to be dead. It was a struggle choosing which to focus on, the fact that he was taken out of his time and didn't get to give proper goodbye to his life and everyone in it, or the fact that as far as his history's concerned, Daniel Sousa had died on July 22, 1955. It was overwhelmingly daunting, and he was trying to accept that it was something he might never be able to fully wrap his head around.

But being with this team, as much as he hadn't completely trusted them at first, was helping him. Observing their dynamic and watching them work together was interesting, to say the least; it made him miss his life back home, his S.H.I.E.L.D. The team was almost too close, they obviously had such a deep bond with one another, and seemed ready for anything thrown their way. It was clear they had been burdened with a lot more than the average S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent.

And while Daniel was more than willing to help them on their mission, it was Daisy that had shone a light through all the confusion, frustration, and anxiety. And his mind, as well as his heart, seemed to latch onto her. Maybe he was focusing on her to keep himself grounded and to help him understand, but that wasn't just it. It was Daisy, and Daniel was really trying to know her inside and out, and hopefully keep her in his life after everything.

His eyes were starting to get heavy as he tried to keep them on her. A small yawn leaving his lips, Daniel angled his body to the right, trying to find a comfortable position.

What'd happened to him was disruptive and life-altering, and after all this, if he survived, Daniel was going to take some time to fully process his situation and place in life. But Daniel couldn't help but think that it wasn't all bad, that things happened for a reason, and that he was meant to be here. Daniel was a dead man; he was thrown out of his time, and yet somehow, sitting down on that chair and watching over Daisy, now felt like his time too.

Maybe his time was whenever Daisy's time was, and with that strangely serene thought, Daniel's eyes finally gave in to sleep.

[yellowocaballero]

You And Me (And Your Friend Daisy)

Thanks for pushing me to finish this, Anon! This is a short, fun, and romantic story written in the verse of my other fics Bell, Book, and Candle and No Sin But Ignorance. Takes place some time post the ending of No Sin But Ignorance. That being said, this is probably very comprehensible without knowledge of those fics, so feel free to just view it as a no-apocalypse au. The majority of this was written while writing Feste - more accurately, when I needed a break from the crushing depression of Feste, so that’s why it’s so cheerful. :)

Yes, it’s named after that Garfunkel and Oates song, because that’s the plot. 

The rest of the story is under the cut!

*******************************************

“Are you going to tell me where we are?”

“You have to guess! And no peeking!”

Jon sighed, slouching in his seat. He hated surprise vacations. He hated being forced to leave work and ‘take a break’ because ‘you’re contractually obligated to use your PTO hours’. And he did take vacations, he didn’t know why everybody acted like he didn’t. He and Georgie took Gerry to Blackpool once a year for Spring Break. That was a whole week off. That was enough for anybody. 

But Martin had been pointedly sending him emails about ‘fun couple’s trips’ and ‘romantic getaways’ in an ultra-subtle act of subliminal messaging. Indeed, the three emailed promotional advertisements listing off fun, relaxing, and romantic things to do with your significant other were so subtle that Emma was forced to listen in on the automated JAWS voice reading them out and then call him a ‘fucking idiot’. 

Whatever. It wasn’t as if Gertrude took any vacations, and nobody got on her back for it. Jon was willing to bet that Dekker never sent Gertrude any passive aggressive emails. He would have to ask him later - they got boba together once a month, he was an excellent conversational partner. He was, of course, slightly insane, both for his fervent adherence to the ancient religions and willingness to come within five feet of Gertrude Robinson for personal reasons, but all the best supernatural hunters were. 

“Well, we’ve clearly been driving north for the past eight hours, judging from the angle of the sun,” Jon said, annoyed. The car radio was playing the Archers in a dull drone, which Jon had insisted upon, because he and Daisy never missed an episode. This confused and frightened Martin. A bag rustled, and Jon knew that Martin was fishing around in the plastic convenience store sack for more Jaffa cakes. “Combined with the time, that can only mean that we’re going to Scotland. I don’t have any close friends in Scotland and I’m willing to be you don’t either -”

“Hey!”

“ - so unless you assigned yourself the task of following up on the Scottish Slaughter Statement without me assigning it to you, and deciding to bring me along, I��m guessing that we’re going to stay in a hotel and do...touristy things.”

“Wrong again,” Martin said triumphantly. He liked keeping track of every time Jon was innocently incorrect about something, just to prove it to everyone else. “I mean, yes, we are in Scotland, you’re right about that, but we are not staying in a hotel. We’re staying in the country.”

“Darling, I would love to sit on the Scottish Moors and stare out into the endless, unceasing fog with you in complete silence,” Jon said lovingly, “but I thought you wanted to do something romantic.”

“That’s not romantic?” Martin gasped, horrified. “Have you even read Wuthering Heights?”

“You and Gerry are two peas in a goth pod.”

“He’s goth, I’m gothic. There’s a difference. And don’t tell me that you don’t enjoy gothic literature - you’re literally a Byronic hero.”

“Oh, here we go,” Jon sighed, as the car bumped over a speed bump. He hadn’t heard another car for hours now, and he knew that they had to be in the middle of nowhere. The weather had grown colder, more humid, and occasionally he could hear the bleat of cows. It was...calming. 

Then Martin started listing off the very many reasons why Jon was a classical Byronic hero, then Jon had to remind him that none of that stuff had technically happened, then Martin began insisting that it happened in their hearts, then Jon got deeply engrossed into today’s episode of the Archers and felt the need to inform Martin about its illustrious and aged history, which prompted Martin to put on Hatsune Miku when the episode was over and indoctrinate Jon into whatever ‘Vocaloid’ was, and by the time the car transitioned to skittering over bumpy gravel they were both entering a heated discussion about the most superior of the ‘Vocaloids’. 

“ - and she created Minecraft?”

“And she’s trans,” Martin said heatedly. 

“Good for her,” Jon said, just bemused. The car engine quieted, and keys clinked and rustled. “Are we here?”

“Yep! Seven hours later.” Martin sighed and made a quiet, satisfied noise, probably stretching, and Jon didn’t bother to fight his smile. Man was like a cat. “I want to show you around and everything, but honestly that drive was exhausting and I might take a nap first.” He sighed happily. “Peace. Quiet. No coworkers.”

“I’m your coworker,” Jon pointed out, opening the door of the car as Martin did the same. He stepped onto gravel, grinding his trainer a little into it, and breathed in. The air tasted...fresh. Clean. Pure and just a little chilly. It was nice. It perked Jon up, as the wind lightly tousled his curls. He stretched his legs too, cramped from being knitted up in the small car. Martin popped the boot and started loading packages into his arms, and Jon walked over and held his arms out so he could help Martin carry the packages. Martin dropped a picnic basket filled with snacks in his arms, and handed him his own suitcase, as Martin dropped his own suitcase on the ground with a heavy thump. “How does a teenage girl create a video game? That’s very impressive.”

“This week you are my boyfriend,” Martin corrected him, thumping the boot down. “No Emma getting on my case about misfiling the papers. No Michael concern trolling me. No Eric judging me for my taste in tea. No Gertrude terrifying me every second of the day. I am free. I am not going to think about work, or anybody related to work, for a single second. No Entities. No fear demons. No monsters, besides my boyfriend.”

“Thanks,” Jon said wryly. “Aren’t we forgetting someone?”

“Oh, darn it!” Martin opened the back door of the car, and pulled out a carrier. The wire door of the carrier cinched open and Tiresias came bounding out, barking madly and running in little circles around Jon, his tail beating against Jon’s leg. Jon laughed, lifting his burden higher in his arms, and let Martin loop his arm around Jon’s and guide him towards what he had to assume was some kind of building. “C’mere, boy. Good boy! You were so good for the trip! You’re getting a hundred snacks as soon we get inside.”

“Are you going to tell me where we are yet?” Jon asked, exasperated. 

Martin squeezed his arm happily as they walked up an incline, shoes scuffing dirt. “I got permission from Daisy to borrow it. It’s her cabin, just outside of Applecross. It’s really in the middle of nowhere, nobody around for kilometers. Just us and a great deal of cows. It’s really gorgeous, Jon, with such clean air and beautiful hills. I can’t wait to go for walks with you. You’ll get so much time to go through your audiobook collection. And we can snuggle, and I can cook for you, and we can listen to more radio dramas, and we can talk about our future, and you can pet the cows…”

“Sounds wonderful,” Jon said honestly, squeezing Martin’s arm back. They paused, Martin rustling his keys again, and Jon heard the grinding of metal before a door seemed to creak open. “I can’t wait to spend this week with you. I could use a little peace, I think.”

“Gods, me too. You have no idea how stressed I’ve been. It’ll be just you, me, and -”

That’s when Martin screamed, and Tiresias barked excitedly and ran forward, almost bowling Jon over, and a familiar voice broke the quiet of the rustic cabin. 

“Aren’t you a good boy, Tiresias? Aren’t you a good boy?” Daisy Tonner’s grin was audible through her words, but it held a familiar tint of ferociousness. “Hullo, Jon. Blackwood. What are you doing here a week early?”

“Early!” Martin squeaked. “I said we were coming up the first week of September -”

“Really?” Daisy said, voice casual. Seemingly. “Because I have it down in my calendar as the second week. This is my vacation. And I’m not leaving.”

Silence stretched between them. Jon smiled happily towards the sound of Daisy’s voice, placing his burdens at his feet, and soon Daisy walked forward and enveloped him in a bone cracking hug. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Jon said, hugging her tightly back too. “I’m sure we can share the cabin for the week. It’ll be fun, like a sleepover!”

“Oh, I think so too,” Daisy said, her voice tinged in a wolf’s grin. “Don’t you think so, Martin?”

“Good fucking christ,” Martin said. 

****

True to his word, Martin was exhausted enough that he immediately made the bed and collapsed into it. Jon lovingly took off his shoes and socks and Tiresias even, adorably, pulled the comforter up around Martin’s ears. But Martin didn’t sleep: he seemed preoccupied in angrily muttering to himself about how he didn’t get the time wrong, she did, this was all her fault, and it was also completely on purpose, devil woman, everybody was trying to ruin everything - 

“Love, if I ask her to go, she’ll go,” Jon said. 

“No! Ugh!” Martin screamed lowly, muffled, and Jon realized with amusement he was screaming into the pillow. “It’s her house, she’s doing us a favor, I don’t want to be rude! I can’t kick her out of her own home!”

“Are you going to be passive aggressive at her until she leaves?”

Incriminatingly, Martin was silent. 

“She’s more stubborn than you are. If you try to solve this with your usual methods she’ll outlast you.”

“I hate her so much,” Martin groaned. 

“Don’t say that,” Jon said loyally. “She’s really come around to you, you know. She hasn’t threatened to chop your dick off in - oh, two weeks now. That’s a new record.”

Martin groaned again. Jon kissed him on the cheek, turned the light off - “Jon, you just turned the light on.” - turned the light off for real this time, and went into the living room/dining room/kitchen to start putting away all the food they had brought. He bent over his suitcase, withdrawing Tiresias’ harness, and whistled to call him over before snapping the harness on. Tiresias stiffened into what Georgie called ‘Buisness Boy Mode’, and Jon grabbed his handle with one hand as he loaded the groceries into the other. 

“Here, let me help.” Daisy lifted the other load from the floor, leading the both of them into the kitchen and opening the fridge. “I know Georgie’s organizational system.”

Jon just sighed, slowly navigating his way to the fridge to put his own load away. They had clothing to unpack, things to set up, and arrangements to plan, but Jon had the sense that none of it was getting done immediately. 

“What were your plans for this week?”

“I normally go up here to hunt,” Daisy grunted, sliding cans into the cabinet. At Jon’s raised eyebrow, she clarified, “with guns. They’re all locked up in the gun cabinet, as is my ammo and knives. Neither you nor Martin have the keys, but the cabinet is in a closet near the bathroom. That should be locked too.”

“Goodness, Daisy, I’m not an errant toddler. I won’t play with your collection.”

“You’re my errant toddler,” Daisy said loyally, giving him a noogie and making him scowl. “Say it. Say you’re an errant toddler.”

“Goodness, Daisy, leave me be -”

Then she lifted him up, like he was nothing more than a bundle of sticks, and held him in the air as he screamed and kicked his legs, trying to get down. Tiresias, the Traitor, the Serpent, the King of Lies, barked happily. “Let me down! Daisy!”

“Say you’re an errant toddler and I’ll let you down.”

“I shan’t. Daisy, stop -!” But then she started tickling him, which was extremely dangerous, and Jon was forced to cackle out in breathless laughter, “Fine, I’m a toddler, let me down, you crazy woman!”

She tossed him lightly onto the pull-out couch, putting away the rest of the groceries herself, and Jon let Tiresias sit on top of him and lick his face as he could almost audibly hear Martin pouting in the bedroom. 

“This’ll be fun,” Daisy said, shutting the cabinet and rustling some familiar boxes. “Can’t believe Tim paid me fifty quid to do this. I would have done it for free.”

“Do what?”

“Never mind. I have your copy of Life, do you want to play?”

“Sure!” Jon sat up, feeling Daisy sit down next to him and set out the game pieces. Then something occurred to him. “Wait. What are you doing with my copy of Life?”

“Georgie lent it to me.”

“...why did Georgie -”

“I was going to leave it here for when you came up,” Daisy said easily, and Jon nodded in acceptance. “Spin the spinner to see whose turn comes first.”

Jon considered thinking deeper about this, but Daisy wouldn’t lie to him. She was the most trustworthy person he knew. She didn’t have a deceitful bone in her body. He shrugged and reached forward and found the spinner, giving it a good twist before rubbing his thumb over the braille. Something occurred to him. 

“Maybe we can ask Martin if he wants to join -”

“I’m sure he would prefer his rest.”

“Okay!”

This vacation was going to go great. Why had Jon been worried?

****

That night they had a delicious barbecue outside, cooked by Daisy. Martin ate it in angry silence, which was quickly broken by Jon’s frequent nudges and directions for conversation. He wasn’t the most socially adept person at the best of times, but Martin and Daisy were two of his best friends and he knew how to get the both of them talking. He was even able to draw them into a spirited conversation about 19th century literature - Daisy preferred Russian novels, while Martin preferred Gothic romances and Hugo and Jon tended towards nonfiction. Afterwards Daisy grabbed her gun, kissed Jon on the cheek, did something that made Martin squeak in fear, and tramped off to go hunt deer or something. Jon waved her off with a blessing, his sixth sense thrumming with satisfaction for the Sacrifice. 

He spent the night cuddled up with Martin, watching Beauty and the Beast on his laptop. Martin was obsessed with Disney movies in a way that explained a great deal about him, and Beauty and the Beast was his absolute favorite. Jon ran his fingers through his soft and feathery hair as Martin squeezed his hand, and Jon’s heart settled in complete contentment. The audio description voice droned gently about the heartwarming falling in love montages, but Jon wasn’t really paying attention: he just felt safe, and warm, and as if he wanted the moment to last forever. 

Then his mobile rang, a clear automated voice saying “Gerard calling. Gerard calling.”

“Oh, I should get that.” Jon straightened, throwing out a hand on the coffee table where he thought he had put his phone, and Martin pressed it into his hand. He accepted the call quickly, putting it on speaker and holding it up to his ear just like, he was reliably assured, ‘an old man’. “Hello, honey?”

“Jon!” Gerry yelled. “Did you get the cabin okay?”

“Oh, so everyone knew but me,” Jon said, amused. “You’re on speaker, Gerry, so say hello to Mr. Blackwood.”

“Hi Martin! Are you guys having a good time? You have to take me next time, I want to see Daisy’s guns!”

“You will not see Daisy’s guns,” Jon said quickly. 

“Hi Gerry,” Martin said, a smile clear in his somewhat strained voice. “Sure, you and Georgie should come up next time. Make it a party. Why not.”

“Told you she’d do it,” Georgie said, and Jon perked up. “Hullo, love. How’s your romantic getaway going?”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Jon said, excited. “We’re going to walk down to the town tomorrow, check out some of their antique stores. I’ll let you know if we find any interesting art.”

“I’ve been up to Daisy’s cabin a few times with Melanie, it’s delightful. Great place for her to hunt and for me to practice my carrion photography. It’s always nice just to get away from it all! I hope you haven’t touched any work, Jon.”

“I haven’t,” Jon said loyally. He paused a beat. “Do Statements count? Because I was planning on listening to a few recorded ones as a sort of bedtime story?”

“That’s just self-care,” Georgie assured him. “Treat yourself, queen.”

“Thanks, honey. Make sure Gerry gets his homework done? Do you need any help? I have some time now -”

“I got it,” Georgie said, laughing slightly. “I can still help a fifteen year old with his English. I’ll make sure he brushes his teeth too. Just enjoy yourself.”

“Have a good time, Dad!” Gerry called, the affectionate nickname making Jon smile. “Bring me back a cow!” Slightly more muffled, Jon heard him say to Georgie, “Mum, when Jon goes on a romantic getaway, what do you think they -”

“Night, honey! Night, Martin! Love you!” Georgie called loudly.

Jon laughed, unable to stop himself from waving a little, as if they were there. “Night, you two. Love you too. Stay safe.”

“We will! Bye!”

The line clicked off, and Martin’s arm stretched across Jon’s shoulders squeezed a little tighter. Jon extended a foot and clicked the space bar on the computer, starting up the movie again. 

“You’d make a really good dad,” Martin said, almost to himself. 

Jon settled back against Martin, leaning his head against his shoulder. “I feel like one already, honestly. Obviously, I have far more experience with teenagers than babies, but they can’t be that hard. If I don’t drop them…why?”

Martin coughed a little, abruptly flustered. “No reason! No reason.”

“Do you want kids?”

“Can’t exactly have them biologically,” Martin muttered, before sighing. “Yeah, I’d love to...foster or adopt or something. I’ve had my - differences - with my parents, but I’m still glad they adopted me, you know? I’d like to pass that on. But...better. Much better.”

“Georgie is talking about fostering again once Gerard moves in with Eric,” Jon said quietly. The thought of Gerry moving out, of living full time with Eric again - it just seemed weird. Almost wrong, although it wasn’t - Eric adored Gerry, and he was a competent father. It was just that...well, technically, Gerry had been living with them since the beginning of the universe. On a purely literal level, they really had always had Gerry with them. It would be strange. “As a - recipient of the foster care system myself, I’d like to make a difference too.” He smiled thinly. “We’re very compatible, aren’t we?”

“Would it be...you and Georgie…?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

Martin sighed a little. “Is it dumb that sometimes it feels like you already have a family built in?”

Hm. Jon hadn’t quite thought about it that way. “You know those jokes about me and Georgie being married are just jokes,” Jon said reproachfully. 

Martin moved away a little, leaning forward, slipping his arm from Jon’s shoulder. He abruptly missed the warmth. “But you’re partners. You’re raising a kid. And I know Daisy and Tim think of themselves as your overprotective big siblings, they aren’t even wrong.”

“Many people have siblings? And friends? Some even have kids, I’ve heard.”

“I don’t.” There was really nothing for Jon to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. “I don’t want my entire social circle to just be through you…”

“It won’t be,” Jon said firmly, reaching out a hand and brushing it against Martin’s arm. He squeezed it firmly. “You don’t have to be Lonely anymore, Martin. I won’t let you.”

“Is that a promise?” Martin said, as if he was joking, as if Jon wasn’t certain that he wasn’t. As if he needed the reassurance. 

“How can you be lonely when I’m here?” Jon said, and trailed his hand up along Martin’s arm until he reached his neck and he could cup his face. He rubbed a thumb against his wispy stubble, light and thin. “I’m right here.”

Martin kissed him, and then the movie was quite thoroughly forgotten as Jon necked with his boyfriend on the couch like a teenager. They forgot everything, and for a small period of glorious time Jon forgot everything that he knew, in all of its entirety, and his Eye saw only the here and now. 

Then the door thumped open, the wind blew into the cabin, and heavy footsteps thumped into the room. Something dragged behind the footsteps, something that sounded a bit...wet. 

Martin, who was thoroughly on top of Jon and almost done unbuttoning his shirt, froze. Jon just craned his head, trying to hear the sounds of what was likely a dead deer being pulled in through the entrance way better. 

“Hello Daisy!” Jon said, still pinned down. “How was your hunting?”

“Lucrative. We’re eating venison tomorrow.”

“Great! Need any help getting that put away?”

“No, I’m good.” Tiresias barked happily. “Here, boy, you can have a little. Good boy. I’ll probably skin and clean it outside, I just wanted to get my gloves.”

“Take your time!”

Martin sighed and got off Jon, straightening his own clothing. “Yeah, Daisy, take your time.”

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” Daisy said blithely. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You’re fine,” Jon assured her, fixing his own hair from where it had grown tangled. “Want to finish this movie with us?”

“Sure, let me gut this animal first.”

“Great! Scooch over, Martin.”

“You know,” Martin said, “maybe we want to move to the bedroom?”

“If we stay in the living room I can hook up your laptop to the television and we can watch the movie that way,” Daisy said innocently. 

“That sounds good,” Jon agreed. He patted Martin’s hand. “Is that alright with you?”

Martin sighed. “Yeah. Of course.”

That night, Jon curled up next to Martin on the creaky wooden bed, listening to the flies buzz around them and the crickets hiss their lilting song outdoors. 

His earbuds were still nestled in his ears, the soft hum of his Walkman cutting the quiet night, his own pre-recorded voice reading out a story. Martin sat next to him, and occasionally Jon could hear the soft shift of the pages of a book turning. Every so often Martin would gasp, or make a little noise at some exciting event in his book. 

Jon rolled over, throwing out an arm and pulling Martin in close, resting his head on Martin’s shoulder as he let the earbuds roll gently out of his ears. Martin was soft and warm, the cotton of his t-shirt rubbing up against Jon’s cheek, and Jon let his mind gently bliss out and drift away. 

He thought about the breakfast he wanted to make the next morning, and of the soft beat of Scottish sun on his face. He thought about the creak of cobblestones as jumped-up jalopies rolled over them, and of the shifting and groan of old wood. He thought of the bright, sharp summer smell of the highlands, and the sinking and sticky marshland. 

“We should visit the antique store in town tomorrow,” Jon murmured. “Georgie’s been looking for a new lamp, and I think they should have a nice Rococo one for cheap.”

“Oh? Maybe I can pick something up too.” Martin gently scratched Jon’s scalp, making him bliss out even further. “Nice of you to always loop us in on the best deals, you little shopping catalogue.”

They, of course, had not been to the town yet, and there was no reason for Jon to know of the antique store, or the Rococo lamp. Jon hadn’t even thought about it, the information as available and easy as the layout of the convenience store down the street and a left turn from his childhood council flat. 

Martin’s voice broke the quiet, cutting through the buzz of insects. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know everything,” Jon yawned, snuggling into Martin’s side closer. 

“Not what I meant.” Martin hesitated, almost awkwardly. “You’re a literal mind reader and everything, but I’m not, so…”

“Oh, Martin.” Jon reached a hand up and cupped Martin’s cheek. “I built this world from the bedrock of my love for you.”

“Uh - wow! That’s - it’s kind of weird how you can just say that and have it be true!”

“Our lives are weird,” Jon agreed, brushing his thumb over Martin’s lips, and he carefully leaned his head up to kiss him, and they passed the long silent minutes just like that. 

Several hours later, Jon found himself jerking awake. Martin was snoring beside him, and he couldn’t feel any sun on his face, so Jon figured it was likely still nighttime. He carefully slipped out of bed, reaching out a hand and trailing it along the wall until he managed to leave the bedroom, navigate down the hall, and enter what he was fairly sure was the living room. 

“Jon?” A voice broke the night. Daisy, who had taken the pull-out couch. “You looking for the loo?”

It was only then that Jon realized that he didn’t know why he had gotten up. Tiresias snored loudly in the kitchen, adding a subtle undertone to the noise from outside, and Jon found himself shrugging helplessly. “I don’t think so. Did I wake you up?”

“Nah. Hold tight, I’ll help you to the couch.” Sure enough, after the almost silent footsteps echoed through the main room Jon felt a soft hand on his back, and she led him towards the couch. Jon lightly kicked it, testing its height, and gently lowered himself onto it, the springs of the pull-out bed breaking through the night. “What has you up?”

Jon just shrugged again. The bed creaked beside him, and he felt calloused fingers carding through his hair with gentleness that would have been surprising to most people. 

“Am I a bad boyfriend?” Jon asked, surprising himself. He hadn’t even known he was thinking that. 

“Did Blackwood tell you that you were?” Daisy asked sharply. 

“No! No, not at all.” Jon sighed. “I just...I just have different needs than him.” He could already tell what Daisy was thinking, and he shook his head. “Not about the - the you know what thing. I just...I know how much he loves me. I know what he thinks of me, I know his dedication to me. Sometimes I just assume that he’s - capable, of what I’m capable of. Do I not tell him I love him enough? Am I not affectionate enough?”

“You aren’t as perceptive as you think you are, Jon,” Daisy said, amused. “I think you’ll find that Blackwood has quite a few more secrets than you think he does.” She untangled her fingers from his hair and squeezed his arm. “Blackwood’s insecure. All insecure people want mindreader boyfriends. But you force him to use his words and ask for what he needs, Jon. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s good for him. He needs to learn to speak up for himself.” She hummed slightly. “He reminds me of Basira, a little. She’ll never tell you that you bothered her, and she just lets it pile up and up. But then you go just a little too far, and then she explodes all of that pent up anger and frustration on you. She likes to pretend she’s a real robot, but she’s just as human as the rest of them.”

“I’m so terrified of Basira,” Jon said miserably. “Remember when I dropped a plate and she told me that the reason why my gran didn’t love me was because I was an attention seeking nine year old?”

“She’s so mean. I love her so much.” Daisy patted Jon on the back. “Buck up. I’m working on Blackwood. You focus on enjoying your vacation.”

Jon let himself lean to the side, resting his head on Daisy’s shoulder. “I’m worried that Martin will realize that I’m not capable of expressing romantic affection in a socially typical manner and leave me.”

“God, shut up, whiner.” But the bed creaked and Daisy’s head gently slid out from under his shoulder, and Daisy gently helped Jon to his feet. “I’ll get you back to bed. Bitch about your imaginary relationship problems to me in the morning.”

Translated: I love you, I’ll always be here for you, and goodnight. Jon huffed a quiet laugh. “Aren’t the lights off? How can you see anything?”

When Daisy spoke again, a quiet bass growl echoed underneath her words, and Jon grinned with her. He Knew, like how he Knew that he loved Martin enough to destroy the world, that Daisy’s eyes were flickering yellow in the darkness. “Don’t be fooled by appearances, Jon.”

She helped him back to bed, and when Jon slept through the rest of the night he dreamed of nothing but Martin’s weight on his. 

****

“What a beautiful morning!” Martin said loudly. “The birds are chirping, the Scottish highlands are beautiful, I am here on my romantic vacation away from everybody with only my lovely boyfriend for company - and Daisy Tonner!”

“Glad to be here,” Daisy said affably. 

“This is so much fun!” Martin said, still loudly.

“I think so too!” Jon said enthusiastically.

Tiresias barked. 

After a breakfast pointedly prepared by Martin, they all got dressed and saddled up to go walk into the village. It was a quick walk, only about twenty minutes, and Martin and Daisy enjoyed the scenery as Jon enjoyed the warm grip of Martin’s hand in his and the breeze on his face. 

When the trail began sloping further downhill, and their footsteps began to slide against the incline, Jon pulled what Gerry would have called a ‘pro-gamer move’ and moved his grip up until he was clinging to Martin’s arm. Martin sprayed a hand out, resting it against Jon’s back, and helped him down the trail. 

“Whoah! You alright, honey? Careful of your step!”

“Jesus christ,” Daisy muttered. 

“It’s hardly Jon’s fault -” Martin began heatedly. 

“Yeah, Daisy,” Jon said, delighting in setting them against each other like the cold, uncaring god he was, “check your privilege.”

Then they were off, because despite Daisy was allergic to social consciousness, and Jon whistled a jaunty tune, composed in the 15th century and unknown to all but its lonely shepherd creator, as they navigated their way downwards. 

The village was small, nothing more than two streets with cheerful wooden facades and swing porches set out on the decks with wizened elderly people sipping from bottles of Irn Bru and smoking down cigarettes to the dregs. At least, as narrated by Martin, who seemed to already be mentally writing his small-town murder mystery in the Scottish highlands (Martin’s poetry needed work, but his fiction held a certain massmarket appeal). Knowing Martin, the protaganist would likely be either a grandmother with his own personality, or a thirtysomething gay man who had twelve counts of arson on his record and was running from the cops. 

Wait. Wait, Jon should use his words. Ask instead of look. Display interest in Martin’s inner life - which, granted, seemed to be a waste of time when Jon could just Know and not waste his breath, but Georgie had been coaching him in this. 

“You should give the ex-con narrator a boyfriend,” Jon said supportively. “Maybe bring back the gay bar owner from the last book?”

Martin almost tripped over the gravel. “How did you know I was thinking of - Jon, I told you not to read my mind!”

“Lay off, you know he doesn’t do it on purpose,” Daisy said uninterestedly, growling at what Jon guessed were passerby on the street. 

“Daisy, stop telling me how to talk to my boyfriend -”

“Oh, he’s your boyfriend now, is he?”

“Yes! Yes, he is!”

“Let’s get some ice cream!” Jon said loudly. 

“How did you even know there was an ice cream - fine! Fine, of course!” Martin sighed loudly. “Why not!”

As it turned out, they were right in front of ice cream. Jon loved it when things worked out. 

****

Twenty minutes later, after Martin laboriously reading out all of the entirely too many flavors to Jon, Daisy growling at everybody at the store like an errant dog, fighting with the owner of the store extremely politely about his actual dog existing, and finally taking their ice cream outside to sit at a picnic bench and attack their waffle cones, Jon felt content. 

He indicated this by telling everybody everything he knew about emulsifiers, which were extremely neat and a lot of fun! Because nobody was stopping him talking by saying ‘let’s talk about something else, Jon’ or ‘isn’t that a bit boring, Jon?’ he moved onto the history of waffle cones, safe in his assumption that everybody was as interested in the topic as he was. 

“I love you so much,” Martin said, somewhat dazed, when Jon stopped to draw a breath. “Did you know that this is the second time this has happened?”

That stopped Jon short, when nothing else did. “Really? Has it?”

Martin’s spoon scraped his small paper bowl. “Yep. Uh - for my birthday, I think. Me, Tim, and - and Sasha, and you. You ordered rum raisin. I was thinking...did you actually like rum raisin? Or did you just panic?” He laughed, somewhat self-consciously. “You didn’t remember about it even before the whole apocalypse thing, so no sweat, but…”

“Oh.” Jon realized, for probably the fifth time, that Martin held years and years worth of memories in him, and that Jon had only fragments and impressions. He knew that he had everything important, that everything he needed was within him, but - did he? What if he was missing the key to everything, the key to Martin, and all he needed was to just Look deeper? “That’s - I could remember it, if I wanted.”

“It’s fine, Jon,” Daisy said quietly. “Don’t go giving yourself a migraine.”

“I could,” Jon insisted. “I’d like to remember something like your birthday, Martin. Precious memories, or - or something. Give me a moment, I can send a quick prayer, and -”

“You know,” Martin said, and he squeezed Jon’s hand. “I’d rather make new memories right now. Where we are right now, that’s - that’s the most important place, innit?”

Jon smiled at him, and he knew, in the most mundane of ways, Martin was smiling back. “I like to think so too.”

“Ugh,” Daisy teased, although perhaps to an outsider it may have sounded mean, “get that sappy shit outta my face.”

“You’re just as bad with Basira,” Jon shot back, smiling. “You two are in love -”

“Take that shit back,” Daisy hissed. 

“You want to get married -”

“Who told you!”

Jon tapped the lens of his glasses smugly. “A little Eye told me.”

“Beholding cuck.”

“No, that’s Peter -”

“Martin would know all about Peter, huh?” Daisy sneered, and the pressure on Jon’s hand intensified for a brief second before it withdrew completely, leaving his hand cold and empty.

“Jon, can you give me and Daisy a few minutes of privacy, please?” Martin said pleasantly. 

Jon raised an eyebrow, licking the ice cream dripping down his hand. It was Vast flavor. Tasted like...ozone. “Why?”

“He doesn’t know the area, you can’t send him off alone,” Daisy shot back, strangely smugly. “Come on, Blackwood. Whatever you want to say to me, you can say it in front of him.”

“You know what, fine. Fine!” Martin thumped the table, making Jon start and Tireasias stiffen. “I have done nothing that warrants this kind of treatment from you. You are disrespecting me, disrespecting my relationship, and you are insulting my fucking intelligence. I appreciate you loaning us your cabin, but if I knew that it would come with strings attached then I would have paid for my own bloody hotel! Why are you doing this!”

“Tim gave me fifty quid,” Daisy said, like the wolf that had caught the canary. “Plus it’s fucking funny.”

“Done what?” Jon asked, confused. 

“I want you out of my vacation, Daisy,” Martin hissed. “If you won’t leave the cabin, then I am booking my own Air BnB and that’s fucking final! I don’t care if I have to - to fight you in the street about it, I can and I will, you don’t want to mess with me -”

“Sure.”

Martin stopped short. Jon licked his ice cream, fascinated by the drama. “What?”

“I said sure,” Daisy enunciated clearly. “I was waiting for you to fucking say it. I told Basira I’d be home by tonight, anyway. Knew you’d snap.”

“I - what! What! What?!”

“You’re a pushover, Blackwood,” Daisy said. “Your coworkers, your friends, everyone - they just walk all over you. It’s fucking stupid. You are the archival assistant who survived the apocalypse with memories and sanity intact. You lasted longer on the position than anyone since Emma Harvey, and you didn’t have to lose your soul to do it. You looked Elias in the face as you burned his Archives down. You’re not a pussy. And I was sick of seeing you act like one. It’s fucking annoying.”

“I hate you so fucking much,” Martin whispered, somewhat in shock. 

“Well, I hate seeing my best friend date a passive aggressive loser, so we’re both unhappy.” Daisy stood up, feet shuffling against the cement, and Jon felt her press a kiss against his forehead. “You two have a nice day out. I’m going to go hunt things, and head back to London. Take care of yourself, Jon. And cut out the PDA, it’s gross.”

Suddenly, violently, with a crushing realization, the entire vacation was recontextualized. 

“I don’t appreciate any of this,” Jon said crossly, scowling in her direction. “Honestly, Daisy, you don’t -”

“Blame Tim. Love you, Jon. Love you, sweet puppy. See you later, Blackwood.”

Jon and Martin sat in silence as the sound of footsteps receded from Jon’s hearing, and the low murmur of the small village set in around them. Martin still seemed to slightly be in shock, his ice cream slowly melting, and Tiresias yawned sleepily in the sun. 

“I hate her so fucking much,” Martin whispered. 

But Jon just smiled, and reached out to brush a thumb over Martin’s close-cropped hair. He leaned in, whispering into Martin’s ear. “Hearing you yell at the scariest woman I know who isn’t Gertrude Robinson was pretty fucking sexy, love.”

“I hate her so - wait, it was? Really?” Martin coughed awkwardly. “Well, she really had it coming, and it’s not a huge deal, and I know she’s your best friend and I should be nice to her, but -”

“ - but she was right,” Jon said firmly. “An arse about making her point, but she was right. I’m working on using my words. You should too. All of the books say communication is key in a relationship. So let’s communicate, alright?” He faltered a little, uncertain if Daisy would want him to say this. “And - and it was obvious, from what she said, that Daisy respects you. It’s a very difficult thing, to win Daisy’s respect. I think she was trying to help us, in her own - unorthodox manner.”

“I hate her so much,” Martin groaned. 

“It was very sexy,” Jon hinted. 

Martin leaned in and kissed Jon lightly, and Jon could feel his smile against his own. “How about we finish our food,” he said quietly, “walk around town for a bit, buy some souvenirs for your family, and then go back to the cabin and snog and cuddle for a very long time? If that’s okay with you?”

“I’d like nothing more,” Jon said. 

And he was right. It was messy, and weird, and painfully uncomfortable.

 It was perfect.