I can’t be the only one who thinks that Kolivan will end up being the real Dad Friend right? Bc tbh at this point Shiro is truly just Very Tired not to mention missing plus I headcanon that Kolivan had a family that he lost.
So lets say at this point he doesn’t have any practical understanding of just how young the paladins are, like he gets that they’re young but not that young. So he finds out that these defenders of the universe who just successfully went toe to toe with Zarkon himself are youths and he just “What??? They’re children!? My own children would be their age!” And that’s all it takes for a metal switch that he didn’t know he still had to be flicked on and these four weird Earth teens are officially His now. He puts effort into each of them, uniquely according to their needs and interests. He’s the one who points Keith in the direction of his mother, he helps Pidge find more clues to locate her family, he teaches Hunk about how to hotwire Galra tech, he’s the one who sees Lance’s insecurities and addresses them in a constructive and positive way bc you can’t tell me that 10,000 years of hiding hasn’t taught the BoM about the value of soldier morale.
Finds out Keith’s an orphan?
I am Your Father Now.
Hunk and Lance miss their families? Pidge’s was taken from her? I Will Ensure Your Safety in Your Father’s Places.
And imagine the possibilities for father/daughter stuff with Kolivan and Pidge? Like he’s just so enamored by this teeny tiny human who barely stands waist height to him but has such a strong heart? She’s so capable and daring and smart and devoted and kind of reminds him of his own daughter? And with no hesitation she’ll just climb on him to get at something and bc she likes to feel tall but she’s so small that he barely even notices the extra weight? He joined them on the training deck once and owned the guys but didn’t see leetle Pidgey come up behind him until she zapped and tripped him and the others are like “oh shit she dead” but he just beams at her proudly bc “you got me!” then proceeds to pitch her across the room. After this he gives her a Galra nickname that basically means ‘little warrior’.
It takes some time but eventually the team comes to look to Kolivan as their surrogate father, asking his advice, seeking his counsel and just generally enjoying being around him bc he recognizes that while they are the Paladins of Voltron they are also normal kids who sometimes need to have fun and he reminds Allura of this constantly bc bless her but she’ll drive them into the ground otherwise.
And when they get Shiro back Kolivan doesn’t even hesitate to help in any way he can bc omg this poor man needs it.
Kolivan becoming a valued member of the Voltron fam guys.
Annabeth! She's going to speak! Come on quickly!!!
What are you going to say? Sally?
Percy! Stop interrupting her! And it's Grandma sweetheart
Sweetheart?? Seaweed Brain??Sherlock??
SPIDERS ARE VICIOUS, CRUEL MONSTERS THAT MUST BE KILLED AT FIRST SIGHT. THEY ARE CUNNING AND DREADFUL AND ARE FOES TO BE FEARED AND ONE MUST ALWAYS, ALWAYS BE ON GUARD AGAINST THEIR ATTACK.
*beaming proudly* *picks her up and pats her head*
Person A has really great hair. Soft, long, always perfect in every way. Person B is hopelessly in love with it and makes a habit of stroking it absentmindedly, braiding it, running their fingers through it. On top of that, it’s been the same way ever since they’ve been together. So it’s kind of a shock one day when B comes home to A beaming proudly, sporting a new crew cut, and exclaiming “What do you think?!”
Fanfic Request: You and Gaston happily married with children (all the romantic fluffiness!).
i told myself i needed to write a fic BUT I WAS LIKE “HEADCANONS INSTEAD”
Living in the countryside away from the hustle bustle of village life. Probably a simple far, a place where Gaston can clear his head and be himself without having to worry or put up a facade for others. He loves it really, and he wouldn’t ask for anything else.
A place where he can literally put his feet up (You only rub them when you feel like it, he doesn’t actually pressure you to do it). A place where he can enjoy a beer in silence. A place where he can think and be with the things that matter to him.
The two of you are always up early enough to watch the sun rise. Imagine sitting beside Gaston, watching the sky change color in front of you. He wraps his arms around you and tugs you closer. A small kiss is placed to your forehead. A few more minutes before your children wake up, he thinks. That’s all he needed. Was a few more minutes alone with you in quiet and peace.
Imagine the two of you being lucky enough to have a boy and a girl.
Gaston loves them so freaking much, and actually, they look a lot like him. Dark hair(thick hair), same skin tone and they both happen to have his stubbornness. (Which can cause problems sometimes.) Gaston actually fights you on this sometimes(Playfully) and tells you that they look a lot more like you, “I can see your smile in theirs when they laugh”. Rolling your eyes teasingly, you kiss his lips softly and whisper, “You old romantic.”
Imagine him tangling flowers into his daughters hair after she asks him to do it. He knows he’s not good at it but he still tries. She gives him a warm kiss to his cheek when he finishes and she scurries off to show you. “Momma, momma look what papa did!!” You look down at her, smiling brightly, “It’s so pretty.” You brush a stray hair out of her face, “Your papa is so good at that, huh? He puts them in my hair too.” She nods happily and looks back at Gaston with an even wider smile. He feels his heart melt.
She probably convinces him to let her put flowers in his hair too. Just imagine that. She looks at him sternly, grasps the sides of his face and brings his head down enough so she can reach his hair. You’re standing off to the side, watching him with your son in your lap. Laughing quietly, you urge her to continue. Gaston gives you a playful glare. “I hope those are purple flowers. Purple is a good color for me.” He says to his daughter with a small laugh. Your son joins in eventually and he starts putting flowers in Gaston’s hair, coordinating with his sister as to what color he needed.
Imagine Gaston taking his son hunting. But, while preparing, his daughter comes up and asks if she can come as well. After talking to you, and you agreeing, he takes both of them with him. Imagine his son holding onto the back of Gaston’s jacket and holding his sisters hand while they track. Both of them are super invested.
Imagine them coming back and your son is literally about to bounce off the walls because he actually managed to shoot a duck. Your daughter is resting on Gaston’s shoulders as she got tired on the way home. You take her carefully, rocking her back to sleep as she stirred with the movement as Gaston places a gentle kiss to your cheek before beaming proudly. “He’s going to be a good hunter, just like his father.” He looks at your son, still going on and on about what he had done. You see his father in his personality.
Gaston tells them about his time during the War before bedtime. Says it’s their bedtime story. You usually sit and listen.
“When I was younger,” He pauses and reflects, “much younger….”
Your son gets so excited hearing about it because wow, his father was a hero.
Your daughter on the other hand, likes the ending when Gaston explains how he met you and how he fell in love with you after the War and how you bring out the best in him and how much he really does love you and them.
“Your mother was so…” He has to think about his word choice, “Beautiful… Gorgeous… She swept me away and hasn’t let me life a day without her beauty ever since.”
Monitoring your PDA because your kids do not appreciate it when you kiss each other in front of them.
Your son pretends to gag and your daughter yelling at you to “STOP KISSING.”
Sufficing on gazes, small kisses to the cheek and Gaston wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer until the kids are put to bed.
I was about to say ‘don’t get me started on domestic Gaston’ but get me started please.
Absolutely a man who tries to cook you breakfast for your birthday but almost burns down the entire house. He just doesn’t cook often enough to know. He ends up getting help from the kids, and things turn out okay. (He only burned it a little).
Probably tries to do the dishes here and there too(Especially when he’s sucking up to you). Always tells you, “That’s a really good workout for your arms. I’m surprised they’re not as big as mine.” You roll your eyes, flexing your arm teasingly. “Aren’t they?”
You asking him to help you with cleaning the house and doing the laundry, and for a second he looks at you like “who do you think you’re talking to?” but the glare you give him back gets him to agree and he ends up helping the kids take the laundry outside to dry.
Gaston lifting up your daughter as she pins clothes to the line to dry. Your son tugs on his shirt, begging to be picked up too.
When you go out to check on them, the basket of laundry is still sitting there and Gaston is on his back, the two kids on top of him. They’re all laughing. Gaston catches eyes with you, “They’ve got me pinned, (Name). I can’t move!”
It’s late at night and the two of you had just put the kids to sleep after what seemed like hours of wrestling them into bed in the first place. You sigh softly, gazing at your love before making your way to the kitchen to clean and put away dishes before bed. Gaston looks at his children a few seconds longer before following you. Leaning against the doorway between the kitchen and living space, he smiles slightly, “I know I told you that two children were enough for me, but have you ever thought…?” “About having another one?” You asked, finishing his sentence. Tilting your head to the side, you could feel the heat hit your face. “I wouldn’t mind… three more even.” He smirks softly, making his way towards you. Kissing the back of your neck and then the shell of your ear, he murmurs to you, “Three? A bit too eager, are you?”
MMMM BOI I HOPE THOSE WERE OKAY. if you liked them, i can make more! Thank you for reading! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!
Genre: Romance, Fluff POV: Reader’s POV and Zach’s POV (Stated before a section)
A/N: Here’s my second request done! This was fun to write especially because the girl in the write-up is extremely similar to who I was in high school. Haha. And it’s the first time I’ve posted an imagine with different POVs. Please do tell me how this all works out or if you guys want me to stick to first person. Enjoy everyone!
Hey I was wondering if you can do an imagine where Zach falls for a girl after they talk about their favorite things and about what they want to be after high school. Like he’s passionate about being a marine biologist and he loves the sparkle in the girl’s eyes when she talks about her favorite books and how she says she wants to become an author or something along those lines. Maybe she even lets him read some of her writing?
He was the captain of the school’s basketball team, I was the student body president. He was often involved in after-school detention, I was always involved with extracurricular school activities. He was the class clown, I was the class nerd. He had girls running after him, I had boys running away from me. He was 6foot3, I was 5foot7.
I could probably go on with this list but I’m assuming you already catch my drift. We were polar opposites, which was why when our Media teacher chose us as partners for our upcoming media project, I couldn’t help but complain to him after class. Of course he stood by his decision and I was stuck with Zach Dempsey for a week.
Monday after school
“So, what is the project all about again?” Zach asks me while spinning on his desk chair like a 5 year old.
“Can you stop doing that please, my head’s starting to spin now.” I say as I rub my forehead with my eyes shut. A soft sorry escapes his lips as he stopped.
“Mr. Andrews said I have to do a profile about you, and you have to do the same for me. We can use any media we like as long as we’re creative with it. I’m planning on doing a powerpoint.” I reply as I go through my notebook.
“I guess I’ll just do a documentary, it’s the easiest thing to do and I’m pretty good at video editing.” he says as he looks up at the ceiling.
“Alright, fine, let’s get started then.” I suggest and we both get to work. I take a blank piece of paper from my binder and start interviewing him.
“So Zachary Dempsey, would you care to tell me some of your interests, your hobbies, likes and dislikes?” I ask him while clicking my pen.
“Interests: basketball, hobbies: basketball, likes: basketball, dislikes: the color orange, although funnily enough that’s the color of the ball.” he answers and I roll my eyes at him.
“Zach, I already know that you like basketball. I need other information.” I reply.
“Oh, so you want to get to know me better, eh?” he retors with a smirk growing on his face.
“Not known for his modesty.” I mumble to myself as I write it down my blank piece of paper.
“You need to chill Y/N, I was just kidding.” he says as he leans back on his chair and laughs. I exhale deeply and proceed with asking the questions for his profile.
“For the second time, please tell me some of your interests, your hobbies, likes and dislikes.” I say.
Voltron legendary defender Klance "I cradled you in my arms!"
Keith’s hand begins to sweat in Lance’s grasp. He stumbles over tree roots and loose rocks as he’s pulled through the forest at Lance’s insistence, and they’ve been walking some time now.
“Whatever you want to show me better be worth it.” he grumbles. He’s missing dinner for this. He tries not to think about what delicious meal Hunk is whipping up back at the castle. His stomach growling makes it difficult.
“Not too much more,” Lance smiles over his shoulder. He easily navigates the path like he’s walked it numerous times. He barely hesitates to hop over a log that Keith only barely manages to see in the darkness. They turn a corner and come to a clearing. Lance slows and listens to Keith’s soft gasp. His eyes widen and take in the sight in front of him.
There’s a pond, that must be filled with some kind of bioluminescent organisms, because it glows bright blue in the darkness. The banks of the pond are covered in large, fragrant white blossoms that look brilliant against the light of the pond and bright moon in the sky. Dark rocks erupt out of the earth, and are so polished that they look more like mirrors. A breeze rushes through the low hanging branches of the trees and carries with it something that smells like jasmine. Keith approaches the glowing water, transfixed.
“Here,” Lance leads him to a flattened side of the bank. A blanket has been laid out and a woven basket sits beside it. Lance begins to kneel on the blanket.
“What is all this?” Keith breathes.
“Happy anniversary, babe.” Lance throws his arms out proudly. Keith beams… then falters.
“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Lance grabs Keith’s hand and tugs him down onto the blanket. He kisses the back of his knuckles.
“Time gets really confusing out here. I honestly forgot my own birthday one year. You’re 22 now. Did you know that?”
“I think I recall someone telling me that?” Keith laughs. Years slip by easily in space. The only markers of time having passed are old photos. Lance used to be so skinny, and Keith used to be so soft and bright-eyed. Keith leans forward and runs his knuckles along the bristles of Lance’s undercut.
“You got so handsome.” Keith smiles. Lance laughs in his throat. His hands reach up to scratch behind Keith’s large ears that are now permanently covered in a soft, purple, fur. Galra puberty and being exposed to quintessence in battle had permanently brought out some of Keith’s Galra ancestry. Keith had grown his hair even longer in an attempt to cover it up, but Lance will frequently braid his hair or tie it up so he can see them. He thinks they’re cute, and will whisper in Keith’s ears just how much he likes them.
“You’re still beautiful.” Lance serenely smiles. The blue glow around them brings out his eyes. Keith makes a self conscious huff and tries to pull away. Lance giggles and follows after him. He raises up on his knees and pulls Keith close, placing a kiss between his eyes.
“Do you want to swim or eat first?” He asks. Keith’s stomach tries to persuade him to answer one way, but Keith knows just how excited Lance must be to go in the water.
“Is it safe?”
“I had Pidge perform a water sample this morning. It’s harmless.”
“Yeah? I’ll swim first then.”
Keith smiles fondly as his boyfriend strips down to his boxers. His muscular chest flexes as he pulls Keith to his feet and begins to help him get his shirt off. Keith chuckles at Lance’s eagerness.
They slip into the water and the coolness is soothing on their joints. The bright, blue light blanches out the patches of purple that appeared on Keith’s neck and chest some time ago. A large scar stands out strikingly against Lance’s abdominals. They had definitely gotten older. Keith hates to think what a younger version of himself would say if he could see what he looks like now.
But then again, with Lance’s hands trailing streams of water up his back, and his lips beginning to sensuously beckon Keith’s mouth to open for him… he thinks 16 year old Keith would give up all of his limbs for this experience.
The water laps at their waist and Lance continues to kiss Keith senseless. Only after his lungs begin to burn does he pull back. He rests their foreheads together and cups either side of Keith’s neck with wet hands.
“Keith,” He breathes. “I have to ask you something.” Nervousness crosses Lance’s features. Keith’s brows wrinkle with worry. What was going on?
Lance begins to rummage in a small pocket on his boxers. He opens Keith’s hand and places something in the middle of his palm. A ring, so translucent you could mistake it for glass, but it’s heaver and there is the slightest blue sheen to it. When the light hits it, it casts dapples of light onto Keith’s hand.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Lance breathes. “And I wondered if you would let me?” The tiniest smile graces Lance’s lips. Keith stares at him in awe. His stomach twists painfully and tears come without warning. He nods with a sob. His fingers tremble around the ring in his hand.
“Oh Keith, babe.” Lance wades forward. A small wave crashes against Keith’s stomach from the motion. Lance takes the ring and slips it onto Keith’s shaking finger. Keith won’t stop nodding.
“Are you sure?” Lance laughs and kisses the tears off his cheek.
“I cradled you in my arms!” Keith loudly announces. Lance jumps back in shock.
“And I knew I’d never be able to let you go.” Keith’s eyes, filled with honesty and love, stare at Lance like he’s the most beautiful curse that was ever cast upon him.
BTS reaction seeing mean looking girl but actually she’s friendly
Could you do a long BTS reaction to them seeing a girl look mean and
cold but when she starts talking with friends she looks nice and
friendly? Hyung Line first than Maeknea(?) Line. Sorry, English isn’t my
Hope that it’s long enough >< Still it is short but not that short like my other reactions lol
Jin walk through the park after practice. He saw attractive girl sitting on the bench. At first he thought that she’s waiting for someone to sock that person because she looked so offended and in nerves. He wanted to come and talk with her but fear that he felt was too hard. When he was thinking about this, still looking at the girl, she catch his sight. She came closer to him and with the most sweet voice which he hear in his life, she asked if she can help him. He didn’t know what to think. Her cold face dissapear and in place of it showed ball of cutness. He couldn’t take his sight away from her. Then she laught because of his weird face expression. Jin slowly backed to his mind. He laught too and realize that maybe it will be nice to start closer relation with her.
“I’m sorry, my name is Jin. Are you waiting for someone?”
Girl: Nah. I were just sitting when I saw you observe me. I’m Y/n
“Yeah sorry. I just thought for a little bit that you are in nerves and….”
Girl: you mean that I look cold,right? Everyone tells me that.
“No,no,no—– Okay. Yes. But now I see how kind you’re. Maybe you want go drink coffee with me?”
Yoongi was working on new song in his favourite coffee. It was already 3rd hour and he stalled. His ideas ended and for the worse, group of girls comes. This few girls were making more noise than boys in the dorm. But one of them catch his eye. She came last and she stand alone behind her friends. She have cold looking face and her all black outfit didn’t help to not think that he can be kind of rude and presumptous. But Yoongi liked her style. He was looking at her for few seconds waiting when she’ll be alone to go and talk with her. He hope that maybe you won’t kill him when he would try to talk with you. For his surprise girls started to coming closer to him. They wanted to sit with him in the table becasue rest was occupied. When they started to talking he to liked her even more. She was cute, nice and the kindest girl that he met. When girls stand up and heading to doors, he quickly, softly took her arm and ask about phone number. When she gave Yoongi her charming smile and number, he felt like all his inspiration back.
“I know that you can think that I’m some kind of freak but how about exchanging our phone numbers? Btw- I’m Yoongi.”
Girl: “why not? My name is Y/n. Nice to meet you”
Group of girls. No great shakes.
But one girl captured his attention. She had style, moves like she is
walking on catwalk, all proudly and beamed with class. He couldn’t take
away his eyes from her, amazed with everything what she had (lol, it
sounds so badly). When Hoseok do steps to go and talk to her, she turned
to him and looked deeply in his eyes. He frozee and turn on his heel
like nothing happened and come back to his previous spot. He couldn’t
believe what he did. He saw attractive girl but he couldn’t believe that her glare and
rude expression made him leave. ‘Why the fuck I’m like this?’. When he
scold himself in his mind, he hear cute and soft voice behind him.
‘Excuse me? I think that few seconds ago you wanted to come to us,sorry
my friends are too shy to ask you’. Then he frozee again. Is this the
same girl? He turn to see her and ….. yes, it was her. He didn’t know what
to say. After awkard minutes staring at each other he finally spoke
“Sorry, I just mistake you with somebody”
Girl: “owh. Sure.
“Okay. Tbh I wanted talk to you but I freak out. I’m sorry that I’m saying this”
Girl: no, no. It’s okay. A lot of people are telling me that I look rude but when you meet me closer I’m really nice girl
“Do you want let me meet you closer?”
Girl: that’s why I send my friends to home. I hope for it.
“So from now on I can be your hope.”
One of the members which don’t care about look. So when he saw cold looking girl he wouldn’t mind it. If he will feel something to girl which make a first impression like- “don’t even come closer ‘cause I’ll kill you with my glare”- he wouldn’t mind it and come talk to her. This day he decided to spend some time alone in ice cream parlor because why not? Hhe catch his eye when she was walking in to place. Atmosphere of winter night which she emit just couldn’t be not noticed. She stand behind him, waiting for her turn to order ice creams. Namjoon was thinking how to speak to her. He was affraid that girl may take him for some kinf of the “player” and that he is always flirting with random girls . When he was deep in his minds he suddenly felt someone small hand on
his shoulder. He turn back to see this girl with the most adorable smile
that he saw. He forget about his first impression of her being ice
hearted person. Monnie awkardly wave to her and saw his chance to ask
you out or for phone number.
Girl: I’m sorry that I’m bothering you but I found this wallet on the floor and maybe it’s yours?
“Owh. No, it’s not“
Girl: Aish my bad. Sorry… *pause* Okay, tbh it’s mine wallet. I just wanted to talk with you.
“You too, huh? So maybe we’ll take a seat and meet eachother?”
Girl: Sounds like a nice plan. I’m Y/n.
Standing in the shop looking for products that Jin wanted him to buy. Two girls stand next to him talking, laughing and making plans for something. One of them was enjoing this conversation the most. Mochi would find this girl pretty and attractive but her face and her eyes that were telling to everyone to better don’t come closer or she’ll bite, slightly deter him. He doesn’t want to
eavesdrop on her and her friend but they were speaking really loud. Girls speak about voluntary organization and a charity fundraiser which this
two’ll be organizing for kennels. Jimin felt intrested in this girl.
Outside she looks cold, mean and pugnaciously but inside she comes
across as really nice person and worth get to know her. Chim eavesdrop
when and where will be this fundraising. When this day come he took Tae
with him-because this boy love dogs. While Tae was all fascinated with
this event, Jimin was looking for girl from shop. He saw her standing
alone, asking people for money to her charity box. Jimin go to her,
giving money and shyly starting a conversation.
“So how long are you volunteer?”
Girl: It’ll be three years.
“Do you want me to help you?”
Girl: why not? More hands to help.
She go to bring Jimin charity box for him. He turned back and looked how alive angel steps on the ground. *gif*
Fansign. One of the best way to meet your bias. Taehyung was enjoying fansign more way then ever. Among the crowd of his fans he saw girl with unusal beauty. She looked sad and deppresed for him. Sometimes her face made him felt shudder. Cold looking but attractive and mystery. Still he was intersted in her. Waiting till she will come to meet him and for autograph, he was making scenarios how to talk to her and make her laugh. But when he was trying, girl just looked at him, slightly blush and go away. He couldn’t forget about her even after fansing. When no one were watching, he quietly slip out unobserved outside. He saw her with 2 others girls from fansign. Taehyung heared how girls were talking about their experience from fansign and reconstruct it over again. Girl, which catch his eye, showed her real nature. She was too shy to make any move when Tae show to her attention. Her cute side make his heart stopped. When she smiled, her dimples showed and she softly blush thinking about that situantion.
Tae without hesitation came to her and started to talk.
“Hii. I think that you’re soo cute. You look like ice queen but in real you’re the cutest angel ever. Let’s go for a walk.”
girl: oh. yeah. Thank you? I can go for a walk with you.
Day like other ones. It can be like this but now he’s
sitting in restaurant, surrounded by girls, all screaming and talking in
the same time giving him headache. He wanted to be invisible this time.
Telling them to shut up or to leave him alone but he didn’t want to hurt them and in
internet could show articles that fame make him self-important and cocky. When he sadly
smile to one of his fans, one girl shouted “Ya all better go home and
leave him. This boy can’t even breath”. All of girls looked at her. Her
face looks killingly and intimidate. Fans bowed and go away before
she’ll frezee them with her sight. Then her friends come to her and
start to talkinf emotionally about what she did - “damn girl it was the
best action ever! You can be a security guard. This is a positive thing
in rude looking girl!” She smiled and started to laught. Kookie still
being in shook just stared at her. When he manage to say something, he
shyly said “thank you”. Girl smiled and with victory on her face, she
go to the door. Jungkookie woke up from his shook and call out her.
“Heey. Wait. Maybe there is something that I can do for you as a thank-you for help?”
Can you do one where lance gets extremely bad migraines all the time and he gets one one day and he goes to go lay down but the alarms go off? Shklance please!
Oh yes. My friend used to have migraines so i know they suck super bad.
Lance usually had migraines when he was super stressed out. It just happened and it made him absolutely sick. Sometimes vomiting when it was a really bad migraine. At times he would just take a nap for about three hours after vomiting up what he had eaten and crying until he was exhausted.
The tears just came out without him wanting them to, the pain forcing a reaction out of him. After breakfast with the team a migraine hit him hard. He gagged at the feeling of the throbbing and stinging pain. Lance barely coherently made it to his room and threw up in a small bin.
Groaning he crawled into bed, curling up as his head throbbed. He had dimmed the lights and kept his eyes shut. His head began pounding as the alarm for a mission went off. Crying out he sat up, the sound and light making his head feel crushed. Sighing he somehow managed to drag himself out of bed and into his armor.
As he stumbled along the way to the control room he tried to collect himself. Allura’s booming voice only made his situation worse. “Lance! You’re late again! Even longer today. If this had been a real mission imagine how bad that would have been for the universe, to be missing an essential part of Voltron!”
Lance groaned and pressed the heel of his hand to his eye. It hurt but somewhat alleviated the throbbing when distracted by other pain. “Sorry Princess,” he said in resignation, unable to find the energy to be sassy.
This surprised the team and Allura but she brushed it off. “Don’t let it happen again,” she said and turned around and pointed to a small area of floating rocks in the holographic space map. “You’ll be maneuvering through here today, as a unit,” She said, beaming proudly at her plans.
“Got it, lets go team,” Shiro said, not wasting a moment to slow down just a little bit. Lance groaned underneath his breath, somehow managing to find his way to Blue. She purred sweetly but that just made Lance’s head pound even more. “Sorry baby, today isn’t a good day, got a migraine again..” he whispered, dimming the lights the best he could in Blue’s cockpit.
Sighing he felt his head throb as the team began speaking through the comms as they took off. Blue sent waves a comfort through him, not daring to try and talk with Lance as to not hurt him more. Lance could feel himself getting worse and worse with each passing moment they flew. His hands were sweaty and slippery on the controls and bile kept rising up his throat.
Lance managed to swallow it back down but when Blue collided with an asteroid, he couldn’t hold it anymore. He threw up without warning, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gagged and dry heaved when he was done. The smell made Lance scrunch up his nose and he looked at the controls blearily. “Fuck,” he said and just then Keith had to talk.
“Lance what the hell!? You’re supposed to stay in formation!” Keith called out, making Lance’s head throb more. He rubbed his fingers underneath his eyes, pain behind his eyes and on his neck. His nose felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.
“Shit, man I can’t,” he croaked out somehow, theist burning from the stomach acid he had heaved up.
Keith’s tone turned worried and concerned. “Lance are you alright?”
“Just peachy my man…” Lance managed out as tear kept running down his cheeks. “I can’t breathe through my nose, my head is pounding to no end and I just love the smell of throw up,” he remarked, irritated like usual during his migraines.
“Damn, Lance lets go back,” Shiro said, not liking the idea of seeing Lance like that. Lance just hummed and leaned back in his chair, head pounding. “I’ll just take a nap here real quick..” he mumbled.
He was exhausted, he had barely even managed to train due to his migraine. Lance hates holding back the team usually but today he just couldn’t anymore.
“Lance? Lance!” Keith cried out, not getting s response. “Damn, Shiro we’ll have to drag him back. I think he passed out,” he commented and helped Shiro carry Blue back to the castle.
Keith helped bring Lance out, the smell inside Blue making him wanna get sick himself. “We’ll have to clean that up, or else it’ll dry and stain, Hunk commented offhandedly. The other paladins groaned at the idea of having to clean that up.
“We’ll figure that out but for now Lance needs to be cleaned up and a comfortable place to sleep,” Shiro said in a comforting voice. They agreed as Keith carried Lance away to get him cleaned up. They felt a bit guilty that they hadn’t caught the signs of Lance not feeling well, but when Lance woke up he didn’t blame any of them.
Though over the next few days he had a pressure behind his eyes and he felt hungover and sluggish. Everyone tried to help him the best they could but Lance didn’t accept the help easily. Lance tried to teach them to know when he had a migraine or when he was going to get one and they began to make sure they didn’t have to clean up vomit from Blue’s cockpit again. Let’s just say Pidge was not happy after getting stuck with that job.
A/N: Alright, I’m terribly sorry to my dear Twister Anon who has waited so long for this! I’m so glad you requested this, because I had a lot of fun writing this particular smut of mine :3 I hope you’ll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Lots of love to you, Twister Anon and all my PCY stans out there! x
Pairing(s): Chanyeol x Reader
Warnings: Vanilla sex
Requested: Yes, by my darling Twister Anon <3
Summary: A game of Twister with Chanyeol ends up being taken into the bedroom.
“God damn it, Chanyeol! It’s right foot on red, not blue”,
you burst out laughing, already twisted in an awkward position of your own. With
your left hand resting on the yellow circle and your right hand on purple, you’re
not exactly in a comfortable predicament.
To your left, Jongdae is twisted up in a human pretzel,
trying hard to keep himself from losing his balance as his giggles rumble
throughout his form. To your right, Chanyeol seems to be having a bit of a
struggle in keeping up with the instructions Junmyeon is diligently reading out
from his perch on the nearby barstool.
Read the first here! ~http://ofnifflersandkings.tumblr.com/post/158907528077/lovely-lovely-man
You awoke that morning to a beautiful spring day, the sun peaked through soft clouds as they rolled lazily in the sky of gentle blue. You could see the wind shake the leaves of the trees and the golden ends of the barley field next to your home.
“The flowers look wonderful this spring, Miss Fontaine,” You complimented the elderly florist as you examined her daffodils. “And what a lovely shade of yellow.”
“Thank you, dear.” She beamed proudly as you took two and placed them in your basket.
“And how are the lilies?” You asked as she reached under the counter for some shears to cut the stems of her fresh roses.
“Oh just fine, though I still think they’ll need a week or two to fully bloom,” Miss Fontaine saw the minor look of disappointment in your face before laughing softly. “You’ll be the first to hear when they’re ready.”
You smiled at her generosity. “Thank you, have you tried-”
Your words were caught off as the front door of the florist shop opened, a little bell chiming as it did. You whirled around to find a completely out of breath Lefou with his hands on his knees as he huffed the breath back into his lungs.
“Lefou? Are you alright?” You asked as you gingerly placed your hand on his shoulder.
He stood up straight and tall, turning to you as he heaved one final sigh. “Gaston…Gaston is looking for you.”
“Is he drunk again already?” You asked with a clear and sharp agitation to your voice before you placed your flower basket on the counter. “For goodness sake Lefou, it’s barely the afternoon?”
Lefou laughed but it was cut short by a cough as his lungs couldn’t take the strain. “No not-hing like that, I assure, Is there somewhere I can sit?” He asked while simultaneously falling backwords onto the bench by the window, though you still made sure he didn’t harm himself on the way down.
Patiently, you waited for the poor man to catch his breath before he spoke again. “But, Gaston still wishes to speak with you,” He said clearly. “Said it’s urgent.”
You sighed before setting your basket in front of Miss Fontaine. “Would you mind if I left these here? I shouldn’t be too long.”
The old woman giggled and waved her hand. “Don’t you worry about a thing dear.” She then gave you a mischievous wink which only left you perplexed.
Your eyes found there way back to Lefou who, regardless of his disposition only moments ago, was practically beaming.
“Is there something I’m missing?” You asked, turning your gaze between the two of them.
They both shook their heads and Miss Fontaine ushered you both out of the shop. “Everything will still be here when you return, don’t hurry.” She said with that girlish giggle again.
“Will you come?” Lefou asked as he placed his hat back upon his head.
“I dont really have a choice it seems,” You said as you brushed out the skirts of your dress and fixed your hair. “Lead the way.”
You and Lefou had become dear friends in the time you had known each other, so throughout the walk you made simple small talk about how nice the weather was or how lovely Villeneuve looked during Springtime.
Just as you rounded the corner to Gaston’s home, you grabbed Lefou’s arm to pull him back. “Be honest, what aren’t you telling me.”
Lefou laughed awkwardly and shrugged. “I have no idea what you mean!” He then saw the unwavering look upon your face and he sighed in defeat. “It isn’t my place to tell you, I made a promise.”
You smiled at him regardless. “I understand, thank you for escorting me here.”
He tipped his hat. “Good luck, Miss (Y/n).”
Lefou quickly made his exit before you could question him on his words, and with that you walked up to the door and raised on the brass knocker before dropping it against the dark wooden door.
Almost instantly it swung open and you were pulled into two very strong arms that whirled you around once you were inside.
“(Y/n)! It’s a lovely day isn’t?” Gaston said in a rather uncharacteristically cheerful voice, and when he set you back on the ground you looked up to his bright smile.
“You’ve certainly sobered up, last night you could barely keep your eyes focused on the same place.” You teased him as you closed the door behind you.
“Well of course I did, I had you taking care of me didn’t I?” He asked you as he lead further into his home setting you on the sofa before he held out his hands. “Here, close your eyes.”
You did as told, holding your hands over your eyes so you couldn’t see him.
“One moment…,” Gaston said and you heard retreating footsteps and a few rustling noises before you heard him return in front of you. “Okay, you can open them.”
You opened your eyes to see a full bouquet of perfectly bloomed white lilies held in his hand.
“Oh my.” You said with a broad smile on your face as you took thek from him. “There absolutely wonderful, where did you get them? Miss Fontaine said her lillies weren’t bloomed yet.”
Gaston pulled one of his chair from the dining table so he could sit with you. “I bought them from her and asked her if she’s keep it a secret, I knew they were your favorite.”
You gently set them down in your lap as you noticed the yellow ribbon holding the stems together. “Thank you, Gaston. It was very kind of you to think of me.
Gaston smiled, “Of course, the lilies aren’t the real reason why I asked to see you.” He said, though his voice was little more quiet and he had moved closer to you.
You looked up from the flowers to meet his eyes with a smile before looking back down at them. “Go on.”
“Well in light of our conversation from last night, there was a question I’d wanted to ask since you left.” Gaston took both of your hands in his and your gazes met each other and you nodded for him to continue. “I’d like to ask you if you’d like to marry me?”
You were completely taken back by the question it seemed to have knocked the air out of you. You’d never think the random conversations you two had after a night were he particularly had too much ale or wine would ever lead to this scenario.
Gaston saw the expression on your face and he couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I understand if this a bit too foward, considering we’ve never formally courted one another,” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small red box, placing it in your hands. “And I have every intention of properly courting you and asking for your family’s good graces, but I want you to hold on to this until that happens.”
You took the box in both of your hands, staring at with wide eyes before they met his again. “I don’t…”
“You may open it if you’d like. I promise all of the evil in the world won’t sprout from the top the moment you lift the lid.” He said, making you both laugh and easing the tension.
Curiosity got the better of you and slowly you opened this box, smiling whenever you saw the ring sitting in the pool of dark velvet. It was a similar shape and style the engagement your mother always wore, and one you always admired.
“I spoke to your brother whenever chosing it.” Gaston said as he looked down at it with you. “You don’t need to accept or reject me anytime soon, I’m more than willing to wait.”
His hands enclosed around yours and he closed the box. “I shall wait regardless of your answer.”
You opened your mouth before closing it and shaking your head at how silly you were being. “I think…,” You said looking up at him with a genuine smile. “Should the time come, I would like to marry you,” You said, watching the light encase in his eyes and his smile grow. “Very much so.”
Gaston leaned foward, careful not to crush your flowers, and kissed your forehead tenderly. “Then that is very good news indeed.”
Summary: At a con (VanCon 2013), you and Jared take the opportunity of the fact that both of you are single and more than ready to mingle.
A/N: I love Genevieve, Jared, and their marriage. This is not anti-Gen in any way.
You heard your name being called from just over your shoulder and turned, nearly smacking face-first into the massive cardboard wing of someone’s Castiel cosplay. The face five feet away seemed oddly familiar, and you recognized it as one of your Tumblr friends that you’d been planning to meet for several weeks. She was taller in person, and her long blonde hair hung neatly to the middle of her back.
CastielXPregnant!Reader, ft. Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester
Word Count: 1135
A/N: Drabble request
from anonymous – “Could you please do an imagine where the reader is pregnant
with twins (boy and girl) and Castiel is happy yet worried cause the babies are
Nephilim.” Well, this one went in a bit of an interesting direction. Fluff,
descriptions of child birth (nothing super intense), perhaps ever-so-slightly
angsty in the middle, and then even more fluff, cause fluff.
“She’s an angel.” Castiel stared awestruck at the sticky squirming
pink newborn held in his trembling arms.
“Yeah man, she’s beautiful,” Dean agreed, squeezing his
friend on the shoulder before aiding in the angel’s awkward attempt to swaddle
his infant daughter. Dean grimaced at the total ineptitude of Cas’ swaddling
ability, gently prying the baby out of his fumbling arms to wrap her securely,
“No offense, but she’s lucky she got her mother’s looks.”
“No Dean,” Cas corrected, shaking his head, tone
disbelieving, “I mean she’s an actual angel.”
“You mean?” Dean’s jaw slackened askance.
“She’s not a Nephilim.” The wash of joy and relief flooding
Cas’ expression was short-lived, drowned out by your renewed screams in the
The moment of sudden clarity when feelings are finally
recognized, or are made aware for the first time.
It hit you
on a Wednesday evening while you were at the gym as per usual. School was
killing you, but you were determined to stick with your workout schedule, even
if it meant sleeping an hour less or watching one less episode of your current
favorite kdrama. Just exactly why were you so passionate about working out?
[7:33PM] Jeon: If
you’re not here in 5 minutes then YOU owe ME all you can eat KBBQ.
AND ice cream.
It was as
simple as that – you just couldn’t, wouldn’t,
lose this bet with Jeon Jungkook.
Request: “Hi I was wondering
if you could write a Neville longbottom x metamorphmagus!reader? Where the
reader likes to hang around Neville and likes to listen to him talking about
the different plants and he notices that hair changes colors when she around
him but it stays the same natural color when they are around other people.”
Pairing: Neville Longbottom
Word Count: 1464
A/n: sorry if this sucks - first time writing this character :)
Today your hair was its natural colour. But to use the word “natural”
was somewhat stretching the definition. On normal days, your hair dulled to a
brownish-purple colour. Your mother, who had passed down this strange gene, had
said that the colour must’ve reflected your content moods. You soon learned in
your early days that your hair was a literal mood ring, displaying your
emotions for the entire world to see. And you hated it.
You were lucky to have no one tease you for your natural trait,
although many handled you with caution when your hair flared a deep red.
Friends would often come up and ask you what was wrong if your hair was a
sorrowful blue. The only time you felt that people were totally comfortable
around you was when your hair was the dark purplish hue that it subjected most
of the time. You remembered your first years at Hogwarts, concealing the colour
with a hat all the time. Since then you had become more comfortable with the
fact that your feelings were an open book, although you still felt a pang of
embarrassment whenever you were reminded of it.
It all seemed to change when you met a shy boy in fourth year.
Warning: Swearing, angst (come on guys it wouldn’t be me if there wasn’t a little drama in this) and umm sassy, witty, playful banter.
A/N: This is a spin off of Criminal Minds Penelope x Morgan relationship, only they end up together at the end. haha. There will only be like 5 or 6 parts to this at the most. Hope you enjoy, let me know if you want to be tagged.
You being the tech analysis for the Avengers, you’re at their call 24/7 specially when they take off on missions. You have a great relationship with the whole team, but the playful, witty banter you have with Steve is next level, your his favorite girl and he’s your blue eyed god. Little does he realize you’re harboring a deep, brooding love for him, now if only he returned the same feelings.
Okay, so I haven’t written fanfiction in a while. A LONG WHILE. And I’ve been sucked into reading Miraculous Fanfic since January, which means I’ve been holding out. So bear with me okay? For @baneismydragon ‘s MariChat May Collab
Marinette steeples her fingers as she leans across her desk, keeping her gaze stolidly forward as to not stare at the object just inches from her elbows. Her fingers rest at eye height causing her to focus on how light plays on her fingers, the translucency of skin and how she can probably play around dyeing fabric to simulate the watercolor-esque beauty of light and life. Alya would look perfect in the dress, Marinette adds, anything to keep her gaze from slipping. Anything to keep her mind from drifting to…
Ugh. It’s too late now; Marinette should just embrace it like Tikki said. She feels Tikki’s worried buzz a foot or so away, taking slow, quiet bites from her plate of cookies to give her some peace. It’s not working.
She leans forward, cupping her face in her hands and lets out a muffled groan.
“Can my yo-yo do this?” She breathes, jerking back as she grabs hold of Chat’s baton. In. Out. In. Out. She has to remind herself to keep breathing; otherwise, she’ll panic, then things will spiral out of control and turn into a mess.
“Of course!” Tikki chirps. “But it’s not like you need it. You already keep a diary with a lock of your own creation! You don’t need magic to keep your secrets safe.” She beams proudly at Marinette, and her charge tries to get a sense of relief.
“But why does Chat have one?” The question is damning for Marinette. When she hears the words escape her voice, she feels the sob clawing at her throat, she hates the threat and demand that tightens her vocal chords. The sound of it scares her, so she tries to play it off with a laugh. “I mean, what dumb boy keeps a diary?”
“Not all Chat Noir’s keep a diary, Marinette, but it’s asked that they do.” Tikki sets aside her cookie and floats to Marinette’s side. She sits just on top of the computer, forcing the young hero to lift her gaze.
“Why?” Marinette asks again, gripping the metal too tight, her gaze once again fixed on the glowing paw.
“Because he’s Chat Noir,” Tikki says as if that should explain it all.
“And they only do as they’re told?” Marinette is on her feet, kicking back her chair and glaring at Tikki. “Or because he’s bad luck and – and – and all he can do is ju-just wait for something bad to happen to him?”
Tikki cocks her head to the side, staring at Marinette with a vague curiosity. The hero knows this look; it’s the look Tikki gives when she’s about to throw out some ancient god history-information-whatever that Marinette should have known the moment she put on the earrings.
“Where do you think your luck comes from?” Tikki asks, folding her arms across her lap. It’s a calm question, one that lines itself with a quiet threat as if to say, ‘do not blame this on me.’
“You give it.” Marinette waves one hand. “I have it.” She waves the other. “I don’t know!”
“There’s a reason Chat Noir and Ladybug fight side by side together. They are a balance of creation and destruction, good luck and bad, give and take. You are equals in that sense. You both take what is given. Chat Noir’s gladly give their luck to those who need it more. They willingly take the bad because they believe in their hearts their purpose is to weather the pain. Ladybugs take luck in whatever form it comes in and throw away the bad because they know their luck will help others. Ladybugs are all about helping others.” Tikki soothes as if knowing this is supposed to be a comfort.
“How do I stop it?” Marinette asks. “I don’t want him taking it from me. We’re a team; we have an equal luck of each kind.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Marinette.”
“Then how does it work?” She snaps, throwing her arms out wildly. The baton slips from her hand and clatters to the ground. It pops open, showing a green screen with a list of numbers and time stamps.
“Whoah! What’s this?” Marinette freezes, hearing Chat Noir’s voice comes from the baton now rolling under her chaise. “Star Date–no–Captain’s Log…”
She dives for it, skidding on her rug. She hears his recorded laugh and finds the wind knocked out of her. She no longer has the strength to move.
“Okay, okay,” He chuckles some minutes later, causing her breath to hitch. “Log three. And I want to say this super important thing before I forget: My Lady made a pun. Not just any pun. She managed three puns in a single sentence! That’s practically im-paw-sible!” He laughs. “I think she’s warming up to this cat. I can see it meow, Chat Noir and Ladybug getting married under the Eiffel Tower!”
“Sap.” Marinette glares at the floor, curling into herself. She knows, in the beginning, the logs are short. They’re mere seconds and glimpses of moments long forgotten. She knows there are hundreds of entries in his baton and most of them are locked. She suspects those recordings have mentions of his civilian life. She wants to know more about him, but there’s a reason Chat Noir’s locked the file. There’s a reason why her diary is sealed in its box right now.
“Dear Diary,” Chat Noir says with a lovesick sigh. Marinette’s lip twitches into a scowl. She’s listened to this recording half a dozen times. “I’ve teamed up with Marinette again today and let’s just say; she’s a very bad actress. Or good, depending on how you see it.” He laughs. “So get this, she’s been acting. ACTING like she thinks I’m this super grand hero–which by the way, I am, no need to tell you that–and it’s kind of a bummer, really. Sure, I have fans, but the first few times I partnered with Marinette, she seemed to be my fan. Not ‘oh I love Ladybug and Chat Noir but mostly Ladybug!’ It was about me.”
He sighs before forcing out a laugh. “And yeah I know, it sounds narcissistic that I was excited over a fan that liked me more than Ladybug but you have to understand: Marinette doesn’t really talk to me. Not in civilian form. I’m worried she might hate me. In my normal life, she gives away her time and attention like it doesn’t cost her anything like she has all of it and then some to spare. And-“ He laughs again. “I know she doesn’t. She’s always running late for things or caught up in an Akuma attack or doing this or that. But when she’s with someone she’s there, nothing can make her move. And sure she talks about Ladybug but only when her friend Alya forces the issue. She’ll talk about me in a heartbeat.
“So I was glad, thinking she was mine. My-my fan, I mean. It turns out; she’s an Adrien fan. A BIG Adrien fan. I saw the hearts doodled on the posters.” Marinette can imagine his Cheshire grin and wants to smack it off his face. “She has no room for a poor stray like me.” He swoons. “Anyway, she dropped the act the moment I commented on her doodles. Who knew Marinette could be so sassy?” He laughs. “She reminds me a bit of My Lady with that attitude. I kind of like honest Marinette but I might ask her to pretend to be my fan, her swooning needs a bit of work.” He cackles before the recording abruptly moves to the next file.
Heavy breathing. Marinette grips the short fibers of her rug as tight as possible between his fingers. Chat curses from somewhere beneath her chaise. “Ah-“ He hisses. “Crap. No, wait, I shouldn’t curse but damn this stings.” He heaves a heavy breath. “I thought the magic prevents us from getting hurt. I thought this suit was practically bomb proof.” He hisses. Marinette can hear the sound of his baton sticking to rooftops and extending. He curses again. “Dad’s going to kill me. My Lady’s going to kill me. I shouldn’t have tried to do this on my own.” He whimpers.
The baton hits something metal; then there’s a grunt and crash, the tinkling of pottery breaking as Chat groans and hisses. “Ow.” He repeats over and over.
“Who’s there?” Marinette squeezes her eyes tight as she hears herself on the recording. “Chat?” She hesitates. “Chat!” Marinette can remember that night. Chat had been clutching his side “Oh my god, you’re bleeding. I thought the magic–”
“So did I.” Chat wheezed. Marinette remembers that day so many months ago. She pulled him through the trapdoor and resting him on her bed that he got blood all over her sheets, which she later explained as a ‘time of the month’ mishap to her maman. She bandaged him, brought him food and water and let him rest in her bed. She sat at the foot of it for the longest time, just watching over his pained sleeping form.
The following recordings are a series of highs and lows. There are moments he’s never been happier to be Chat Noir and moments he’s injured in some shape or form, crawling to her house.
“I’m not a real doctor you know.” She hears herself grumble in one of the recordings. It’s her only real complaint when he comes needing a field dressing; she can’t give him the proper care he needs.
“You’re purrfect, Princess. I’ll be the Cat’s Meow come morning; I just need a little glue holding me together until then.” Chat hums.
The next recording starts out quiet. Marinette knows it’s been months since his first injury and this one. If she strains her ears, she can hear the chatter of the streets and honking of cars below. She thinks she can hear Chat breathe. “Okay,” He says in a breath followed by the awkward scrambling sound of his baton being moved. There’s an ache in his voice, something painful that draws out the words slowly. “Tonight’s been,” He hesitates, “full of discoveries. I just found out some news from Plagg and something else.
“I guess I’ll start with the easiest bit: I like Marinette.” Marinette’s breath hitches in her throat again; she’s replayed this part too many times to count. “And I still love Ladybug. That’s complicated,” He scoffs, “all of this is complicated. She’s pretty, beautiful even, did I ever tell you that? And it’s not just physical, though that doesn’t hurt, she has a beautiful personality? Soul? She’s just all around beautiful. I’ve been visiting her for a while now: before patrol, after patrol, after attacks, even if I’m not injured. She’s always there, and we can talk about anything, which is a change from both my lives.” He sighs a little dreamily. “You should see her when we talk, her eyes lock onto me, and they don’t look away, and then I can’t look away. Her eyes have, like, a million shades of blue. How’s that possible?” He’s silent for a three count before he whispers, “I don’t know what to do.
“And then there’s what Plagg told me.” Chat groans, his voice slightly muffled, no doubt dragging a hand across his face in a moment Marinette is forced to imagine. “There’s a reason I’ve been getting hurt in the suit. It’s partially Hawkmoth’s fault, part Kwamii ‘nature of the beast,’ part my own stubbornness.
“I take bad luck. I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is. That’s okay; My Lady needs all the luck in the world to save Paris. I’m already pretty lucky outside the suit, a little extra bad luck won’t kill me,” He exhales sharply as a worried tone creeps in,“will it?” Another pause and he seems almost back to normal.
“Anyway, what with Hawkmoth akumatizing people like crazy lately- five in one day, who does that- My Lady’s been needing some extra luck to finish those battles, which means extra bad luck comes my way, which weakens the suit. Plagg said it doesn’t always happen; some Chat Noir’s never have to go through this, it just depends on how much we have to fight.” He sighs, and Marinette can imagine him running a clawed hand through his hair. She curls around herself even tighter because if he were beside her, she’d be hugging him and making stupid promises of never letting go.
“We have to find Hawkmoth,” Chat says, suddenly determined. “If I do that then the bad luck won’t affect as much. I can still be Chat Noir, Ladybug won’t be worried about me, and I can still be around Marinette. Sound like a plan? Great.”
The following logs are more professional, dates, times, and coordinates of places he checked for Hawkmoth’s lair. He mentions briefly if he’s been injured or if he’s visited Marinette.
“I think I know what home feels like.” Chat tells the recorder. He grunts occasionally, and Marinette knows he’s jumping across rooftops. The background noise is minimal, something she’s timed perfectly to the early morning. “I guess I’ve forgotten since my Mom disappeared. Damn, this is a beautiful morning, should I go back and wake her? I really want Marinette to see this.
“It’s, ah, December third, six thirty in the morning and the sunrise is amazing. I’ve, um, just left Marinette’s place,” He laughs awkwardly, and Marinette can just see him reaching to rub the back of his neck out of nervousness. “Last night I got injured more than usual.” His voice is a steadier, which tells her he’s stopped leaping around. “It was awful,” He admits, “And Marinette patched me up, but I wasn’t in any condition to leave so she let me sleep in her bed, like always. This time was different than always. There was the usual stuff; I kept the suit on because Plagg speeds up the healing, I slept on the right side of the bed, against the wall. I wasn’t sleeping, not really. I was in too much pain for that. So Marinette decides to crawl under the covers with me. She tells me stories of her time with Alya or helping her parents in the bakery, petting my head and holding my hand. She reminds me of my mom when I was sick. Mom used to lay in bed with me even though I was coughing up a storm. She was just there for me, like Marinette, and I realize,” He lets out a wistful sigh, “I haven’t felt this good in really long time.”
Another pause before he rushes out, “Also I purred sometime in the middle of that, so that’s…new. I guess it’s going to be a thing now…”
“Oh Kitten,” Marinette manages a smile, lifting her gaze high enough to see the glowing green baton beneath the chaise. She’ll have to move to get it, but she still can’t find the strength.
“December twenty-first,” Chat huffs. “I’ve been at this for hours, and there hasn’t been a single sighting of Ladybug. I’m tailing Juanita Million to see where she goes next, but there’s no point in attacking if Ladybug isn’t here to help fix everything. Hawkmoth needs to work on his puns: Juanita Million-One in a Million, how can he come up with something so terrible? And princess calls my puns bad.” He makes a couple of quiet jumps before continuing.
“Juanita Million is sort of like Reflecta. She’s changing everyone to look like crystal versions of herself. It’s kind of creepy, really. When she first started attacking she went on a super long villain monolog about how the boy she liked thought she was one of the guys? Or he couldn’t really see her? Or that she was really plain? I don’t know; if I’m honest, I was too busy avoiding her rays to pay attention. No way am I getting stuck in heels again.”
Marinette can’t help but giggle at that.
“Long evil rant short, she’s turning people into crystal reflections of her so she can she can shine bright like a diamond? Or that she’ll be the one to stand out? Again, my attention span was not there.”
“Chat!” Marinette hears her voice faintly over the recording. “Chat Noir! Over here!” She remembers waving at Chat from street level as he bounded from rooftop to rooftop. He was confused at first, seeing an akumatized victim, features faceted in crystal actively searching him out rather than hiding.
“Princess!” Chat yelps. “Princess, did you get caught?”
“What kind of dumb question is that, Chat?” Past Marinette grumbles. “I got transformed into glass, and now I’m constantly being blinded by light being reflected off of me.”
“Well, you sure do light up my life.”
“Chaaatt,” She groans. “I can’t decide if that pun is still better than Juanita Million.”
Chat scoffs. “It’s at least a few Kilowatts better.”
“Yes, Princess?” He asks sweetly, Marinette hears her past self sigh.
“I don’t think Ladybug’s coming anytime soon; I’m worried she got hit in her civilian form-”
“Like me.” Past Marinette confirms. “I did overhear Juanita saying only true love’s kiss can break the spell. It was something along the lines of, true love will recognize you in whatever form you’re in.”
“Hey, I’m de-lighted to say I recognized you immediately! That watt to count for something!”
“I’m going to be stuck in this form forever!” Past Marinette continues as if she never heard him. “I mean, what if Adrien doesn’t recognize me? And what? I’ll have to ask him? Without stuttering and flailing and going ‘uh-buh-good-Adrien-noon-after!’ It would be a miracle if I could even manage a ‘Kiss me, if you want to live!’ but that sounds way too Terminator and–”
“Can I act as his stand-in?” Chat asks. “I-I mean it’s worth a shot. I recognized you out of all the other victims, that’s worth something, right?”
“I–” She hesitates. “I don’t know. I guess? Just one little kiss?”
“Princess,” Chat laughs, “I’m not some frog claiming to be a prince. I’ll have you know I am a cat of the highest pedigree!”
“You still seem like an alleycat to me.” She huffs.
“Meow-ch, Princess! That hurts! It’s just one kiss. If nothing happens then, no harm done, but when you do change back, the only thing you’ll be blinded by is my stunning beauty.”
“Kitty, don’t get full of yourself. It’s just a kiss. Let’s just get it over with, okay?”
There’s silence for what seems like a lifetime to Marinette. She remembers what happened. Kissing him while he wasn’t under Dark Cupids control was different. He was hesitant and unsure, unable to decide if he wanted a quick kiss as promised or something more. But there was electricity, Marinette felt it too, tingling down to her toes. She expected the world to shift beneath her, she tried to blame it on turning back but her eyes were closed, and she had no way of knowing if that was true. He seemed to be searching for something in her, and she had found herself searching too, holding him tight in an attempt to stay upright as his arms pulled her closer and closer.
“Oh,” Past Marinette is the first to break the kiss and the silence that follows. She is breathless and panting.
“Oh.” Chat Noir agrees. “Hey,” His voice cracks a little. “You’re back to your beautiful old self.” A pause Marinette remembers was filled with well-meaning gazes. “You should-uh-hide. Don’t want you turning back again. Who knows if-um- t-true love’s kiss works-uh- a second time.”
“R-right! I’ll, um, just go hide, then.” Pounding footsteps drifts away from the recorder.
“Crap!” Chat Noir hisses. “It’s still recording! Well, uh, I guess cat’s out of the bag. I kissed Marinette.” A pause, “Now how am I gonna explain that to Ladybug?”
Two entries pass, more of the same boring professionalism of previous entries, though there’s a clear lack of mention of whether or not he visited Marinette’s. She knows he didn’t. She waited up every night waiting for him to knock on her trapdoor.
“It’s um, it’s-it’s,” Chat sounds choked up. “It’s December twenty-fourth. It’s the day my Mom went missing. I don’t really remember how it happened and it really hasn’t been that long. She was just gone Christmas day. They assume she went missing the night before. My father’s already moping in front of her portrait. He’ll be there for hours. He’ll remember me some time after lunch tomorrow. That’s… okay, I think? People all have their own way of coping, and that’s my father’s. I just wish we could; I don’t know, cope together. Instead of losing one parent I feel like I’ve lost both and I know that’s not okay.” He sniffles and then heaves a heavy breath. “I’m, I’m going to go patrol. Hawkmoth attacked with four Akuma’s yesterday, and I didn’t have time to visit Marinette. Um, well, who knows what he’s planning. He might akumatize someone again over Christmas, and no one should have a miserable holiday.” He sighs and then mutters, “Even me.”
“Okay,” Chat lets out a hurried whisper as the next recording begins. “Okay, okay, okay. It’s um, damn, what is it again? Oh! It’s Christmas day!” He cheers. “And, I might be skinned alive by my father any minute, and that’s fine. One of my nine lives can handle it.” He laughs. “Still terrified though, that’s why I’m running back now. It’s – ah – early afternoon. I spent the night at Marinette’s place, again. Didn’t mean to, she was on her balcony last night, and she looked so cute, and I wanted to hash out what happened with Juanita Million, and then we talked and talked and oh! She gave me a Christmas present! It’s a green scarf, and it’s so soft and warm. And of course, I forgot to get her a Christmas gift, so I panicked and kissed her. That went on for a while…” He breathes. “We stayed up playing board games after that, let me just say: Princess is a sore loser. Meow-ch. Needless to say, this valiant knight calmed her down with a series of kisses. It was downright heroic of me to do so. Anyway, Mr. Dupain finds us in the morning, both of us having fallen asleep in the middle of a card game and invited me for breakfast. It was paw-some. It was like being part of a family. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng kept feeding me, Marinette goaded her Dad into a round of Ultimate Mecha Strike III. It was great. I lost track of time, and well, here I am, trying to make it back to my room before Father realizes I’m gone. Maybe I can sneak back to Marinette’s later…”
Marinette’s trapdoor creaks open, causing her gaze to drift from the glowing paw to the pale hand flipping the door to the floor. A blonde mop of messy hair slowly comes into view followed by the biggest, dorkiest, and darkest sunglasses she’s ever seen. Maman must have bought those for a costume contest because they’re unmistakably feminine and does not belong to its current wearer.
Chat Noir takes slow steps up the stairs to her room, dressed in Tom’s oversized sweater and pants, he looks like a kitten bundled in blankets. Marinette can see the bruises on his cheeks, the cut on his forehead and the bandages peeking out of his collar. A small little black cat sits on his shoulder, nuzzling into the dark blue sweater.
“January eleventh,” Past Chat’s voice echoes through the room, causing current Chat to stiffen on his way up. “Marinette and I are dating now. I think. I did ask her, but she didn’t really give me a response. All she said is that it’d be hard with me in costume all the time. But then we made out for an hour, so I think we’re okay.” Marinette stares at present Chat, feeling her cheeks warm. “And I think it has to be this way for a while. I don’t think Ladybug will appreciate me revealing my identity to a civilian when we don’t even know each other. Marinette probably would have said yes to my alter ego, but I can’t justify it when she has all those Adrien posters on her wall. She has a crush on a celebrity, a mask of some kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’m the one who’s honest with her, and I’m glad she likes me, the real me.”
Present Chat crawls on his knees, closing the trap door before joining her on the rug, lying far enough away that only their fingers touch.
“And yeah,” He huffs. “The irony is not lost on me. I wear a mask too. When the time comes to know who I am, Marinette will already know. No matter the name behind it, I’m still her kitten.” Past Chat Noir giggles as current Chat beams fondly. “She calls me kitten,” They say together. “Isn’t that cute?”
Marinette stares at Chat, feeling his gaze but unable to see his radiant green eyes behind those bug-eyed sunglasses. They skew to the side as he rests his head on the floor, his messy hair falling in waves with gravity.
“Shit,” Chat’s recorded curse causes Marinette’s eyes to widen. “Four Akumas in one day again. It’s, ah, n-nearly two in the morning. And it’s, it’s pretty bad. Before Hawkmoth was sending quantity over quality but it looks like he’s managed to get both this time around. I-crap-I was hit clear across the city from the last attack.” His teeth chatter between heavy breaths. “Crashed through two bridges before hitting a boat and falling into the Seine. The Seine, in the middle of winter, how cruel could this Akuma get? Anyway, the Ladybug cure came by maybe ten minutes ago? I don’t know, it’s fuzzy. Everything fuzzy. I remember they repaired the bridge and the boat but just skipped right over me. And that’s, I don’t know, whatever? You’d think a Ladybug would help a stray cat.” He coughs and breathes a wet rattling breath. “Oh man that hurts. I don’t know if I can even see straight. I hope Plagg’s driving this suit, I hope he goes to Marinette. I can’t,” He chokes on a breath, Marinette can hear the blatant pain. “I can’t just disappear on her. I can’t.” He whimpers.
Marinette scrambles for the baton and shuts it tight before past Chat can say another word. She knows there are a few more recordings after that, but she can’t bring herself to listen to them just yet. They’re too close to the present, too close to how Chat looks right now. She knows the most recent one is what she stopped yesterday when he collapsed on her rooftop on the verge of death.
Yesterday was awful. She can still remember the blood staining the terrace, much more than she thought a person could hold. Marinette remembers being frantic, that she clumsily dressed most of his wounds. When Chat passed out, Marinette transformed into Ladybug hoping to give him a miracle; and it worked, somehow, though she’s still not sure how. He was still in bad shape, but his wounds were closed enough that she could call for help from her Papa and Maman to bring Chat inside and treat him properly.
She had to explain why Chat was on her rooftop. Why he kept visiting, why he was getting hurt, and why he came to her of all people. Some questions she answered truthfully; the others she left unanswered, her distress the only thing they need to know.
“You’re out of your suit.” Marinette whispers, clutching the baton tightly to her chest. How can the baton still be here when his suit isn’t? Will it disappear the moment he touches it? She doesn’t want it to disappear; she needs to know what happens next, even though she’s afraid to find out.
“Your parents needed me out of the suit to patch up everything. I’ll change back soon,” Chat promises. “I’m just giving Plagg a little breather. He’s been trying to heal me all day.”
“And now I’m tired and starving.” The little black kwamii flops in Chat’s hair, raising a paw to his forehead. “Woe is me; I’ll never fix Ad-Chat Noir like this. There’s no Camembert in the entire building. I’m too weak to move!”
“Plagg!” Chat warns. “The Dupain-Chengs are nice enough to let us stay in their home. You could be more grateful.”
“I’d be more grateful if I had some cheese.” Plagg grumbles.
“You had some Brie. Besides, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng already said she’d get you some Camembert. It takes a bit to get to the store, so stop complaining.”
Marinette can’t help but giggle. Plagg abruptly lifts himself from Chat’s hair and narrows his eyes at her. “Something funny, Pinky?”
“Nothing,” She tries to suppress a giggle. “You’re, um, just like siblings. I, I don’t have any of my own but Alya and the twins, they’re like that all the time. You guys really like each other, huh?”
“This lovesick kitten?” Plagg makes a gagging noise. “It’s a miracle I even let him put on the ring.”
“Hey!” Chat protests.
“You gonna talk about the audio journal or what?” Plagg ignores Chat’s protest and floats away, no doubt to where Tikki’s hiding. He says this on purpose, Marinette thinks, to steal away time with the other Kwami and layer the young heroes in thick tension.
She stares at the obnoxious sunglasses, feeling his firm gaze. She doesn’t know where to start. She wants to tell him her identity, wants to promise she’ll stop turning into Ladybug so he can keep his luck. But that’s a stupid argument waiting to happen, she doesn’t want to give up being Ladybug, and he definitely won’t let her.
Marinette wants to lecture him about being reckless when he knows he’ll get hurt. Then again, Ladybug has forced those moments more than a few times.
She wants to hold him, but he’s hurt.
She wants to kiss him, but his lips are split in a few places.
Marinette wants to tell him she loves him but he might not believe her. Not with the adrenaline high of him almost dying and the Adrien pictures she still hasn’t taken down. Not with Tikki hiding somewhere nearby.
“I’m scared,” Those two words slip past as tears break free. “Chat,” Marinette whispers. “Chat,” She sobs. “How can – and you – please don’t – I mean, just be – ”
Marinette doesn’t know what to say.
“Hey,” He whispers, calm and soothing as ever. “I’m here, see?” He reaches out, his fingers brushing her cheek. Oh. She’s never touched his bare hand before. She expects claws and cool material, not manicured nails and feverish skin. “We’re okay.”
“No, you’re not.” She chokes out thickly, rubbing furiously at her tears.
“I’m a superhero,” He says it like that’s supposed to assure her. “We all come with tragic backstories, it’s a membership fee.” Marinette scoffs.
“I agreed to this life, Princess.” He tells her. “I want to do this.”
“I want you to stay with me.” She sobs.
“I am with you.” Chat promises. “There’s nothing scary in that baton, Marinette. Everything that’s on there is gone. It’s over. I’m here right now.” He shifts, hissing as it aggravates something as he pulls Marinette into his arms. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“It’s plenty to worry about, Chat! Do you even hear yourself?”
“No, I don’t.” He admits quietly. “I make those entries, and that’s that.”
“Chat,” Marinette starts and stops as Chat holds her tight, burying his nose into her neck and purring, his last ditch effort to soothe away any pain they both feel.
“Play it, Princess.” He whispers into her back between purrs. “We’ll get through this together.”
I know you got about a Billion Requests (cause you're damn good) but, if those ever dwindle down I'd love to see Adrien introducing Maggie to his college's trans+queer group "this is my queer mama Maggie and her wife Alex" (regardless of whether sanvers is married yet, bratty kids y'know)
Alex wrings her hands in the car the entire drive over.
Until, that is, Maggie takes one hand off the wheel, reaches
over to the passenger’s seat, and laces fingers with her girlfriend.
“They’re gonna love you, babe.”
Alex takes a deep breath and nods and just turns up J. Cole,
losing herself in mouthing every word flawlessly (closing her lips, of course,
at every n-word), and Maggie’s thumb swipes across Alex’s hand in understanding
silence until she has to make the sharp turn onto Star City University’s
“You ready for this?” Maggie asks after she parks in front
of the Student Union building, and Alex’s eyes are in secret agent overdrive as
she assesses every single student walking by.
“I had a… rough time in college.”
Maggie watches her with soft eyes and a tilted head. “The
Alex nods, eyes fixed on a passing group of pajamas-wearing
students, one of the boys jumping up on the other’s shoulders, making the
entire group erupt in raucous laughter and a humorous backpack fight.
“I wonder how different it would have been if I’d known I
Maggie smiles faintly and leans across the car to kiss
Alex’s nose. “Wanna go find out?”
Alex bites her lower lip and adjusts her jacket. “You’ll
hold my hand?”
Maggie grins. “The entire time. On that note… wait there.”
Alex furrows her brow as Maggie practically hops out of the
car and jogs around to the passenger side. She yanks the door open and holds
out her hand to help Alex out.
“I’m a woman of my word, Danvers. You want me to hold your
hand the whole time, then I’m gonna do it the whole damn time.”
Alex blushes and slips out of the car, gulping at the idea
of finally holding another woman’s hand on a college campus.
“Adrian says the club room’s in the basement, first left
after the bookstore. This way.”
Alex holds tight to Maggie’s hand as they weave through
college kids with faces buried in their smart phones and college kids with
faces buried in their books and college kids with faces turning up into grins
that Alex doesn’t quite know how to interpret at the sight of Alex and Maggie’s
But Maggie’s stride doesn’t lose cool confidence, and Alex
finds herself turned on at the way her girlfriend moves in the world, the way
she navigates every space like she knows it so well, even when she most
Like she has a right to be in the world, even though it’s
worked so hard to convince her that she doesn’t.
They’re staring at a door utterly covered in an explosion of
rainbow flags before Alex knows it, and Maggie shakes her head.
“Well, Adrian’s clearly made his impact,” she chuckles, and
the sound relaxes Alex.
True to her word, Maggie doesn’t let her hand leave Alex’s
once, even as they nod at each other and Maggie pushes the club room door open;
even as there’s a high-pitched scream and Maggie stumbles backward slightly
with the force of Adrian’s hug; even as the blurry mass of excited college boy
shifts from Maggie to Alex.
“Good to see you too, Ade,” Alex wheezes, wondering vaguely
what would happen if Adrian and Kara ever had a competition to see who could
Adrian beams, his new silver stud earring glistening almost
as brightly as his brown eyes as he bounces on his toes and splays his hands
open to the rest of the room, which – Alex only now notices – is littered with
old couches and arm chairs, nearly every inch of the walls covered in art work,
in posters, in rainbow flags, bi flags, ace flags, trans flags, flags for
orientations and identities Alex doesn’t have the words for yet.
And scattered across those couches, chairs, and upturned
crates are teenagers in varying states of studiousness. Two are crouched in the
corner and utterly absorbed in their laptops, headphones in; others have
notebooks in their laps but conversation on their lips; and some are sprawled
in each other’s laps.
“Everyone!” Adrian announces with all the flair of a theater
major. “This is my queer mama Maggie and her wife Alex!”
Even the kids on their laptops grin at that, and one of them
takes out one of their earpods and gestures with a pen in Maggie and Alex’s
“Good to meet you two – we were all starting to suspect
that Adrian made up his mythically supportive cop friend and her lovely girlfriend,
Adrian, no one’s trying to pretend we believe you that they’re married yet.”
Maggie laughs and Alex blushes, and Adrian gasps in mock
“Are you questioning my honor, Dani?”
Dani arches a lazy eyebrow, a grin on their face, and looks
right past Adrian to Maggie. “Detective Sawyer, right? Are you two actually
“Not yet, kiddo,” Maggie answers, squeezing Alex’s hand as
she beams and Alex’s stomach somersaults pleasantly.
“Well, married or not yet, we’ve heard a shitton about you
both from this one,” a girl with buzzed hair and a green streak on one side
grins up from her sprawl on a femmey-looking girl’s lap.
“And we’ve heard a lot about you all. Lemme see if I can do
this,” Alex perks up, and Maggie beams proudly as her girl gets animated with
the rush of excitement, the rush of acceptance; the rush of a challenge where
she won’t be punished if she gets something wrong.
“You’re Mariah, and unless you’re up to something on the
side, that must be Carrie.” The girls squeal and Adrian and Maggie exchange
glances and beam.
Alex squints around the room and rattles off the names and
random facts about everyone in the room, and they all cheer more and more
raucously the farther along she gets. When she circulates back around to
Adrian, she holds her hand out to him.
“But I don’t believe I’ve met this handsome young man. Alex
Danvers, FBI. And who is your absolutely beautiful lady friend?” she asks,
cocking her head toward Maggie, and the kids in the room – even Dani on their
laptop – explode with laughter as Maggie blushes deeply and hides her smiling
face in the hand that isn’t still holding Alex’s.
Adrian doesn’t miss a beat.
“Pleasure to meet you, Alex
Danvers, FBI. I’m Adrian Rodriguez, National City born and bred, Star City
transplant, general badass. And my absolutely beautiful lady friend is Maggie
Sawyer, NCPD Science Division: into motorcycles, girls, badassery, reforming
the system she works in, and wildly kinky sex. I think you two’ll get along
Dani shrieks and Mariah leans over and smacks Adrian’s arm
lightly, and he ducks as both Maggie and Alex go for a playful headlock.
“Is anything I said untrue?!” he squeals, and Maggie’s blush
grows as she buries her face in Alex’s shoulder.
“You’re lucky I love you, Ade!” she stammers when she
finally turns around, Alex wrapping her arms around Maggie’s waist from behind
as Adrian laughingly leans in for a kiss on both cheeks, which Maggie happily
gives him to a chorus of awwwws.
They’re in a completely different city; in a public college,
whereas Alex had gone to Stanford; in a club room in the basement of the
Student Union, whereas Alex had spent her entire college career in the lab or throwing
up in the bathroom; surrounded by queer kids with bright smiles and barely
hidden scars, whereas Alex was just coming out a decade older than them.
CastielXReader, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Word Count: 1271
Cas-iversary Celebration drabble request by @dont-trust-humanity – “It
would be wonderful if you could write a bit the day after Cas and the reader
had sex for the first time together and he is very cuddly and Sam and Dean are
kinda acting awkward because of the huge amount of physical affection Cas is
showing.” Oh I do love an exasperated Winchester (obviously Dean most of all, cause
you know Sam is the super supportive bro) and a touchy feely angel – please
enjoy the fluff! Glossed over mentions of adult situations.
so much as a hair’s breadth of space had separated you and Castiel since you amorously
fell into each other’s arms last night. The way he made love to you for the
first time felt like worship - the angel tantalizing every inch of your
suppliant body with the reverent caress of hands and fingers, at first careful
in his touch, as though you might break from the sheer force of his love, then exploring
you unrelentingly with his lips and tongue, lifting you to extreme heights of
bliss with his grace, finally allowing you to assuage the physical needs
of his own vessel before you both succumbed to exhaustion. You gave yourself up
entirely to the angel, and he held nothing back. You were his now - his human,
his love, and he had no intention of ever letting you go.
Jack has been working at the desk next to Eric Bittle’s for the better part of three months now.
Over those three months, he’s become quite acquainted with the character of his blonde neighbor. He’s now familiar with his small, lithe frame, is quite aware that he can fold his legs into a pretzel even in his swivel chair, and knows when he’s approaching by the scent of butter and sickeningly sweet coffee. He’s well acquainted with his warm Southern tendencies, the subtle drawl over his vowels and the abundant y’alls in every sentence. He knows he always places his coffee to his left, though he’s right handed, he likes to write schedules and reminders on sticky notes that fall off of his computer screen and onto Jack’s own desk every-so-often, and that he has a soft spot for Chris Chow, the intern he’s been supervising these past few weeks. He’s even vaguely aware of his amazing pie skills, having tasted some of his baked goods because oh, no, Mr. Zimmermann, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried this, and because they’re ever-present in the snack room beside the plethora of cereals. And also because Eric Bittle has become somewhat of a Youtube celebrity, and everybody and their grandmother knew he was a pie-making prodigy.
God knows why he was placed next to Bittle in the first place. Sure, they were both executive video producers for Tasty—Jack for much longer than him, for sure—but Jack very much preferred to stay behind the camera while Bittle was usually in front of it. Jack mostly liked to keep to himself, anyway, and if he worked in teams, it was usually with Shitty or Lardo on the more artistically demanding videos. They’d been at brainstorms together, almost every other week, really, but never really collaborated on anything. There was also the glaring fact that Bittle tended to mindlessly chatter, and Jack was practically allergic to any and all forms of small talk. Most days, he was just grateful Bittle was so busy, he rarely spent long hours at his own desk.
But he and Bittle sat next to each other everyday, give or take, usually minding their own business, sometimes idly chatting about the new series coming out or their co-workers, with Bittle occasionally shooting him a warm smile and Jack answering it with a trying-hard-to-be-a-smile grimace. They’ve never once been assigned to same project, and Jack isn’t really sure if he’s relieved or dismayed, but he tries not to think about it too hard.
That is… Well. That’s all until one Thursday morning in November.