#(it may even be a bit late. probably not but. at this rate i mean.)

[outlying-hyppocrate]

artists & bands i recommend if you like will wood!!

jhariah: very theatrical, clever lyricism & unafraid to blend various genres into something he can so beautifully call his own.

bear ghost: has a sort of vampiric essence to them similar to will's. like jhariah, their music is theatrical & upbeat.

machinery of the human heart: also happens to be from new jersey. the music is composed of his haunting vocals & intricately played piano melodies. my personal favorite song by him is champagne from his first album, surgery.

human zoo: i haven't looked too closely at anything by them yet, but their album wealth and hellness features collaborations with will wood on the titular song & machinery of the human heart on the sixth track, fever dream.

sarah & the safe word: dark cabaret. need i say more ?

[indepthpokemonheadcanons]

10 Tips for Starting Pokémon Training as an Adult

It's never too late to become a pokémon trainer. That's what people say. But if you're anything like I was, you probably think that's a load of rubbish.

When I took up the hobby, aged 31 and working 9-to-5, I didn't see how I could ever fit in with - or catch up to - the people who'd been training pokémon since they were kids. It's not easy! But it would've been much easier with the right advice.

So whether you're trying to get back into an old hobby, or you're a total fletchling, here are the ten tips I wish I'd known before getting into pokémon training as an adult.

Look to shelters for the perfect partner pokémon. People make a big deal about growing up alongside a pokémon, but raising one from young takes time, money, and energy that you may not have. Most kid trainers can only manage it because mum and dad take care of the boring stuff (like buying feed, taking them for check-ups, and hosing them down when they run headlong into a bog). Shelters are heaving with rescue pokémon, many of which will have been previously owned by trainers, so they'll be a lot easier for a beginner to work with. On top of that, you'll be giving a pokémon a new home, which is vitally important.

Trainer cards are for you, too! This can seem like an obvious one, but I've met so many adult trainers who never even thought to get a card. Even if you're not planning to take on the League, trainer cards still get you great discounts on goods, Gym entry fees, and (weirdly) some restaurants and tourist attractions. You won't get your card for free the way that most kids can, but the cost is very reasonable.

Make use of night classes. Most Gyms, both official and unofficial offer discounted training sessions from 8pm onwards to capture the older market. They're a great pick if you work full-time and they're generally much quieter than the day sessions. The one downside is that the Gym Leader rarely attends, but the other tutors are usually pretty good - and they'll be less busy than the Leader, so more able to offer personalised advice.

You can take on the Gym Challenge without travelling. If you're busy studying, working, or raising children (or all three, god forbid!), you probably won't have the spare time to trek around the region battling Gym Leaders. However, with a bit of planning, you don't need to. Most Gyms take match bookings up to 6 months in advance, which means you can plan trips well in advance for when you have the time to travel out. Pop-up Gyms are also becoming increasingly common, where Gym Leaders will visit other cities for a few days at a time, run some workshops, and reach out to challengers in the local area. These can be busy and oversubscribed, but they're a potential option if you can't travel far.

Unless you've practiced it, don't throw your pokéballs into battle! Yes, it's what the professionals do, and they look effortlessly cool doing it. But it's not as easy as it appears. If you try it, you will end up hurling your pokéball out of the ring, and you'll have to awkwardly shuffle after it to get it back. There's nothing like that to kill your confidence before a match. Gym tutors can teach you how to throw pokéballs like a pro, but until you've mastered it, stick to just clicking the eject button.

Keep it simple, keep it Silph. If you're new to training, or you've returned to the hobby after a long time away, you'll be dumbfounded by the range of pokéballs on sale in general stores. Take deep breaths and try not to panic. Some of the differences are purely cosmetic, some only matter if you plan to be out catching pokémon, and others are just ways to get money out of you (I promise, you don't need Bluetooth-enabled pokéballs, or ones that claim to measure your pokémon's heart rate and stress levels). When in doubt, stick with Silph's classic long-life pokéballs. They cost a pretty penny, but trust me - their quality, longevity, and ease of use is unmatched.

Spend quality time with your pokémon. If you're completely new to raising pokémon, it's easy to dedicate most of your hours together to training. Remember to take breaks, for both your sakes. Spending time on fun, non-competitive activities will deepen your bond with your pokémon and bring you more in sync with each other. Brush their fur, take them for walks, let them watch you cook. It's okay to keep your pokémon in pokéballs, especially if you've got limited space at home, but experts recommend that they spend no more than 8 hours confined at a time.

If you're a returning trainer, remember that your partner pokémon might not be as keen to resume the hobby as you are. After a few years away, some pokémon lose their zeal for competition entirely. It can be tough to imagine battling alongside other pokémon, especially if you and your buddies go way back, but try to see it as a positive. It's a chance to forge new partnerships and try out new battle styles.

Learn from your fellow trainers, no matter their age. If you're an adult beginner, you'll definitely feel out of place next to all the young'uns taking on the Gym Challenge. Swallow your discomfort and ask them to battle! Kids are always up for a match, and they've got a wild, unselfconscious way of battling that you can learn a lot from. Just be prepared to lose a lot. And try not to gloat too much when you finally win against that annoying kid who wears all his Gym badges on his coat. (There's always one).

Know that you're not alone. It's definitely easier to get into pokémon training as a child, but that doesn't mean it's not worth doing later in life. Lots of successful trainers didn't start their careers until adulthood; Wulfric, from the Kalosian League, only got into battling when his young daughter did. Hassel, of the Paldean Elite Four, has written extensively about the difficulties of returning to dragon taming after spending over a decade in another career. Take inspiration from those who have come before you, and remember that you have as much right to this hobby as anyone.

[silverzoomies]

Screwball

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: smut, slow burn, kissing, hand jobs, loss of virginity, temperature play, mutant reader, ice powers, porn with plot, clunky writing

word count: 14,151

a/n: im so late posting this. i meant to finish this one like a month ago. but it's already september !! and a heatwave fic seems so out of season !! oh well !! i hope someone out there enjoys this. i went through hell tryin' to finish it. but i'm pretty happy with the way it panned out,,

apologies for the usual: clunky writing, slow as fuck execution, potentially ooc dialogue, etc etc etc kbgsjbdghsoiheg

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Westchester, New York had never seen such a record breaking heat wave.

And in all his reckless, fast paced years up to the ripe age of thirty, neither had Peter.

His fragmented memory is jam packed. Cluttered with disorganized checklists of every place he’s ever been. Not that he’s bragging or anything. But Peter’s basically seen the entire world, and then some. If one were to count those gnarly, X-Men space missions. He’d gone places no non-mutant could ever conceivably dream of reaching. From the deathly cold peak of Mount Everest, to the blistering sands of the Sahara desert itself.

Even with all that collected experience, Peter’s a hundred percent sure; he’s never faced summertime heat as insanely lethal as this.

Okay, sure. Maybe declaring Westchester as hotter than the Sahara might be a bit of a stretch. But to Peter’s credit, this heat wave is dangerous enough to warrant a citywide advisory. Which, in layman’s terms, means: don’t get ballsy. Unless you wanna end up fryin’ like an egg on the sidewalk.

The weather outside is so grisly, in fact, the X-Men themselves had to call their latest mission quits. Imagine that! Crazy, right? A fierce team of mutant heroes, capable of taking on behemoth sized sentinels. And even they didn’t dare another second in the heat.

Peter detached himself from the concept of religion ages ago. But thank the mysterious powers above, whoever they may be. Because he was legit two seconds away from collapsing to the ground, in a boiled heap of skin and bone.

He stumbles off the X-jet on wobbly legs. And no joke, Peter swears his muscles have somehow melted into jelly. It’s supremely embarrassing, the way he struggles to keep up with the team as they move ahead. They all stop before going upstairs, waiting to reconvene with Xavier. Organized in a careless, half circle; the X-Men look as though they’ve returned from an Olympic marathon. Their bodies exhausted, and blanketed in buckets of sweat.

Naturally, on account of Peter’s super dope, mutant genes; his body functioned at a nonstop rate of super sonic speed. As a repercussion, his average body temperature burned leagues hotter than any non-mutant’s. It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to dread the tormenting heat of the summer season.

In the blazing eye of a dangerous heat wave, swarming the city like an apocalyptic storm; Peter’s absolutely certain – like, for sure, he’s teetering on the brink of death. A miserable, stewing-in-your-own-sweat kinda death. Leave it to Logan to recite the eulogy at Peter’s funeral. No doubt, Wolvie would have nothing but positive things to say about Peter after he died. Most definitely.

Peter might be a teensy bit freaked out actually. Since he had no idea he was even capable of experiencing heat exhaustion. It almost makes him paranoid. Like a hypochondriac with a chest ache. In an attempt to force his recovery, Peter chugs through exactly thirteen bottles of dollar store water in a flash. The source of his stash? A stainless steel, mini fridge in Hank’s lab.

He knows Hank’s gonna be totally peeved when he finds the fridge raided clean. But Peter doesn’t bother worrying about that right now. Instead, he makes a mental reminder: Water bottles. An IOU. One he’ll probably forget about within the next two seconds. And never get around to fulfilling.

Professor Chucksters is talking, but Peter can’t find it in himself to listen to a single word. Whatever momentous info the ol’ baldy drops, flies a thousand miles over his feverish head. Peter cranes his neck back in overheated agony, lazily chugging Hank’s last remaining bottle of crisp, cold water. The smooth bite of that cold down Peter’s throat makes him exhale with relief through his nose.

Halfway through, he stops to shower his head in the rest. Letting chilly droplets rain down over his silver hair. Sharp tingles erupt down his neck and across his shoulders. Peter shudders, humming in delight to himself.

Oh. Shit. Wait…

Peter then comes to the regrettable realization that, in a heatwave so hazardous; water is a necessity to be shared.

No shit, blockhead.

Now, mind you, Peter isn’t known for his forethought. He’s pretty overzealous. Had he taken time to stop and think for a hot sec…yeah. Sure. Maybe he should’ve been more mindful of his suffering teammates. Oopsie daisies.

Much like a careless dog, Peter shakes off the cold drops soaking his hair. Sprinkles of water splash all around him, with Jubilee caught in the line of fire. She jumps in place with an abrupt, but silent exclamation of ‘ew!’ Shooting Peter a look of burning fury. Damp strands of Peter’s hair fan over his eyes. He runs his fingers slowly through them to give his forehead some air.

Maybe Peter’s a little delusional. Because he swears on his life he catches a red tint in Jubilee’s cheeks. She scoffs, like she can’t stand his bullshit. He throws her a wink. A beat later, she smiles and rolls her eyes.

Peter smirks. Lucky for him, his speedster charm has yet to fizzle out.

The team waits patiently for their opportune moment to flee. It’s obvious they’re all pretty antsy. Probably since they’re dying to change into something lighter. Better fitted for Satan’s city wide celebration of hellfire and brimstone. Anything but the jumpsuits, at least. But that’s just a hunch.

In Peter’s own personal opinion? The most ideal scenario would be to strut around naked, in nothing at all. Sounds awesome, right? Freedom from the suffocation of needless threads! However, societal standards and modern customs definitely wouldn’t allow such debauchery. Not to mention, Peter isn’t super keen on the idea of peeping his teammates in their birthday suits.

Except for Raven, maybe. He never gets tired of looking at those scales. All that blue. Nice.

Oh. And…you. Frankly, Peter’s willing to risk it all just to catch a glimpse of you in the buff.

He swallows a thick lump forming in his throat, sneaking a lightning fast glance in your direction. Observing you with a gawking gaze, Peter ignores the way his heartbeat kicks up to roadrunner speed. Faster than fast. Like, cartoonishly fast. It’s ridiculous.

You’re completely impervious to any heatwave debuffs. Lucky lucky. Standing there without a care in the world, you listen attentively to professor Charlie Brown’s ramblings. Since you’re so distracted, Peter lets his speedy eyes shamelessly wander. Trailing down the glittering, icy blue of your jumpsuit. Uniquely personalized to coincide with your wintry gimmick.

Which doesn’t at all explain why it’s so inappropriately skin tight.

Peter feels himself choke on his next breath. But he’s quick to blame it on the weather. Yeah. It’s just the heat that’s stifling him. Nothing else. Get real, dude.

The sparkling material of your suit hugs your figure a little too perfectly. Complementing every irresistible curve. Peter always thought you looked so ludicrously fine in that suit. If not way, way, way too distracting. Sometimes, he found it ultra hard – ignoring any euphemisms – to maintain focus during missions. Usually because your frosty ass came twinkling in his peripheral, throwing off his mojo.

But let’s chalk Peter’s lack of focus up to his chronic ADD instead, ‘kay?

Heck. Maybe it wasn’t the ADD’s fault. At least, not entirely. Like, cut the bullshit for a sec. Peter doesn’t have a lot of sexual experience. He’s never gone any further than a dozen heated sessions of heavy petting. And from time to time, though he hates to admit it; it haunts him. The way he’s so suppressed. Overflowing with pent-up desire.

Thirty years old and still a virgin? Clock’s ticking, Quickie. No wonder he can’t take his hungry eyes off your body.

Speaking of your body.

Damn, is it hot in here? Or is it just you?

It’s most definitely not you.

Your body naturally radiates a refreshing aura of frigidity. It’s no coincidence, the way your teammates linger so closely in your proximity. Peter can’t really blame them for doing so. You’re the human equivalent of an icebox. Even a touch of your finger could turn the entire X-mansion into a winter wonderland. Part of him wonders why you haven’t done so already. Since you’d be sparing everyone the infernal anguish of this awful heat wave.

Maybe you’re just as absentminded as he is.

Anyway, right about now, Peter desperately yearns to be a long lost tub of neapolitan. Stuffed deep inside your metaphorical freezer.

Which…sounds way dirtier than intended.

Fuck. Alright. Moving on.

Tugging at the collar of his jumpsuit, Peter fights to catch his breath. The fierce heat from outside has somehow seeped its way into the X-Men’s base of operations. Almost like an act of god. Or more like a punishment, maybe.

In desperate need of relief, Peter looks to you once more. He finds himself struck with an ingenious, lightbulb moment then.

A blink, and he bolts, appearing directly behind you. A faint gust of wind flutters your hair. But the breeze fails to even make you flinch. Peter isn’t the least bit subtle with his actions, as he presses his burning body a little too closely into your back. And hoooooooooooooo mama! The sweet relief of your icy presence is so worth any consequences, should they arise.

You whip your head around suddenly, giving Peter a weird look and a once over. He can’t really blame you for staring at him like that. Sure, you’re both teammates. Even family, one might argue. You’re both fighting for the same cause. But you haven’t built an inseparable bond with Peter or anything.

Honestly, he’d be totally down if you did. But that’s neither here nor there.

Peter always thought you were pretty damn cool. In more ways than one, if your glacial mutation was included in the mix. If he were more honest with himself, he would’ve acknowledged his dumb, boyish crush on you an entire ice-age ago. Oh well.

He’s still too much of an awkward spaz for his own good sometimes.

You seem…confused. Staring at Peter as if silently asking him a question. If he had to guess, it’s probably something along the lines of – what the hell do you think you’re doing, you handsome scoundrel? Peter exchanges your puzzled look with an uneasy smile. Dramatically, he fans himself with a hand. Hoping you get the hint, he pokes his tongue out to playfully express his suffocating torment.

Thankfully, you pick up what he’s putting down. As you turn back around, you giggle cutely. Peter breathes an alleviating sigh. He’s left to bask in the glory of your wintry aura. So freeing, and so, so cold. He could kiss you as a thanks, if only you’d let him. But you’ve already directed your attention to Xavier’s painfully long lecture.

Wait. Seriously, how long was this talk supposed to last? It feels like a million years at this point and-

Peter checks the Star Trek watch on his wrist. It’s only been…five minutes. Huh.

The gathering of ye olde X-council draws to a close. At long last! Xavier wraps up his spiel of heroic efforts , world peace , and wonderful work everyone. Bla bla bla. Don’t get Peter wrong. He harbors a lot of respect for the guy. Any other day, and he would’ve found those words somewhat awe inspiring. If not the slightest bit misguided.

But today? Professor, dude, now’s not the time to be preaching words of wisdom. Your nerd club’s literally cooking from the inside out. Give it a rest.

The team wastes no time. As soon as Chuck’s given the go-ahead, they’re gone. High-tailing it upstairs as fast as their tired legs can go. Which isn’t all that fast. At least, not by Peter’s standards. But he’s hella impressed with the enthusiasm.

Unlike everyone else, you move at a frustratingly slow pace. Walking behind you feels akin to waiting too long in a DMV line. Something Peter’s never had to do a single day in his life. And he’s not about to start now. It’s monotonous, and borderline infuriating. But his heightened impatience is probably just another consequence of this outrageous heat.

You take your sweet ass time – and holy moly, did you have a sweet ass – as you ascend to the first floor of the X-mansion. Peter follows after you like a lost puppy, not too far behind. On your way to – presumably – your room, you climb another, dreaded flight of stairs. And since when were stairs a hindrance to a speedster like Peter? He’s never once felt winded making a simple ascent like this. Ever.

Peter’s growing more and more restless. His skin feels sticky and uncomfortable under his jumpsuit, but he can’t rush home to grab a change of clothes. He’s unwilling to risk a race through whatever hellscape lies in waiting outside. No matter how little time it takes him. Not while his lungs are cooking to a crisp.

He aches for the touch of your icy hands. Plain and simple. Nothing to it. Nothing sexual. No strings attached.

Unless…you had a preference for strings. Peter would tie them around his wrists and move like a marionette puppet if you asked. Shit, you want a whole show? Bring out the dancing Muppets.

Midway through your ascent, Peter appears in front of you. He stops you suddenly, leaning casually with his hand against the wooden railing. His other hand rests on his hip. Lamely, he forces himself to act as naturally as he can. Which is virtually impossible, considering the circumstances. But even so, Peter throws you his signature grin and nods his head.

Be cool, dude. Be cool. Ease into it. Just try not to think about how you’re literally baking to death here.

His overheated exhaustion is impossible to miss. Even a dense chimp in a blindfold could sense something’s off about him. The quick rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a dead give away. Revealing how labored his breathing really is. Trickles of sweat race in a tense competition down Peter’s temples. Warm heat pools in his cheeks, and his skin appears ghostly pale.

That…might be the reason you gaze at him like you’re worried sick. As if you’ve seen a haunting, silverette ghost. Peter looks like he’ll pass out sometime within the next five minutes. Realistically, he should probably seek medical attention immediately. But he fakes his aloof casualness anyway.

“Heyyyyy, what’s the haps? Where’re you headed in such a rush, Screwball?” Peter asks, somewhat condescending.

“Screwball?” You narrow your eyes, puzzled, “Oh, y’know, my room probably? I might take a nap. Why?” You laugh despite your confusion, crossing your arms. Fixing Peter with a look that only suggests one thing: suspicion.

Fair enough.

He nods, rapidly tapping his fingers on the railing.

“Cool. Coooooool. I can dig it. Nothin’ wrong with that. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna spend a summer afternoon like this lazin’ around in bed, amiright?”

Good. Nice and easy. Peter should probably stop there, and speak no further. But his hazy, addled mind works on autopilot. The words race past his lips faster than he can keep up.

“It’s hot as hell today too. So, you could totally sprawl out butt ass naked and-”

Too late.

“...Yeah?” Based on your expression alone, Peter knows he’s made a total ass of himself. By some miracle, you don’t deck him with an icy fist of freezing fury. Not that you seemed the violent type to begin with.

“Wait, no-” He abruptly pauses to try and make sense of his thoughts. A stifling heat in the air swarms his head, drowning Peter in hot molasses, “Oh. Gah! What the hell am I even saying? Sorry, that was-uh…that was totally weird, right? Uh, lemme start over-uhm-”

Peter clears his throat, masking his mortification with his speedster charm. Super popular with the ladies. Tested on the battlefield of life and approved. A five star rating. No need to question why he still hasn’t managed to get laid, like ever.

“Sooooooooo…anyway. Y’wanna hang out?” He asks, cheesing a dorky grin.

“You never ask me to hang out with you. But today, of all days…that’s when you do? Everything’s closed, Peter. Y’know, because of the heat advisory? I mean, clearly…you look like you know.” You gesture to Peter himself.

A sweaty sheen coats his skin. He really should’ve taken a cold shower in the communal washrooms. At least before confronting you like this. Man, he really screwed this up. If this interaction falls flat, Peter’s just gonna bail. Maybe he’ll try and stuff himself in that mini fridge of Hank’s. He’d be way better off there. Until Beastie finds him, anyway.

“Uh, yeah? Pffft …no duh. I knew that. But, so what? Just ‘cuz there’s some lame stuff happening outside. That doesn’t mean we can’t do somethin’ totally cool inside. Know what I mean?” Simple and subtle.

“Hm…” You think on his offer for a moment. But it feels like he's aged another thirty years by the time you reply, “At least let me change first, okay? You probably should too! I know you gotta be burnin’ up in that jumpsuit, sweetheart!”

A dopey smile plays on Peter’s lips, pressing into his dimples.

So…sweetheart, eh? That’s a new one.

Politely, you push past Peter to make your way up the remaining stairs. Without any forethought or plan of action, he cuts you off again. He slides across the floor into your visual radius, worn sneakers squeaking along polished wood. Wait…why’s he losing his balance?? Peter doesn’t usually lose his balance. Shit.

Ah. he’s lightheaded now. Great.

You’re close enough that Peter can feel the tempting coldness radiating off your body. Oh, man. If only you’d envelop him in your frosty arms completely. You could even lay on top of him like a blanket of snow post avalanche. Anything. Please. Peter is so beyond desperate to beat the heat, he’d let you pelt him with a flurry of snowballs. At least then, he wouldn’t feel a spark away from igniting into flames.

Staring at him with an impatient look, you tilt your head and furrow your brows. Awkwardly, Peter shifts on his feet. Thick humidity overflows his lungs, close to bursting with the force of an atomic bomb. Breathing is near impossible at this point. Peter may as well bite the silver bullet, before he finally kicks the bucket.

Godspeed, or however the saying goes.

“Hi…sorry. Okay-uh…hear me out, please?” He begs. Peter brings his hands together in front of him like he’s praying at the altar, “This is gonna sound weird. Like, next-level weird. Yer probably gonna think I’m a huge creep. And I’m not tryna freak you out ‘er anything. ‘kay? Like, I totally get it if yer not down for this. ‘Cuz, y’know, we’re not really all that close. Plus, you probably have other stuff you’d rather be doin’ than helpin’ out some loser like me, but-” Peter rapidly stammers over his words.

Way to go, ponyboy. Graceful as ever.

Holding out a small hand to politely silence Peter, you utter his name in the sweetest tone he’s ever heard. Hushed, soft, and so gentle. Your voice is the equivalent of candy to his eardrums. He kinda really digs the way you sound when you talk. So courteous and nice all the time.

Be still, his palpitating heart. Seriously. Calm down. Or he’s literally gonna die.

“Peter?”

“Uhyeahwhat?” He stammers again.

“Are you…okay? You’re sweating like crazy. You look like you’re gonna pass out, dude.”

Peter throws you an ‘ok’ sign with a hand, his grin sluggish.

“Peachy keen, baby.”

He swears with every fiber of his sweltering soul that calling you ‘baby’ made you blush. But, y’know, since he’s a little bit doubtful, he might have to test that theory again. Just to be a hundred percent sure. Break out the ol’ chalkboard and sketch some x’s and o’s like a scientific diagram. Top of the line research. He’s the leading psychoanalyst in speedster charisma. 

“You sure about that?” You ask, arching a brow, holding an easygoing smile.

Taking a few steps closer, you bless Peter with your emanating chill. He doesn’t at all expect you to raise your hand. Peter swallows a thick, blistering lump in his throat. Frozen in place, he watches in slow motion as you bring the tips of your frosty fingers to his chest. Brisk, winter cold spreads in fractals of frost over his jumpsuit.

Freezing heaven on scorching earth. It’s sorta…poetic, in a way. Peter blinks rapidly, caught in a mind-altering daze for a beat or two. Your touch really is like a miracle cure, alleviating that stifling thickness suffocating his lungs.

“W-Wow. Okay.” He chokes awkwardly, cheeks flushing. His skin tingles under his jumpsuit, “Wow. That’s cool. Literally cool.”

“Peter?”

“Mmmmmmhmmm?” He hums, slouching his shoulders. Peter shamelessly relaxes under your wintry touch.

“You’re suffering in this heat, aren’t you? You need me to help you out?”

Stupidly, like a colossal, doofus dumbass, he shakes his head. You’re offering the exact thing Peter came to you for. A golden opportunity. He’s really hit the jackpot now. All he has to do is face the music, and admit it. Just be honest. Say it, doofus!

“Huh? Naaahhhh! Pffft …why would-...hey, I told ya! I’m juuuust peachy, Screwball! Don’t gotta worry about me!”

Hanging in the air by a delicate string, is a tension Peter’s too stunned to identify. Taking another step closer, the swell of your breasts meets his chest. The hand you’ve placed over his speedy heart trails tantalizingly slow, up to Peter’s flushed cheek. His dark eyes flutter closed, and he almost falls face first into your touch.

“I can take care of you, y'know? I really don’t mind, honey. It wouldn’t be an issue.” Your soft voice exudes genuine compassion. The sweet, gentle attention burns his skin to a boiling point, his veins melting underneath.

That unidentifiable tension in the air permeates, thicker than summertime heat. Despite the relieving cold you’ve given him to bask in; Peter finds it even more difficult to breathe. It confuses him, the way you act so nice and considerate. And now? He’s melting entirely.

Literally. No dramatizations. Peter can feel his damp skin drooping slowly off his bones.

He’s already close enough to death as is. What’s with the tenderness and affection, huh? Were you going out of your way to make sure he dies faster? Have some humanity, for Geddy’s sake. Jeez.

“I-uh…I…” Peter stutters, at a loss for words, “I wouldn’t wanna put you out like that, but…uh…”

“Alright. Whatever you say.” You steadily pull your hand from Peter’s face, “Offer’s still on the table, though!”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Why are you pulling away? No, no, no! You can’t pull away! Not yet! Come on!

All at once, the soothing cold you’ve gifted Peter disappears. No thanks to the steaming fever brought upon by his overheated, speedster body. He nearly whines at the loss, pulling his lip between his teeth to stifle any embarrassing noises.

It takes Peter only a millisecond to give in. With a slower reaction time than usual – not really all that slow, from an outside perspective – he darts his hand out in a flash. Peter lightly grabs your wrist, stopping you from retracting your hand any further.

“Wait-” Peter groans, acting hasty. Frustrated with his own awkwardness, he rolls his eyes, “...I’m…I’m literally dyin’ here, okay? Like, no joke. I think my heart might actually explode. And I…kinda can’t breathe right now? So, uhm…can you just, like, touch me? Just a little bit? But not-” He panics suddenly, eyes widening, “N-Not like-...not in a weird way, I swear!”

He almost tacks on a suggestive ‘unless you really want to,’ but decides against it. Better not, lest he dig himself into a deeper hole. So far under the Earth’s surface, he’ll come out the other side. Not a bad idea, actually. Maybe it’s cooler over there.

“And I’ll totally make it up to you. I promise. Pinky swear. Cross my heart, hope I don’t die of heat stroke.” He insists.

You giggle again, cute as can be. It’s not the least bit condescending either, thankfully. Peter feels the weight of a billion megatons finally lift off his shoulders. With a nod, you take his hand in yours. A surprisingly intimate gesture, since the two of you have never done anything quite like this before. Hell, you’ve never spent time with each other one-on-one outside of the X-Men.

“C’mon, you silly goose.” You lightheartedly joke.

Your affection catches Peter off guard. Not that he’s got a problem with it. No siree. In fact, his heart might’ve skipped a few beats. A lazy smile plays at his lips, as you guide Peter down the hall to your room in your usual, slow stride.

Oh, sweet, frosty sanctuary calls.

As soon as Peter steps inside, you quickly close the door behind you. Feeling somewhat out of place in the unfamiliarity of your space, Peter distracts himself with the posters on your walls. He casts quick glances over the silly knick-knacks occupying your desk and dressers. Turns out, your room has a lot of personality. Neat.

He overhears a faint click suddenly. Whipping around to find you locking the door, Peter narrows his eyes in thought.

Huh.

Maybe he’s overthinking. Probably. But doesn’t locking the door like that suggest some…implications? Then again, Peter could be looking at this in all the wrong ways. Like, okay, if he were being realistic? More than likely, you didn’t wanna risk someone walking in. Not while you got handsy with one of your teammates in your room. Totally reasonable, he thinks.

But then-

Leaning your back against the door, you steadily unzip your glittering suit. Pulling the tiny, snowflake zipper down just enough to expose the swell of – Oh, hellllloooooooooo snowy cleavage. Where in the world have you been all his life? Peter has to refrain from whistling.

Okay. You totally did that on purpose, didn’t you? That was completely intentional. And Peter’s definitely not reading too far into things. He’s most unequivocally not letting his attraction to you affect his perception of a simple gesture. Not at all.

He can’t control his lingering gaze. Peter’s droopy eyes follow the slow movement of your hand, his mouth falling agape in a heat-exhausted stupor. Somewhere around him, he can barely make out your voice. But it’s muffled. All noise. Akin to a teacher from a Peanuts cartoon. Bwah Bwah Bwah Bwah.

Peter blinks.

“Huh? Sorry…you say somethin’?” It’s a failed attempt at a recovery. Peter taps his temple, “Gotta couple screws loose in here right now. Y’know, heat’s kinda gettin’ to me.”

You arch a brow, gazing at Peter like you see right through his bullshit. And yeah, he’s gonna go ahead and bet you probably do.

“Uh huh?” You scoff, giggling, “I asked if you’d be more comfortable on the bed, doofus.”

Moving closer to your bed, you bend over to adjust the fuckload of plushies resting on the blankets. Wow. Check that out. It’s like a Toys R Us threw up. A colorful mess of too many plushies for Peter to count. There’s barely any space to lie down, even if he wanted to.

Doing a quick double take, he glances between you, and your occupied bed. Peter sways where he stands, light headed from heat exhaustion. His brows shoot up in unexpected surprise. He whistles through a suggestive grin.

“Waiiiit, seriously?” Peter huffs a charming laugh, “Wow. Didn’t peg you for the direct type, Screwball. Y’wanna take me out to dinner and a movie first?”

“Dinner and a movie? I dunno, Peter. You’re askin’ for a lot.” You giggle again, acting nonchalant. You make your way around the room to a record player on a corner shelf. Neatly organized vinyls are aligned meticulously next to it. As you poke through your collection, you continue, “But sure. Fuck it, right? Why not! What movie?”

Distracted, as he usually is, Peter glances curiously around your room. Framed photos, postcards, and letters adorn your walls. Pinned carefully in place. Some of the photos, he suspects, are of your family. Others, more than likely friends. There’s even a few group photos of the X-Men together, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah?

Wait. Shit. You’re talking again. And Peter totally missed whatever you said.

“Huh?” Peter darts his head in your direction, watching with half lidded eyes as you set up the record player.

“Dude.” You roll your eyes affectionately, chuckling, “I said, is it hot in here, by the way? Just wondering. Since I can’t really tell.”

“Oh-” Peter exaggerates a sigh, “It’s really bad, babe. Like, sooo bad. I’m definitely gonna die if you don’t come over here and put those icebox hands on me, like, right now. Seriously.” He snickers, falling limply backwards into your bed.

Several plushies bounce with the impact of his weight. Some tumble onto the floor. Others topple onto Peter himself, but he leaves them be. He clutches a Beatles Blue Meanie plush to his chest. Breathing in quick, muggy breaths. Peter finds he’s even more consumed by the record-breaking heat. It’s a miracle he hasn’t disintegrated into a pile of ash by now.

“Howard the Duck.” Peter adds, staring at the ceiling in cloudy thought. He twirls the Blue Meanie in his hands.

“Pffft…what?” You laugh, “What are you even-”

“That’s the movie I wanna see. When you take me out? I wanna watch Howard the Duck. Oh! And I want popcorn too. Can’t watch a movie without popcorn. But it’s gotta be one of the big ones. With extra butter. And some candy-”

“ When I take you out. C’mon, really? Dude, didn’t critics totally pan that movie? I swear, I saw that in the paper just recently! It’s such an awful movie, Peter!”

“Uh, yeah? And so what? That’s kinda what makes it the ultimate date move, babe. Check it out – we could have the most awesome time makin’ fun of it.” Peter throws his head back further into your bed, peering at you from upside down, “Ooooh! Did you hear about the duck boobs scene? No joke. I kid you not. It’s got duck titties.”

A mellow tune slowly encompasses the quiet, muggy space of your room. Peter instantly recognizes it from the first few beats alone. Obscured by Clouds. Pink Floyd. …Cool. Peter’s pretty fond of that album himself. It’s not necessarily his favorite, per se. But it’s awesome enough. And it’s perfectly fitting for the mood of sweltering, summertime vibes too, he thinks.

“I didn’t until now.” You sarcastically scoff. Meandering towards Peter on your bed, “Spoilers, dude.”

He brings his head up to look at you. Spreading himself out, Peter knocks more of your poor plushies to the floor. Carelessly, he drops the Blue Meanie plush. Letting him fall to his ultimate demise. Au revoir, his blueness.

“Right. My bad.” He snickers. After a beat, Peter adds, “I love this album, by the way. It’s a nice vibe.”

In your eyes, he must look a lot like a beached starfish. Sprawled out and helpless. Drying to death in the heat of the summertime sun. Peter has his long legs hanging loosely off the edge of your bed. Moving in between those spread legs, you carefully climb onto the bed. Your knee stops just short of his crotch. As you inch yourself further over his body, Peter’s eyes widen. He blinks slowly, feeling hot beads of sweat roll down his temples.

“I know you do.” You grin down at him with a warm gaze. Peter’s lungs threaten to shrink into nothingness.

“Y-You do? Huh…no shit?” He appears put off, raising a silver brow, “How’d you know?”

You shrug, keeping your grin, “Guess I pay more attention to you than you think, hmm?” Perched over Peter with a palm to the sheets, you brush the silver bangs out of his eyes, “You got any limits?”

Peter blinks again, dumbfounded.

“Lim-...uh, what now?”

“Limits, y’know. Like, where am I free to touch? Anything you’re not comfortable with?”

“Oh. Uh…you can…touch me anywhere? It’s whatever yer comfortable with. Yer the one doin’ me a favor here.” he gazes at you with an unsure, sleepy eyed look. Nervously nibbling his lip, tasting the salt of his sweat, “Do you-uh…do you do this kinda thing a lot? Fer…other people?”

“Nope.” You blink down at him with that genuine, sweet smile again. Shrugging, “Just you.”

A subtle aura of addictive cold radiates from your body like a light. Peter can feel the faintest hint of it as you move in close. It teases him, promising sweet relief from the merciless summer heat. With his lips parted, Peter stares longingly into your eyes. His smile reveals a glimpse of his front teeth, as he snickers in disbelief.

“Uh huh. Alright. See, now I know fer sure yer just messin’ with me.” He bashfully laughs.

“Not yet I’m not.” You throw him a coy wink. Innocently, you ask, “Where do you want me?”

Which could so easily be misconstrued. Dammit.

Yeah. So, this one’s definitely on him. Peter’s inexperienced, sexually charged instincts immediately jump somewhere totally depraved. He’s a little ashamed of that fact. But hey, who’s the one climbing over him on their bed? Who’s the one fluttering those pretty lashes? Giving him those flirtatious smiles. Come on. Really? No wonder he’s lost his mind in the gutter.

Where do you want me?

Peter’s dark eyes immediately dart to his crotch for less than a second. But it happens so fast, he doesn’t doubt you missed it.

“Uhhhhh…I dunno. I didn’t…I didn’t really think about it? But, you cou- HHHHHHhnnnnnnnaaaaaaa-”

Frigid cold invades the exposed skin of Peter’s neck, as you press your hand gently there. A tiny thumb brushes his adam’s apple. Shivering, Peter bunches his shoulders. Tingling chills surge across his body.

“That’s good. That’s g-great. Awesome. Totally awesome. Thanks. Thank you.” He chokes in a rush, instantly melting into your icy touch.

Relaxing his body in your bed, Peter’s head falls loosely back. He breathes a long sigh of relief, his mouth falling open in a dopey smile. His eyes flutter closed as he laughs. Steadily then, your hand travels lower. Grazing frosty fingertips over his chest. Your fingers soon find the zipper of his jumpsuit, and you tug it down a little further.

That heavy tension from earlier grows a thousand times more distracting. For whatever reason, the mellow melody of Pink Floyd’s ‘When You’re In’ only seems to heighten said tension. Almost like it’s setting a certain kinda…steamy mood. 

Did Peter wake up in some cheesy, VHS porno? He’s definitely living the plot of one.

Peter flutters his eyes open, met with the sight of you on your knees over him. Your gaze appearing heavy, focused intently on your task. You nibble your lip in thought, looking fine as hell while doing so. Pressing your small palm to his chest, you finally grace him with glorious cold again. Right over the sweaty abomination for a shirt he wore under his jumpsuit. He’s almost embarrassed that you’re even touching it.

Using your glacial gift, you manifest more coolness. Allowing it to spread all over Peter’s body. He sucks in a harsh breath, freeing his lungs from their heated asphyxiation.

There it is. Sweet, icy sanctuary, at long last.

“Ohhhhhhhh …” Peter groans, “Nice.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his veins straining under his skin. Digging your nails firmly into his chest, you manifest snowy trails of glittering frost. The biting cold nips at his skin over the fabric of his shirt. Like walking chest first into an arctic glacier.

“Is this helping you much at all?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

“You have nooooooooo idea, babe.” Peter breathes a grateful sigh, “This is, like, so amazing. Thanks. I owe ya one.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”

Your freezing hand meets Peter’s sweaty forehead, pressing into his skin. Like you’re checking his temperature with the gentleness of a mother’s touch. Humming to the music, you card your cold fingers through his damp locks. Firmly massaging Peter’s scalp.

Peter lets his eyes drift shut again. His mouth falling open out of his control. Leaving his hair, you bring your attention back to his body. Watching him carefully for any sign to stop, you tug the wet, frost nipped fabric of his shirt. Bunching it up over his neck, exposing his broad chest.

He shoots an eye open, fixing you with a curious look. Feeling hot skin under your soft palms, you slide your hands over his raised pecs. Your fingers gliding in a touch as delicate as powdered snow. It sends sharp chills down his spine. A sensation he’s quickly finding extremely addictive and all too pleasant.

Instantaneously, something clicks in Peter’s brain.

A beat, and your touch goes from relieving, to downright pleasurable. Even sort of…arousing. Peter immediately reacts, arching his back in an abrupt jolt. He laughs his surprise through a broken moan, tossing his head back for the umpteenth time.

“O-Oh, fuck.” He chokes, loud enough to disturb whoever occupies the room next door.

Peter’s so righteously fucked now. Because he really shouldn’t be as turned on by this as he is. It’s just…he’s so boiling hot. Miserable as hell. And not only are you finally breaking him free of hellfire’s tyranny. But you’re also touching him sorta intimately. Peter’s really not immune to attention like this. Especially not from a stone fox he’s super attracted to.

His nipples harden under your frigid spell, perky against the tips of your fingers. Peter hisses, whimpering another moan without meaning to. Your only response is to giggle. Curiously, you tilt your head. Quickly taking notice of the way Peter’s noises have changed in pitch.

They’re more like moans of ecstasy now. Because, well, they sorta are. Whoops.

Lowering your hips, you suddenly move to rest on Peter’s lap. Just to give your knees some much needed rest. His hammering heart threatens to burst straight through his ribcage. Rising from the bed onto his elbows, Peter tries to protest.

“Wait! Wait, don’t sit- hoooohhhh.” A throaty groan slips off his tongue.

The full weight of your lower half drops onto his lap. Right over the stiff hard-on in his jumpsuit, doing little to hide itself. Your ass is so outrageously cold against his crotch and… oh, fuck. That’s so perfect. Peter groans again through a shuddering breath. Limply, he lowers himself onto his back. Hoping to conceal his shame, he brings his hands to his face.

Except, there’s no denying his obvious desire anymore.

“Auuuuugh.” Peter curses himself, “Shit. I am seriously so, so sorry-” Your name plays on his tongue in a desperate, apologetic tone, “I-I really…I dunno why I’m so-uh…I’m not usually-”

“Hey, don’t worry! It’s okay. Believe me, I don’t mind…”

Gosh. There you go again, doing that thing. The thing where you act so unexpectedly understanding in the face of an awkward situation. But even then, Peter can hear your smooth voice waver. Despite all you try to hide, he can tell. You’re just as nervous as he is, but ultimately better at masking it.

He doesn’t see it, but you gaze down at him rather suggestively. A fresh, newfound sense of lust lingers in your eyes. Raking your nails teasingly down his chest, you draw numbing streaks of snow, making him wince. The frost manifests seamlessly from your fingers, tickling Peter’s ever burning skin. It melts instantly, leaving beaded droplets.

“Does it really feel good when I touch you like this, pretty boy?” You tease, that waver in your voice barely leaking through again.

Wooooah. Okay. Okay. Hold up. Rewind. What?

Peter isn’t hearing you wrong this time. He couldn’t be. It’s impossible to misread the dirty tease in your tone. In the blink of an eye – rapid fire speed – the blood pooling in his cheeks vacates straight to his dick. Peter’s cock twitches, pulsating under his jumpsuit – under you – and shamefully unveiling just how horny he really is.

The high-speed boom boom boom of Peter’s heart skids to a deafening halt. His exhausted lungs finally collapse. Squeezing out his final remnants of life. If someone were to hook him up to an EKG, he surely would’ve flat-lined. Sayonara, suckers. This foolhardy speedster’s at the end of his road.

But…what’s this?! Peter’s still alive and breathing? Who could’ve predicted such a phenomenon??

He lowers his hands from his flushed face, peering over the tips of his fingers. His black coffee eyes blown exceptionally wide.

“Woah. Hold on now. What?” Peter snorts. He shakes himself free of total shock, frantically nodding, “Uh, yeah? It feels…really fuckin’ awesome, to tell you the truth.”

“Mhm?” You hum a sensual vibration, biting your lip, “Mind if I try something bold then?”

Peter arches a curious brow. You’re kind of a little minx, aren’t you?

“Literally? You can do whatever you want with me, babe. I’m all yours.” He heaves an exasperated laugh.

A smirk dawns your pretty lips, and you shimmy backwards over Peter’s lap. Until the bulging swell of his hardness lies before you, squirming under his jumpsuit. Teasing him, you drag your biting touch down to his crotch. Euphoric cold dances across his pelvis. You stop short of his hard-on, and Peter draws in a ragged breath.

“Awww…feelin’ a little stiff, sweetheart?” You coo in a sultry sound. Peter feels his blood pressure drop to a life-threatening degree, “Let me help you out.”

Testing the metaphorical, frozen waters; you bring your frigid palm over his bulge. You watch Peter for any sign to retract your hand, fixing him with an intense look. But to your surprise, his cock doesn’t soften under your frosty touch. Not like one would expect. Oh, no. The opposite happens, in fact.

“Mmmmhh…oh my god.” He moans, his front teeth clamping hard into his lip. Jolting in response to his own sensitivity, he rolls his hips into your small hand, “Please…”

You squeeze the thick length of him as well as you can over his jumpsuit, applying more pressure. Awkwardly stroking his dick with your wintry tipped fingers. The bleak touch you cast sends chills racing through Peter’s veins, and sharp pleasure rises in his groin.

“F-Fer the record, by the way, this is not how I expected this to go.” Peter shivers, breathlessly chuckling.

“Oh, no?” You mutter, climbing over Peter on your knees. Glacial breath ghosts his lips. You lean in close, giving his cock another firm squeeze, “Hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Fuuuuuuck no, baby. Not a chance.” Peter groans his reply, lifting his hips. Yearning for more of your gratifying chill. Another wintry wave of cold seizes through his groin, and Peter’s eyes roll back, “Holy shit. That’s it.”

Peter finds himself a little conflicted. His brown hues can’t decide if they wanna gaze into your own, or stare longingly at your lips. In the past, Peter thought about those same lips more often than he’d admit. But to be so up close and personal with them like this…

“I’m not even gonna lie to you, Screwball. I really wanna kiss you right now.” Peter admits defeat. Even in your polar proximity, humiliation burns his cheeks with the force of hellfire.

Knitting your brows, you narrow your eyes. And for a painfully long instant, Peter thinks he’s finally fucked up. As if confessing his desire to kiss you was somehow a step too far over the line.

Is there even a line left between the two of you anymore? Or did you both trip over it the moment you gave him ‘fuck me’ eyes?

You lean in a touch closer, quietly chuckling. Cold puffs of air fan over his lips, a needle-thin space away.

“You’re so silly, y’know that? Why do you keep callin’ me Screwball?” You ask, placing a tantalizing kiss to the corner of his lips. Like the touch of a delicate snowflake, “You make it sound like you think I’m crazy.”

“Well, okay, first of all, you gotta be some kinda crazy. ‘Specially if yer screwin’ around with me.” Peter jokes. He’s beyond winded under the teasing brush of your soft lips, “S-Second of all, it’s an ice cream thing. You ever-uhm…stop by an ice cream truck before?”

Why’s he even doing this? Making casual conversation like it’s a date at the diner. Peter half expects you to pull away. Since this is the least sexiest thing he could be doing. Amazingly, you remain where you are. Trailing kisses across Peter’s cheek, down to his ear. Leaving feather-light sparkles of frost in your wake. Still, they melt within seconds.

“Yeah. Of course I have. So?” You mumble.

He tenses as goosebumps descend down his neck. The tight grip you have on his dick doesn’t let up. Any words Peter planned on saying seem completely lost on him now.

“Uhhhh…Screwball’s the little…it’s got the-uh…gumballs at the bottom. It’s, like, a cone-”

Righteous work, casanova.

“Right. And I’m Screwball because…?”

Damn you, little minx! You know why. The answer’s totally obvious. There’s no way you’re that dense. Nah. You’re just so set on teasing Peter, tempting him to nervously ramble. Like you find his embarrassment…humorous or whatever. Pfffbbtt …

“You messin’ with me? It’s ‘cuz it’s ice cream, yeah? No duh. And ice is, like, yer thing, babe. I dunno. It made more sense in my head.” Peter laughs in spite of himself, “Listen…can I please kiss you? Before I make even more of an ass outta myself?”

In this position, Peter can’t kiss you. Even though it’s all he can think about. You’re too busy mouthing at his neck, grazing his skin with your teeth. Fondling his cock in freezing strokes, making him whine under his breath.

Up until this very moment, Peter’s hands remained mostly still. He’d dig his fingernails into your blankets, as the pleasure of freezer burn simmered in his pelvis. But he held himself back from ever really touching you. Since this little interaction wasn’t supposed to end up like this to begin with.

But now? Well…shit.

You knead at his junk like you’re making biscuits, flicking your icy tongue across the skin of his neck. Eliciting another husky whine from deep in his throat. Peter’s pretty sure, judging by your forwardness; you wouldn’t mind so much if he touched you just a little, right? Like, you totally wouldn’t protest if he brought his large hand to the back of your head, would you?

He threads his fingers through your soft hair, tugging your head back gently. Pulling you from his neck, just so he can meet your wanton eyes again. There’s a single second of hesitation, as both of Peter’s hands claim your cheeks. That second seems to stretch for what feels like an hour, while Peter memorizes the features of your face. His racing, speedster heart leaps at the sight.

He swiftly pulls you down for a kiss. It’s clumsy as all get out. Initially, anyway. But if there’s one thing he can actually pride himself on? At the very least, he’s had a lot of experience with canoodling. Kissing you comes as naturally to Peter as running does. His skillful lips and tongue guide yours effortlessly. Coercing you into a heated makeout session. Against his own, your lips are frosty cold. Like drinking crisp water straight from a chilled glass.

Or…it’s more like he’s lapping his tongue across some kind of…slushy ice cream. Like…a Screwball cone, maybe?

No?

Fuck it. Whatever. The only difference is, you don’t taste anything like cherry. You taste like you. And Peter would argue that’s almost better. Almost. Cherry’s pretty hard to beat. It’s a tough competition.

As you fall victim to his bitchin’ makeout skills, Peter indulges himself. He touches you the way he’s dreamed since forever and a day. His hands glide thick fingers down your chilly body. Feeling every glittering facet of your suit under his fingertips. Meeting the curves of your hips, he squeezes them firmly.

“Mmmmm…this is awesome.” Peter breathes, “This is really fuckin’ awesome.” He hums into your lips, stifling a moan by kissing you again. You stroke his clothed cock a little faster, and he chokes, “O-Oh…yer so awesome. Fuck.”

“You’re really awesome yourself. But I’ve always thought that about you.” You titter, nuzzling his nose so tenderly, “The others on the team? Yeah. They’re alright. But you? Peter, you’re the coolest.” You admit with a bashful smile. After locking him in one more, passionate smooch, you pull away, “Sexy too.”

“W-Wait, really? Are you bein’ serious right now?” Peter asks, stupefied. He furrows his brows. Another beat, and he forces himself to smirk proudly, “I-I mean…well, yeah. Pssshh …of course. Why wouldn’t you think that? I’m the bomb, baby.”

Peter keeps his hands on your hips, feeling your ravishing curves. Stroking them with his thumbs. They fit so perfectly in his grasp. And Goddamn, Peter doesn’t ever wanna let go. Mark his words. Right here, right now. He’ll glue his hands to you forever if he has to.

Lowering your ass over his crotch, you keep your erotic gaze focused on his. Your intense eye contact never seems to break for even a moment. Pressing into the exposed, damp skin of his chest, you brace your freezing hands over Peter’s pecs. A filthy moan teases your lips, as you roll your gorgeous hips forward and back. Grinding into his needy bulge.

Oh.

This is happening now. Fuck yeah.

Peter squirms in place, tightening his hold on your hips. His nails tear at the tiny sequins of your jumpsuit, digging into the sparkling material. It’s such a needlessly skin tight thing, for fuck’s sake. Criminally skin tight, even. How did Xavier ever greenlight that? Peter can see the tempting outline of your pussy in it, deliciously rolling into his clothed cock. His mouth waters at the sight. Lifting his hips off the bed, he meets your slow thrusts.

“Ohhhhh. Oh, what the fuck-” He moans an octave louder.

A strangled sound catches in his throat, and you’re quick to shush him the moment it frees itself.

“Pietro, honey, you gotta be quiet, okay?”

Hushed moans pour from your parted lips as you speak his given name. Peter’s completely bushwhacked at the mention of it. Since no one ever – excluding his mom, in her more frustrated moods – uses that name. A tickling flutter erupts with a burst in his belly. He almost creams himself at the sound of that name in your voice.

“Come on. Be good for me. You can be good for me. Can’t you, baby?” You plead. Moving your hips in a painfully slow, steady rhythm.

“Fuuuuuuuck. Babe, please-” Peter begs, “Faster? Faster, please. Yer killin’ me."

Your sharp nails sink into his bare chest, manifesting more glassy shards of frost. Winter cold seizes Peter’s body entirely, infecting him with frostbite’s kiss. Peter knits his brows tightly, his dark eyes mesmerized with your every movement. The freezing solace permeating from your pussy proves a little too overwhelming. As sharp, pinpricks of cold rush through his veins; it all morphs into carnal heat.

His muscles quickly tighten, every inch of him tensing in an instant.

“Wait wait wait! Fuck!” Peter whimpers in desperation, a flurry of moans erupting from his throat. His rock hard cock twitches, pulsating under you as he cums. Leaking thick streams of his seed into his boxers and jumpsuit, “F-Fuck! I’m sorry, baby! Ohhhhh god! I’m so sorry.”

As far as Peter knows, you have no clue he’s a virgin. Until now, he was content with that. He hadn’t planned on announcing it anytime soon. In hindsight, it’s pretty fucking embarrassing how easily he comes undone. All from a little dry humping, no less.

Yeah. You’re bound to figure it out sooner or later. Yikes.

Sticky, white pearls of his cum seep through his jumpsuit, staining the material. Your erotic motions slow to a stop, once you notice the streaks sticking to your clothed cunt. Tilting your head, you raise a brow. A delicate blush swarms your neck and ears, as you stare down at Peter with genuine surprise. He tilts his head back shamefully, sighing.

“D-Did you just-” You hesitate to continue. Wintry fingertips trace over his bare chest, “Damn, Quickie, that was fast.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Peter sighs again, bringing his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, “Dammit.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, feeling blistering warmth rapidly return. Taunting him with the promise of death by suffocation all over again. Before he finally succumbs to it, you crawl over him. Knees braced on either side of his body.

“I’m…god, I’m really fuckin’ sorry about that.” Peter awkwardly stammers, “I-I just…fuck! Yer just so-”

You shush him, chuckling, “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. That was so, sooooooo hot. Really hot, if I’m being honest.”

By virtue of his blessed genes, Peter takes very little time to recover. And hell, you make it an impossible feat not to chub up all over again. Your arctic tongue intertwines with his hotter one, as you meet him in another sloppy kiss. Cold hands grasp his cheeks, quickly sliding through his hair. Dragging your nails across Peter’s scalp, you kiss him with more urgency.

Peter sneaks his hands to your juicy ass, warm palms feeling at your plush booty cheeks. He gives one of them a light, playful smack. Drawing out a squeak from you, Peter giggles into your mouthy kisses. He’s distracted enough, he almost doesn’t notice you tugging the zipper of his jumpsuit.

“C’mon, get this thing off already.” You pull the zipper down even further, murmuring through frantic kisses, “Before you die of heat stroke in my bed.”

With a hmph , Peter nods his head, “Hey, if it’s life ‘er death? Guess I’ve got no choice then, huh?” He replies, fabricating his confidence, “Just a sec.”

Peter sits up fully on your bed, his feet absentmindedly kicking a few plushies on the floor. You slide off the bed entirely. Stepping back to give Peter the space he needs. From your perspective, the removal of his sweaty jumpsuit takes less than a second. But from Peter’s own POV, it’s a thousand years before he finally pulls himself out of his clothes. Clumsily, he peels his sticky limbs free.

“Fuckin’ shit-” He curses, struggling to free one of his ankles once he’s done.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but a faint air of raw cold filters through the space of your room. With his body free of stifling clothing; Peter can finally embrace that coolness in full. It bites sharply at his skin, making him shudder. Peter inhales a slow, deep breath just to feel it all

“Oh, wow! It feels damn good in here, Screwball! Like, woahhh! I feel like I’ve been sweatin’ my balls off this whole time until now.” He says.

“That’s the most charming thing you’ve said all day.” You sarcastically chime. And he snorts.

Peter promptly rids himself of his sweat soaked shirt, aching to feel more frigid air on his skin. He tosses the drenched fabric to the floor. Left in his cum stained boxers, Peter shifts uncomfortably on your bed. Self consciously, he gazes at you with a doe eyed look. He twiddles his thumbs in his lap.

“Sooooooo…uh…a-are you gonna take off yer-uhm…” Peter gives you a once over, gesturing to your jumpsuit.

He lets his long, sturdy legs hang off the side of your bed. Watching as you take slow steps backwards, pulling that tiny, snowflake zipper of yours. Dragging it all the way down. A mischievous spark twinkles in your eye, and Peter’s heart skips a thousand beats. Even though you’re trying your best to be sexy, you’re still just as clumsy as he was.

Which somehow, ultimately makes you even sexier to him.

You peel your limbs out of your glittering jumpsuit. Revealing the underwear beneath, fitting your body in all the right ways. Peter’s adam’s apple bobs, his eyes flitting up and down your curvaceous form. Drinking in the image of you almost completely bare.

“Holy shit.” Peter mumbles, leaning back and bracing his hands on your bed.

You’re giggling again. Blessing his ears with a precious sound he’s grown to adore over the last…however long it’s been since you invited him in. Peter can’t really remember. It’s impossible to hold any sense of rational thought while watching you like this. Especially when you pull off everything except your little, lace panties. Freeing your-

Whoaaaaaaa, mama.

There they are. In all their beautiful, freezing glory. Your icy cold knockers bounce freely. And with a flawlessly executed jiggle, too. If Peter had a sign, he'd rate them a perfect ten.

The skin of your breasts is heavenly soft, dusted in a faint motif of frosty snowflakes. Nipples perky.

Peter's wondered about those suckers for ages. And you most definitely don't disappoint. He whistles, his eyes flying open. Black pupils dilating like drops of heavy ink. No matter how hard he tries, he can't tear his gaze away from those bouncy beauties.

"Damn, Screwball…" Peter grins, shaking his head, "Yer a smokeshow, babe."

Subconsciously, he palms his hardening dick over his boxer briefs. Momentarily grimacing at the texture of drying cum in the fabric. His focused gaze lingers a little too long on your totally righteous titties. You're talking again. Speaking words in that sweet voice, though they go unheard.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah!

You must have given up on trying. He barely sees you coming, as you collide your lips with his again. Shocking him out of his boob-induced daze. The moment you're in close enough range, he reaches out to touch you. Burning hot palms fondle your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples. Furrowing your brows, you squeal into his mouth.

"Your hands-" You whine, "Your hands are so hot. It's like you're on fire." And Peter chuckles a heated breath in response.

"See? And that's why we're here. Gotta beat the heat somehow, eh?" He says, his hands playing with your frosty titties. Silken and cold on his skin.

Sinking to the floor, you lower yourself onto your knees. Peter knows without an ounce of doubt; your poor knees have to be aching like hell right about now. Yet, you persist. He scoots a little further at the edge of your bed, allowing you to ease yourself between his spread legs. With one less layer of clothing in the way of your touch, the coolness feels even more crisp and harsh over his cock.

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles.

Peter stares down at you in awe, curling his fingers into the sheets. Biting your lip with an impish grin, you ease his boxers off completely. As your glimmering eyes meet the full length of his cock, you're instantly enamored. His dick, colored a scarlet hue and pulsing with thick veins, bounces over a silver bush of hair.

You haven't even touched him directly yet. But Peter can already feel that freezing aura easing in close. Swiping your tongue across your plush lips, you gaze at Peter's dick like your hunger hasn't been satiated in weeks.

No words are spoken between you both. As one of your hands treads carefully. Barely touching his thickness with your fingers. You stroke him in slow, but firm motions at first. Peter arches his back in shock, the cold like electricity rushing through his veins. Arctic temperatures rapidly pump his body full of adrenaline.

Maybe that’s why he’s so into this. Being a speedster, he’s always been addicted to the rush of exhilaration.

“Ohhh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Peter moans.

Your strokes slide up to the swollen, purple-ish head of his cock. Squeezing tightly. But the tip is too outrageously sensitive. A simple, icy cold tug of it gets Peter practically seizing. White light flashes through his vision. And just like that, he’s going totally mental. He jumps with an abrupt jerk, his body vibrating.

Peter whimpers in quick gasps, “Ah! N-Not the tip, baby! Not the tip!”

You make a quick retreat, sliding your hand down to the thick base of his length. Pumping his vascular cock in a frosty fist. He can feel his blood vessels constricting with every motion. Cold creeps under his skin, bringing with it a burning sensation. Peter’s groin tightens, and his moans turn to pleading whimpers.

With a cheshire grin, you flutter your lashes over a naughty gaze. Leaning forward, you tease the smooth length of his cock with your lips. Kitten licking a vein with the tip of your tongue.

“W-Wait! Hold on, Screwball! Fuck-” One of Peter’s hands finds your head, clutching strands of your hair between his fingers, “It’s too much, baby! I can’t-”

A long, chilling swipe of your tongue brings momentary crystals of ice. Igniting the burn along his skin. Peter never thought himself a masochist. But this freaky, frosty jerk-off session has somehow completely rewired his brain chemistry. Pain never felt so good.

In all your wickedness, little minx, you refuse to heed Peter’s warning. Your mouth engulfs the scorching heat of his cock. Surrounding him in a crisp, cold shroud. Bringing upon him a vengeance of the bleakest kind. Like a frostbitten hug, sending shockwaves of pleasure fluttering through his bones. Peter’s breathing quickens.

“Ah! FUCK! Gonna fuckin-...I’m fuckin’ cumming, baby! Sorry, sorry, sorr-” He falters over broken whines.

Acting on impulse like the total spaz he is, Peter panics. Tugging your head from his cock so he doesn’t bust a load in your mouth. He lags a few seconds behind. Late again, as per usual.

Peter accidentally showers your precious lips in his cum. Painting your face in hot, messy strands of it. He writhes in place, sluggishly rocking his hips forward. The spurting tip of his dick kisses your lips, the length bouncing with every eruption of thick, sticky heat.

For a second time in a row, he’s blown his load prematurely. Impressive, in a really lame way. But, hey, even if Peter feels a little bad for glossing you in his cum. He’s gotta admit, you look drop dead gorgeous like this.

Peter quickly snaps out of his post-nut daze, his eyes dancing across your decorated face.

Ah. Actually, now that he’s thinking somewhat clearly again…it’s a little gross. He fumbles over an onslaught of apologies. Reaching to the floor for his discarded shirt without thinking, he wipes your face clean of his nut.

Wait. Fuck. Why’d he use his shirt? Shit. Get it together, Quickie!

As always, you’re just as chill about this as you have been everything else, “That wasn’t so bad. But thanks. Sorry about your shirt, though.” You giggle. But all Peter does is shamefully laugh in response.

You’re perceptive enough to catch onto his sudden hesitance. He tenses, avoiding your pretty eyes. Bouncing a nervous leg at the speed of a rabbit’s kicks. Twice now, you’ve seen him finish way too early. And though he knows in his heart you wouldn’t judge him for his lack of experience; a small part of him fears the worst.

He really likes you, actually. It’d hurt like hell if you thought less of him over something so trivial.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” You ask. Playful, but still concerned.

Peter’s heart aches in the presence of your gentle nature. Swallowing his pride, he opts to confess. And if you think him pathetic for being a thirty year old virgin? Fuck it. He’s betting Hank’s mini fridge is still vacant.

You’re resting on your knees in between his legs, tracing feather-light, frosty patterns into his thigh. Peter’s skin swiftly erupts in goosebumps again, his body never accustomed to your arctic touch. Taking a deep breath, he drops his head forward.

“I…gotta be honest with ya about somethin’. I’ts-...” Peter cuts himself off with a sigh, burying his face in his hands, “I’m kind of…a virgin. Y’know, if you couldn’t already tell. I just…didn’t wanna say anything.”

“Pfffttt …” You puff in disbelief, like you’re assuming he’s messing with you. But Peter blinks, staring down into your eyes with a look that tells you he’s all business, “You’re serious? But, Peter, no offense? I’m really surprised! You always seemed like such a player. Like, you flirt with literally everyone.”

Peter stares at you in silence. He shakes his head, brows furrowed. A timid grin curling into his lips.

“I guess? I talk a big game, yeah. And I’ve made out with a lotta girls. Screwed around a few times. But…nah. I’ve never-uh…actually, really screwed. I dunno if the timing was never right or what, but…” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Despite fighting an internal war of crippling shame.

“Well, we’ll just have to remedy this then, won’t we?” Your hand rises to his chin, thumb tenderly stroking rough, silver stubble.

His eyes fly open, cheeks swarming a bright red. A beat, and Peter’s dick already twitches to life again at the prospect of your offer. However, despite his body’s insatiable desire, he waves his hands and shakes his head.

“N-No! No, babe! Listen, you don’t have to. I really wasn’t implyin’ anything when I said…uh…it’s just…I-I’ve never told anyone. That's all!”

“It’s fine! I said I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

He swallows, caught off guard by your choice of words. ‘Take care of you.’ His brows raise high, and the cartoonishly fast pounding of his heart returns. Fluttering in his chest, hiking up to sonic speed. Peter opens his mouth to protest, to remind you that you shouldn’t feel pressured into stealing his v-card.

But you’re already pushing yourself off the floor, climbing over Peter on your bed. With your icy hand to his chest, you guide him down onto his back. He gazes up at you with an uncertain, but lustful look in his dark eyes. In spite of the significantly cooler temperature of your room; Peter’s entire body breaks out in a humid sweat.

Okay. Calm down, man. Take a chill pill. Relax.

“You got any condoms?” You ask, blunt and up front.

So. This is really happening, huh? Yeah. Peter’s gonna lose his v-card to one of his teammates. No biggie. Screwing his fellow X-Man Screwball? Totally not a big deal.

Peter swallows dryly again, an awkward chuckle vibrating over his tongue.

“Not on me, no. I don’t really-uhhh…carry those around.” He makes a hasty move to sit up, “But I can run to the store really quick and grab some. Y’wanna snack ‘er a drink while I’m at it? I could really go fer somethin’ sweet like-”

Your frosty lips capture his in yet another, intimate kiss. For the sake of Peter’s inexperience, you take your time. Guiding Peter down onto his back once more. Working with tender consideration. When your tongue so lovingly swirls with his, he scowls. Tasting the lingering bitterness of his nut. He curls his lip.

“Euuuugh! Augh! Blegh! Is that really what I taste like? Eck! I’m so sorry, Screwball. I’ll try to spare ya next time. Eugh. That’s disgusting!” He rambles, overcompensating for his uneasy nerves again.

“Next time?” You raise your brows. Supple, wet lips smirking.

“Y-Yeah? Yeah…like… pfftt …if you want…” Peter shrugs, casual, blinking puppy dog eyes, “I dunno about you, but I’m havin’ a killer time fuckin’ around like this.” He adds, fingers toying with the hem of your panties.

Reaching for his cock, you take his length into your icy cold grip. Peter jolts again, cursing under his breath.

“I need to confess something too.” You say, bashful. Peter watches your facade of confidence diminish for a moment, “Would you still wanna do this if I told you I’m just as cold on the inside?”

“Woah…yeah. Listen, that is the opposite of a problem for me.” Peter reassures you, looking between your bodies, “Call me crazy? I’m really diggin’ the whole cold thing.”

He watches your fingers hook through the hem of your panties, sliding them down your smooth legs. It’s a bit awkward for you to get them off in this position. But eventually, you’re entirely exposed.

No more messing around. This is the real deal.

Wiggling your ass, you position your wintry cunt over his cock’s swollen head. Peter’s fingers tremble as they grab your ass for purchase. Holding you steady, he keeps his lidded gaze on your pussy. Entranced in the sight of your puffy lips lowering over his tip. Barely nudging it in, giving just a little tease of what’s to come. He shivers, muscles locking, shockwaves of glacial cold racing through his veins already.

“Ohhhhhhhh …wow…” He whines, teeth clamping his lip, “Please, ya gotta gimme more than that, baby.”

“Pietro, be patient.” You chastise him, fluttering your eyes closed.

Sighs and erotic moans of euphoria rise from the both of you in unison, just as his leaking tip dives through your cushiony walls. Peter shudders again, craning his neck back. Moaning a broken, strangled sound from deep in his chest. The tight, freezing sting of your cunt causes him to tense up. Peter digs his nails into the flesh of your ass, his lips parting for breath.

“Mmmmmfffuuck. You good? You okay?” You ask, little mewls bubbling in your throat.

Through frantic, wordless intakes of breath, Peter nods.

He’s never felt anything like this in all his thirty years of life. It’s a completely new sensation. The plushiest of pins and needles constricting tightly around his cock. Or the world’s softest pillow, pulled straight out of the freezer. Sex with you is the kind he could so easily become addicted to. If it was possible to stay connected this intimately forever, he’d do so in a heartbeat. No questions asked. Totally worth the searing pain of frostbite.

You take a few moments to adjust to the length and girth of him. It feels like centuries before you’re moving, but the wait is more than worth it. Your cunt weeps around his cock, swallowing him up completely in a frosty slickness. Peter chokes, his breath hitching. The pace you set is frustratingly slow, bouncing into his pelvis in steady slams of bush on silver bush.

“Fuck yeah. Just like that. More? C’mon gimme more, baby, please. Oh, please!” He whines, submissive and needy.

Sitting up a little straighter, you balance your cool hands on his chest. Peter’s skin is all raw and red, frostbitten from your previous teasing. It’s a little painful now, actually. Leaving a tingly burn. But the stinging pain registers as pleasure in Peter’s speedy brain.

Your pussy molds perfectly with the thick shape of him. Roughly shocking you with a surge of dull pain, Peter’s cock knocks straight into your squishy cervix. His expression contorts in overstimulation, his mouth falling open. He wets his lips with his tongue.

“That’s it. Fuckin’ ride me. Mmmmm yeah~” Peter moans, “Yer so fuckin’ cold. Shit-” His moans steadily trail off into whimpers.

“Should I stop? Is it too much?” You halt your movements for a second too long.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ stop.” He groans, animalistic and ragged, “Ohhhh~ Please don’t stop.”

As you thrust your beautiful body into his lap, Peter follows your lead. Driving his hips against your ass with each bounce of contact. Overshadowing that sultry melody of Pink Floyd with the lewd smacking of skin on skin. Your cunt hugs his cock in a grip tight enough to induce more freezer burn. But it’s such an alluring feeling, he bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

Peter’s brown-eyed gaze rakes down your body. Intoxicated with the way your titties bounce and your pussy sucks the ever-speeding soul out of him. He has to mentally-prep himself so he doesn’t cum too soon again. But the piercing cold compressing his dick sends thrilling pulses through his limbs. Erotic pleasure burns deep in his gut.

“Pietro!” You cry. Riding his dick and mewling soft kitten noises, you circle your little clit with your fingers, “Want me to cum on your cock, pretty boy? Wanna feel this tight, little pussy cum for you?” 

Ohhhhh. You can’t do that to him. Dirty, little minx. He’s never heard such filthy words like that come out of your mouth. And the way you sound, how you look touching yourself on his cock; It all triggers a carnal instinct in the recesses of his mind.

Peter lifts his hips in a display of super strength, abusing your cervix repeatedly with his cock. Pounding your pussy so fast and hard. With a force deep and rough enough to make you see stars. A filthy squelch of a sound echoes from inside you.

“Oh my god-” Peter’s face contorts in needy desperation, brows creasing, “Please? Wanna feel you cum, baby. Need you to cum on my dick so bad.”

Sitting up on his elbows with his mouth hanging lazily open, Peter brings his fingers to his drooling tongue. His eyes are half lidded and cloudy, almost rolling back into his skull. He reaches out, the wet pads of his fingers meeting your cute bud. He buzzes his digits in a scorching vibration, knowing how sensitive you are to his heat. Easily coaxing you towards release.

“HOH! FUCK-” Peter’s eyes flutter in shock, “ Ohmyfuckingod that’s really fuckin’ tight. ”

His body tenses hard as stone. Feeling you clench around him while he fucks you so deep he thinks he’s reached your stomach. Within a few, measly seconds of teasing vibrations on your clit; you’re cumming. Coating his cock in a wave of crisp slickness. You tremble uncontrollably, tilting your head back and crying like a siren of the arctic seas. Singing a mantra of the name Pietro.

Peter grips your hips hard with both hands, sinking his blunt nails into your skin. Animalistic instinct overflows his mind as soon as he’s reached his own peak. Ecstasy tumbles over Peter in an overwhelming crash, much like an avalanche. And just as he’s pumping you impossibly full of hot, thick ropes of cum; something happens.

His release burns inside you, pooling in a milky heat. A stark contrast to the freezing temperature constantly flowing through your body. Your nails scratch red lines into his chest, manifesting glass crystals of frost. They burn like hell, and Peter hisses. One, final slap of your ass against his lap, and –

A ripple of explosive, winter cold rushes from your body in a flash. The bombastic wave coats your entire room in powdery snow and sheets of ice. Turning the small space into a glorified freezer. It even hits the record player, slowing the final tune of Obscured by Clouds to a creeping stop. Piercing cold fires through Peter’s lungs, and he chokes on it.

…D…Did that really just happen??

Glancing around frantically, he pushes himself up on your bed.

A soft, tingling blanket of snow drapes his body. Peter sputters, quickly brushing as much of it off as he can. You’re still sitting over his lap, his softening dick tucked safely between your pussy’s plush walls. With every puff of warm air from his lungs, Peter can see his breath fanning like smoke through the air.

“Woooahhhhh, babe…” He nudges you on the shoulder to get your attention, his expression wide eyed and bewildered, “Are you seein’ this shit?”

Recovering from your numbing state of euphoria, you lazily scan your room. You gasp, though it sounds more like a really cute squeak; covering your mouth with a hand.

“Ah! What the hell did I do!? I’m sorry! Oh my god, Peter, I’m so sorry!” You say, dropping your face into Peter’s frost-bitten chest.

He hisses as you lean into his sensitive, scarred skin. And before you can spout off another flurry of sweet apologies – a noise catches the attention of you both. Outside, the two of you hear the unmistakable sound of children’s laughter. Joyful cries, followed by playful giggles and screams. You raise your head, meeting Peter’s doe eyes with a questioning look.

Narrowing his eyes, he pats your thigh. Signaling you to hop off his lap.

Clumsily, Peter zips around the room in a blur, searching for something to cover himself up with. But his clothes are all caked in snow. And not to mention a little something else. Peter has to resort to a blanket stuffed underneath all the others on your bed. Untouched by your surprise blizzard. He cloaks himself in the blanket, appearing at your door in a fwip.

Discreetly, he pulls the door open.

Or, at least, he makes an attempt. It’s completely frozen in place, sealed with ice around the lock and hinges.. Why is he even surprised at this point? Peter tugs the handle once or twice with barely any strength. And when that doesn’t work, he jerks it open with a harsh flex of his muscles. He pokes his fluffy, silverette head halfway out the door. Looking up and down the hallways.

Only to find…

Your orgasmic snowstorm reached places far beyond the confined space of your room. Looks like Christmas came early this year. The hallways of Xavier’s mansion are all drenched in frosty spreads of snow. It’s not nearly as much as what’s accumulated in your room. But it’s enough to stir up the students and teachers. Many of the kids run around excitedly. Bouncing, cheering, celebrating.

And who can blame them?

To those unseen forces of the universe out there: thanks for blessing us all with the power of Screwball's ecstasy.

Out of nowhere, the X-Men’s laser eyed leader makes his appearance. Scott comes skidding to a halt outside your door just at that moment. He balances himself with a hand to your door, a genial smile on his face. A fuzzy fust of red tickles the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

Across the hall, Logan leans casually against a wall. Puffing a cigar, wearing a thin undershirt that compliments his jacked form a little too well. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his fitted jeans.

For a moment, Scott doesn’t seem to register why Peter’s even in your room.

But in this life, one speedster can only be so lucky.

“Wh-...Peter? Hey-uh…where’s-” Scott mentions your name, and continues, “I wanted to give ‘em my thanks for doing this.” He gestures over his shoulder to the mess of snow covering the walls and floors, “Some of the kids were getting really sick from the weather. And I know Xavier's gonna be pissed, but-...” His voice slowly trails off.

Scott’s smile falls for a beat. But Peter finds it hard to read his emotions without seeing his eyes clearly. Those sunglasses must do him loads of favors on a daily basis. If he tries, he can gauge what’s going through Scott’s head based on the look of surprise that crosses his face. Followed by a sly, knowing grin.

Summers is an intelligent guy. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together.

Especially with the way Peter stands in your doorway. He’s draped in a blanket that clearly isn’t his, shoulders bare underneath. The surface of his skin burns cherry red in some places. His hair is a tousled, fuzzy mess, and his cheeks are flushed bright pink.

Peter awkwardly swallows, avoiding the vibrant gaze of Scott’s red-tinted sunglasses. He directs his attention over his shoulder instead, making accidental eye contact with Logan. Wolvie arches a thick, quizzical brow, his eyes glancing over Peter’s blanketed form.

He really hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about this. But it looks like the cat’s out of the bag.

“You kids better be using protection.” Scott jokes, patronizing.

Which is funny, coming from him. Peter’s got ten years on him at the least.

“Uhhhh, yeah. I’ll totally tell ‘em you said thanks. We cool? Bitchin’. Later, Summers.” Peter rushes through his words ultra fast, before slamming the door shut behind him.

That’ll be a rough one to explain later. But hopefully no one’ll be nosy enough to pry. Besides, Peter doesn’t wanna think about it right now. Since, y’know, he kinda just got laid for the first time. Which is really fucking awesome, now that he can stop and really digest that it happened. And with someone he’s been crushing on too.

Maybe he’s luckier than he thought.

Peter presses his back against your icy door, letting the thick blanket covering his body fall to the floor. Leaving him butt ass naked in your freezer of a room. He rakes his fingers through his hair, cheesing a goofy smile to himself.

“What’s goin’ on? Were you talkin’ to someone?” You ask, emerging from your bathroom and brushing snow off a towel.

“Oh- pfffttt …just Summers. Yeah. He-uh…wanted to tell you thanks. ‘Cuz you kinda went all blizzard on this whole place and now it’s, like-” Peter makes a wide gesture with his hands, mimicking the sound of an avalanche falling. Or, that’s what he tries to do, anyway. He’s never been the best at charades.

“HUH!? What are you-” You rush to your door. Those pretty titties of yours bounce with every step. And Peter ogles them shamelessly. Poking your head through the door, he overhears the sound of your gasp. Followed by the shyest little, “Heyyyyyy, Logan.”

Before you’re closing the door again, marching to your bathroom with your head cast down in shame. 

“Xavier’s gonna kill me, dude! I can’t believe this!” You whisper-shout.

Your bashfulness and frustration are so cute, Peter has to refrain from snickering. And as you reach the doorway, you stop yourself. He catches the motion of your eyes checking him out, before your gazes meet again. Peter smirks.

“Uhm…how was your first time, by the way?” You ask in a quiet, uncertain tone, “Was it…okay?”

Oh, you cannot even be serious right now.

Peter gives you a weird look. Staring at you like you’re some strange, newly discovered entity from a far off universe. Really, you must be, if you’re gonna question a good time like that.

“Okay? Okay?? ” Peter appears before you in less than a blink’s time.

He wraps his strong arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body. Grinning confidently, he darts down to kiss your frosty lips.

“Screwball, baby, that was a total rush. Are you crazy? It’s not every day I make somebody cum so hard they kickstart an early winter, y’know. Not bad fer my first time, if I do say so myself.” He waggles his brows.

I’m really glad I could help you out…” You mutter, smiling so sweet.

Your fingers trace the burns littering Peter’s chest with a feather-light touch. Even the faintest brush makes him wince in pain. But he’s not ashamed to admit it’s totally worth it. What’s a little freezer burn and frostbite between friends, huh?

Or, between…whatever the two of you are now.

“Oh, you did wayyyy more than help me out.” Peter winks, kissing you once more, “You rocked my world babe. Don’t sweat it, ‘kay? I had a great time.”

You saunter off to your bathroom then. And Peter reaches out to playfully smack your ass as you walk away. He admires your gorgeous figure in all its naked glory. His eyes following the jiggle of your booty cheeks.

“Yer still takin’ me on that date, right? Dinner and a movie?” He asks, startling you with his sudden appearance in the bathroom. Peter presses himself into your back, standing tall in comparison to your height.

“Can we hold off? Do you think you can wait until the city isn’t on fire?” You meet his dark eyes in the mirror over the sink, “And it can’t be Howard the Duck.”

“No. It’s most definitely gotta be Howard the Duck.” Peter brings his warm hands to your shoulders, thumbs gliding along your soft skin. He leans down to pepper your sex hair in kisses, “I won’t accept nothin’ else, got it?

“Mmmhm. Shouldn’t I be the judge of that, Peter? Since, like, you keep implying I’m the one paying.”

He scoffs, slowly gliding his large hands over the irresistible curves of your body. He gives a mischievous grin through the mirror, his look oozing speedster charm.

“Who said anything about paying?”

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

id lovee to hear ur rankings of the comic book men from appearing to be the most normal to something is obviously wrong w them (if that makes sense... like,,,, who is and isnt an obv red flag)

ur writing keeps me fed :3

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐒…

!!! GN reader, manipulation, gaslighting, mentions of stalker-ish picture-taking, mentions of schizophrenia and anxiety, poor treatment of mental illness, mentions of violent behaviors, murderous Bucky Barnes, Tim Drake (he’s just a problem), mentions of suicidal tendencies, can be translated as platonic or romantic.

EAAAAATT!!!!! EEEEAAAAATTTT!!!!!!!!! EAT MY WRITING!!!! CONSUME IT!!!!!!!!!!!

Remember, this is from least to most, meaning we’ll talk about the seemingly well-adjusted folks first and gradually move up to the, “okay, what the fuck is wrong with him” peeps.

Wally West: The way he’s playing everyone like a fiddle is downright disrespectful. He’s filled to the brim with green flags, easily appearing as one of the safest guys on the planet. Even when you start to suspect something, you have to constantly second guess yourself, because come on… it’s Wally. What the fuck can he do wrong? Don’t even bother voicing any of your concerns. No one — and I mean no one — will believe you. Having problems with Wally West? The embodiment of a warm summer evening? Damn, that sounds like a you problem. Poor Wally, having to deal with a crazy weirdo.

Dick Grayson: He’s got an amazing personality and pretty privilege working for him. At this rate, the masses manipulate themselves. Only those who are extremely perceptive will pick up on the cold glint in his eyes, and even then, the mystique only adds to his charm. By the time you realize he’s been hiding a darker side, it’s too late. Everyone’s too captivated by how endearing Dick is to hear you out. Even those who know him personally — who know about his struggles and rough patches — think you’re full of shit. Dick’s an emotionally mature man, so why don’t you just talk it out with him?

Steve Rogers: This is a bit unfair, considering the leverage he’s granted as Captain America, but hey… work what you got. While it may seem obvious to you that he’s way too overbearing and protective, good luck trying to get other people on your side. Everyone else thinks it’s a part of his 40s charm. Social norms were just different back then; why can’t you be more appreciative of his old-fashioned care? Besides, you’re probably overreacting. Is it really that bad? Steve is the leader of the Avengers, so maybe you’re just taking his authoritative demeanor the wrong way.

Clark Kent: I’m gonna be so for real, any man from a fuckass state like Kansas is going to come with some personality quirks. People will probably give him the benefit of the doubt by default. Just a farm boy trying to navigate the big city and can’t even hurt a fly. Sure, he can be odd at times, but nothing makes him an inherently bad guy. This is the same man that helps old people cross the street, for god’s sake! He most definitely means well, it’s just a matter of setting boundaries with him. What’s the worst he can do?

Remy LeBeau: Despite what differing opinions may say about The Gambit, Remy seems like he’s got his head on his shoulders. His “red flags” are more on the blurry side. Do you count excessive flirting as a red flag? What about hiding behind charisma and a fake ego instead of going to therapy? Some people may say yes, others no. But in terms of glaring red flags, Remy’s relatively clean. We’ve all got our issues, no? Being a thief doesn’t make you a psycho. That being said, due to Remy’s shifty past, people may be more inclined to listen should you ever express that something’s wrong.

Peter Parker: Honestly… he’s a bit of a weirdo. Nothing obvious at first, but the longer you know him, the more behaviors you may pick up on that make you go, “oh… well… that’s weird”. Take his Polaroid obsession, for example. He’s got at least one photo in every jacket pocket, dozens in his wallet, and a fuck ton in his desk. Poor guy accidentally spilled them all over the ground once, which naturally sparked rumors. But Peter’s a sweetheart. Clingy, but still a sweetheart. Maybe he’s just a little messed up due to everything he’s lost in his life.

Bruce Wayne: Okay. Red flags in the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne? Absolutely unheard of. He’s an absolute angel. According to all of the stan accounts out there, he could do nothing wrong. But red flags in the real Bruce Wayne? Where do we even begin. Distrusting as fuck, paranoid, argumentative, the occasional fit of violence, a known manipulator and liar… want me to keep going, because I can. It’s very hard to rank Bruce due to the ginormous contrast between general public opinion and those who actually know him, so he goes smack in the middle. Billionaire Bruce Wayne would never be a horrible person to you, but the real Bruce Wayne 100% would.

Jaime Reyes: Because of how mental illness is stigmatized, Jaime’s unfortunately labeled to be dangerous. But it’s not really his fault. That damn scarab has him muttering to himself like a crackhead, and naturally assumptions will be made. When actually given a chance, people will learn that Jaime’s a nice kid. He just probably struggles with schizophrenia or really bad anxiety. Yes, his paranoia can get bad, but again; mental illness. He’s never proven himself to a threat, despite what others may think. He just needs help (but there’s no way to combat the manipulation of Khaji Da. Jaime lost that battle the moment he became Blue Beetle).

Hal Jordan: Oh, yeah. He’s got red flags alright. But they’re mostly normal ones, like his ego and horrendous stubborn streak. Lots of guys out there are like that, and are they considered freaks? No. Well, not all of them. However, it is a bit concerning that he’s willing to throw hands at the drop of a hat. Bro’s one major freak out away from catching assault charges like they’re Pokémon. But if it’s any consolation, it should be noted that he hasn’t gotten into major legal trouble. On Earth. Yet. Some call him rough around the edges, others call him a severely troubled individual. Either way, he definitely needs to seek professional help.

Scott Summers: MAJOR red flags. He’s an overbearing control freak that really needs to work on his… well… his everything. Emotional intelligence, temper, daddy issues… yeah, no. He’s an amazing leader, but probably someone you should steer clear from otherwise. Most wouldn’t be surprised if you two were having issues. It’s not like he wears all of his problems on his sleeve; the iceberg goes much deeper than that. Though he sure as hell doesn’t present himself as a well-adjusted member of society. Proceed at your own risk. Don’t say you weren’t warned, because you probably were.

Bucky Barnes: This is the opposite of Captain America’s case. His reputation as the Winter Soldier kind of skews the perception of him to be a walking red flag. And you know, he really is. Bucky is extremely dangerous. Down to snap necks anytime, anywhere, no amount of charm or endearing quirks will make people feel fully safe around him. His history of violence did not stop post-brainwashing. And it’s not like he’s hiding it, either. There’s this crazed gleam in his eyes that just screams “fuck around and find out,” no matter what his mood is. Who in their right mind would involve themself with THE Winter Soldier?! Yeah, no shit you’re having issues with him. He is an issue.

Tim Drake: Bro is the epitome of “you’re scaring the hoes.” He could be walking down the street — face neutral, hands in his pockets — and total strangers will get the sense that something is deeply wrong with him. The aura around him exudes the reddest of flags. Yes, his face and intelligence are attractive, but even those who have fallen for his pretty boy swag can’t help but sigh dreamily and think, “he really needs to be institutionalized.” Disturbing humor. Creepy staring. Mood swings. Suicidal tendencies. Sadomasochism to the max. The list goes on and on and on. If Dead Dove: Do Not Eat was a person, it’d be him. What were you expecting? It’s Tim fucking Drake.

[lavender-at-heart]

Hello!! Can you please make "Dating Carlisle would include" like you did with other Cullens? I saw you wanted Twilight request, and I really want more Carlisle content, so. Thank you in advance!

YESSSS FOR SURE!! BEEN DYING TO DO THIS ANYWAY. 💖💖💖💓💓💓

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

Dating Carlise HCs:

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x GN!reader (but fem in mind)

Warnings: none

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

So the whole "I've waited a hundred years for this" is kind of applicable to all the Cullens, but-

It's different! Carlisle has waited like 300 years. He's honestly given up hope in ever finding a mate, thought it wasn't in the cards for him

And despite having a loving family, seeing all of them and his friends find a life partner made him lonley. He was happy, but a lonley person.

So when you come into his life it's like a million fireworks go off at once!

He may be very rusty and old-fashioned, but that doesn't mean he doesn't sweep you off your feet!

You would be seriously head over heels within the first 5 mins of talking

Wether you were one of the Cullen kids' friends or you were in need of medical attention, you were hooked the minute you met

You definitely thought there has to be a catch

He can't be handsome, rich, kind, smart, respectful, AND sane

I'm not sure how it would work with his super self control, but he would probably feel at least a little bit of a thirst for your blood

He'd probably freak out a bit and be overall shocked

Maybe a bit repulsed with himself for even slightly wanting to indulge in human blood

Nevertheless he overcomes this and quickly works on spending time with you

Obviously he wants to come across as normal as possible but he can't help but be overly enthusiastic

Dates would include dinners to expensive restaurants, way too expensive in your opinion

Long walks by the beach or in the forest near his house

Stargazing

Reading by the fireplace

Loves reading you to sleep

Ballet, Opera, or classical music shows are probably a must

But he's down to more casual things too

Being with you makes him feel human, so late night 7-11 trips, or binge watching a show gives him a new, fresh, taste of a cosy life

He loves loves loves to cook for you

Puts on the cooking channel and gets to work

Will try different recipes and cuisines and have you rate each meal

Will go with Alice to the mall so he can buy you all sorts of gifts

Will teach you how to properly dance, none of that jumping up and down business

Would love the idea of getting married soon, he knows you both will never want anyone else

But he would also love to support you in your future in normal society, while you have it

Wether that be post-seccondary or a career

Speaking of weddings, probably a big one

He would invite his long list of friends of course, maybe even the volturi

But simple. He never wants to be showy, but he's just so proud and exited!

Definitely nothing extravagant, keep things classy and nice

He would always be there during difficult times

Obviously if your going through physical difficulties he's the man

You get the best, at home treatment

Top quality soup, tea, and medicine

Due to his super hearing and even smell he can tell if there's a tickle in your throat or a bug in your stomach

But if your feeling down or going through a rough patch he's there

He knows better than anyone that life is full of highs and lows, and he sticks around for the lows

--------------------------------------------‐----------

Thanks for reading, I welcome any feedback!

Xoxo

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | May 6th-12th 2024

Have a good week everyone!

If you know anyone who isn't tagged, please tag them in the comments!

Complete

you don't wanna know me now by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Post-S7E7 | 1,3K | Teen): “Just one date,” Kim says casually, though she’s definitely picked up on whatever weird, uncomfortable tension has just entered the room with them, “this past Friday.” “Friday?” Buck repeats in an octave much higher than his normal one. Because Friday... Friday was when he watched Christopher while Eddie went out on date with — not Marisol, apparently.

taurus moon, libra rising by coldbam/ @coldbam (Established Buddie | 1,4K | General): “And I’m getting a lot of Virgo energy from Firefighter Diaz.” “Oh my God, he is a Virgo.” Buck excitedly smacks Eddie on the arm. “Do me next!” ~ Buck falls into astrology. Eddie is Eddie.

Mistakes by theotherlucifer/ @theotherbuckley (S7E7 Coda | 1,6K | Teen): Or Eddie Diaz makes bad decisions, but he can't help it, it's his wife.

Fluttering Wings of Freedom by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (S7E5 Spec, Coming Out | 2K | General): Hen didn’t really know what she expected to find. Her mind had raced through a million different scenarios, catastrophizing the way only a paramedic could when faced with getting a phone call from her wife telling her to forget the groceries and hurry home. She’d expected broken glass or maybe blood and tears. What she didn’t expect was to find Karen sitting patiently in the arm chair with a cup of hot cocoa in her hands, a bottle of Jack on the coffee table, and Buck practically vibrating on her couch. 

wait for the feeling of you by coldbam/ @coldbam (PWP, Established Buddie | 2K | Explicit): “Fuck. Get up here. Let me take care of you.” Eddie feels Buck shake his head, still nuzzled against his thigh. He gives one last kiss to Eddie’s skin, then starts extracting himself from between Eddie’s legs, wiping his mouth along the way. “No, I’m good. We’re running late as it is.” And…that is reasonable and rational. They did get a bit carried away, and they are expected to make an appearance at Bobby’s for a barbeque. Except…

meditating on your lips by coldbam/ @coldbam (PWP | 3K | Explicit): Buck comes out, and Eddie has some interesting dreams.

blackout by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Getting Together | 3K | Explicit): Buck wakes up hungover on Eddie's couch, with no memory of the night before. Eddie's at just as much of a loss as he is, but their friends seem to know something they don't.

let it once be me (who do i have to speak to) by lenaboskow (Post-S7E4, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): “Why not me?” Eddie didn’t mean to say it. The question had been banging around in his head for the past week, but now it was out in the open, echoing off the walls of the loft for Buck to hear instead of safe in his mind. “Why– what do you mean?”

things you shouldn’t say to me by coldbam/ @coldbam (Getting Together, PWP | 4K | Mature): Eddie comes out, sleeps around, and Buck hears all about it.

little by little by MediaWhore/ @mediawhorefics (BuckTommy, Madney Wedding | 4K | General): Or Buck & Tommy, during and after the wedding.

he's never gonna love you like I want to by BekkaChaos/ @bekkachaos (S7, Demisexual Eddie | 5K | Teen): Eddie and Marisol talk about their relationship and the next step, and Eddie tries to articulate how he feels and why things aren't moving as fast as Marisol wants. A couple of days later Buck goes to Eddie's and they have a long talk about their feelings and their relationships, and probably let things go unsaid that aren't yet ready to come out.

Exhale by themandylion (Presumed Dead | 5K | Not Rated): Buck’s Jeep gets stolen, which is a pretty shitty way to start the day. The 118 answer a collision and find said Jeep on fire, a deceased driver inside, which is arguably an even worse way to start the day.

Give Us The Grown by fruitsdoesnotknow (Getting Together | 8K | Teen): Buck starts leaving notes for Eddie. Eddie writes notes for Buck right back. They were always going to end up writing their own love story.

the tiniest moves you make by allyasavedtheday/ @littlespoonevan (Maddie POV | 8K | Teen): Five times Buck talks to Maddie about Eddie intercut with five times Eddie talks to Maddie about Buck and one time they manage to figure it out on their own.

why do i always feel like i'm in the twilight zone by chromatophorica/ @chromatophorica (Supernatural AU | 6K | General): The 118 is a prolific, all supernatural station. They face the hardest of calls for this reason, but they're curious about what species Buck is from the start. When they find out, it's a complex navigation to keep him where he belongs.

drink up (you're wasted on me) by okanus (S7E6, Bachelor Party, Infidelity, PWP | 9K | Explicit): Or: Eddie and Buck hook up at the bachelor party. Difficulties ensue.

gone fishing by coldbam/ @coldbam (Accidental Catfishing, Getting Together | 9K | Mature): “Someone is catfishing as you.” His eyes are wide and his face is serious. Stressed. Eddie has no idea what he’s talking about. “What?” Buck slows down and carefully says each word. “Someone's using stolen photos of you on a dating app. Pretending to be you.” He looks miserable, like it pains him to deliver this news. Eddie’s face must still show confusion, because Buck lets out a frustrated huff and then shoves his phone right in front of his face. “Look.” And. Shit. Buck’s phone shines brightly in the evening light of the loft, and there, nearly blinding him, is his own Tinder profile.

🔥 It's a church of burnt romances (and I'm too far gone to pray) by justhockey (Coming Out, Post-S7E5 | 15K | Mature): Eddie looks back, sifting through the ashes of every relationship he’s ever had that has burned to the ground. And his hands shake, and his heart beats too fast, and it’s there, right on the tip of his tongue. It’s close enough that he could reach out and touch it if he were brave enough. The reason, that no matter how hard he tried - no matter how much he wanted to, or how often he literally prayed for it - his relationships with women have never worked out. And he knows. Knows that no amount of women, or trying, or praying will ever be able to change it. You can’t fix what isn’t broken, and Eddie isn’t broken. He isn’t. He’s just…well. He’s in love with Buck, isn’t he?

🔥 The Pain Will Leave You Once It's Done Teaching You by fruitsdoesnotknow (Canon Divergent, Daniel Lives-kinda | 40K | Mature): When Daniel Buckley lives a little longer, Evan Buckley dies a little more. And this is how Eddie Diaz saves him, a little later on.

🔥what if i can't have us by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-S7E5, Getting Together, Sexuality Crisis | 47K Explicit): In which Eddie is dating Marisol; Buck's dating Tommy, and Eddie has feelings about that, which he simply does. not. understand.

WIP

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 127/? | 397K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

🔥 change the prophecy by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Alternate Timeline, Curse/Magic | 9/11 | 22K | Mature): Buck has never felt secure in any of his relationships; he’s been searching for someone to see him the way he feels he’s meant to be seen, but after things start going downhill with Tommy, he thinks that person might just not exist. Eddie cannot figure out what’s wrong with him when it becomes clear things with Marisol aren’t going to work out. But what if they’re both forgetting something?

🔥 stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong by Daffi_990_ao3/ @daffi-990 (Canon Divergent, Different First Meeting | 4/10 | 31K | Not Rated): Probational Firefighters Evan “Buck” Buckley and Eddie Diaz meet on a call which ends with them at odds with each other. As the months roll by, they keep running into each other on the job, much to Eddie’s dismay and Buck’s delight. Can they put aside their first opinions and misunderstandings and allow the seeds of friendship, and possibly something more, to take root?

What’s Your Order? by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S7E5, BuckTommy | 4/6 | 10K | Teen): 5 Times Buck Guessed Tommy’s Coffee Order + 1 Time He Didn’t Have To

Held Up a Lightning Rod (Wonder Why I'm Struck) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Not A Firefighter Eddie, Sugar Baby Buck | 1/? | 5K | Explicit): When Eddie Diaz stumbles his way into money, he finds himself one of the most eligible bachelors in Los Angeles - to his dismay. He needs a way to get people off his back without confessing his messy marital situation, and Shannon's still not answering his calls, so he caves to a friend's suggestion: hire someone to pretend to be his partner. Enter Evan "Buck" Buckley: sugar baby, fire fighter, and the man about to turn Eddie's world upside down.

Podfic

🔥 [Podfic] When the Lost are Found by MistMarauder/ @mistmarauder for ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Soulmates AU | 20-30 min | General): When everyone seems to have a better soulmate identifying system, Buck can't help but consider his own to be lackluster. How's he meant to find his soulmate with loose change and mismatched socks after all?

🔥 [podfic] Trade-In by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for themandylion (Post-S4, Getting Together | 1-1.5h | Not Rated): It starts with Buck trading in his beloved Jeep. It ends with a confession, a kiss, and Buck trading in his apartment too. Or: If you didn't think Buck research binges wouldn't eventually take him to safety specs for his car, you don't know Buck.

🔥 [podfic] my heart’s over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 1-1.5h | Teen): or, a fever, a party, a late night tv show: three times eddie’s heart falls out his ass because buck keeps looking at him like that. he’s just got to find a way to tell him that doesn’t involve a convoluted cephalopod analogy about love

🔥 [Podfic] Tell Me About Despair by radpaisley // fic by @hattalove (Post-S4, Sexuality Crisis | 1/5 | 2-2.5h | Mature): eddie's not entirely sure he believes in getting help, at least not for himself. there's only so much healing to be had for a body torn apart by bullets, for a mind that's only half there, for a man who's been leaving pieces of himself behind all his life with nothing to take their place. except, as it turns out, falling apart happens in increments, and healing does, too: it happens when you gnaw a hole in your lip trying to keep quiet only to have the words escape; when you realize that the ghost you've been seeing out of the corner of your eye is yourself; when your best friend smiles, and you allow it to take your breath away. it happens through the smallest of things: bird feeders, and cacti, and pasta shapes. meanwhile, the world goes on.

[random-introverted-blog]

Come Home To Me [Ascended!Astarion x F!Reader]

The 10MB limit will be the death of me

Intended Audience: Mature [May ratings never stop you]

Who be smoochin?: Astarion x F!Reader

The Bit: You leave Astarion, save the day and go back to your hometown to live happily ever after with your family. Good thing he's not your crazy jealous ex. Otherwise who knows what he'd do when he found you? Happily minding your own business? oh, perish the thought, darling. Oh, and some time later you accidentally die without permission. He is not a happy camper about any of this. He may or may not raze your town and kill your family in the process...

Warnings/Advisories: It's Ascended!Astarion, guys. Come on. Still need me to explain? Fine. *Unfurls the world's longest scroll* Expect yandere elements, forced vampirism [yes...], intentional manipulation to cause Stockholm Syndrome. Emotional abuse by proxy, possessive behavior *pauses to shimmy more of the scroll into view* "you have a sister and she kinda a thirsty ho but we don't judge you go queen". And violence. Of the graphic variety. "I would have given you a dog, but he'd have probably killed the dog". Everything is (literally) on fire. And death. Lots of it. ANGST. Bad ending? Depends on what you consider bad. If you like obsessive yandere vampire boys then it's probably a good ending for you.

Words, all the words (count) : 4,001 baebeee

And away, we... GO

ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The last thing you said to him about it was in reply to his hurtful comments.

"Well, that's fine with me. My home isn't with you, anyway."

It had been some time since you defeated the Absolute and your quiet little hamlet had remained such since your triumphant return. Hardly a thing had changed, not the Wilks farmstead, not the general store, not even that old and tipping wooden signpost. Few of your companions knew of the place you called home. He had never asked; you had never told, and it seems it was a blessing you hadn't. The last thing you wanted was for him to stroll into town and go out of his way to remind you how happy he was without you.

Which definitely seemed like a thing he would do.

As if he didn't have better things to do.

Thankfully, it sounds like he has. Such an opportunity to take Baldur's Gate by the throat was one only a fool would pass up. And Astarion Ancunín was certainly no fool. In no time, he had charmed and maneuvered himself to the top of the food-chain. By means of persuasion, intimidation... and a tactic of his you're intimately familiar with.

Seduction.

Oh, the rumors of who he has or hasn't slept with. Was it necessary to get where he was now? No. It was a display of power now. Dominance. He could have anything and anyone he wanted, anyone he deemed worth his whim, and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do to stop it. And clearly, he didn't want you.

It stung a little. You had genuinely fallen in love with the man he used to be. But that was the keyword, wasn't it? He used to be. The man he had become now was a stranger. The warmth that once resided in his eyes had been replaced by a chilling, calculating gaze. Gods, why didn't he just listen to you? He didn't need the ritual. He was already more than enough...

With a shake of your head, you stepped out the front door of your small, two floor cottage and made the brief journey to your parents' house. A smile curled your lips when you saw your older sister waiting for you outside "Y/N, you're late!" She scolds with a laugh, throwing her arms around you.

A roll of your eyes and you returned her hug. "An adventurer is never late. They arrive always when they intend to."

"Sounds like a fancy way of admitting you're always late to me." Your brother remarks gruffly. Your mother not far behind. "You sure your time as a big hero didn't go to your head?" He adds with a raise of his eyebrow.

You move away from your sister and embrace your mother first, then your brother. "I kind of had other things in my head then, brother dearest," you remind them with a small laugh.

Your mother lightly smacked your brother's large arm and narrowed her eyes. "Don't drive her away with that attitude of yours, unless you want her to return to adventuring!" She scolds with a playful glint in her gaze.

A sigh escaped your lips. It had been five long years since you've taken up your old gear and hit the road. Part of you missed it. But you'd never admit that to her. She was just so glad to have you home, you couldn't bear to take that from her. Not after your father had passed while you were out saving the world.

"Come now, my starlings, I've got your sister's favorite on the stove for lunch," she cooed and herded the three of you inside. And like every time you come over, you spend your time regaling them of your journey and heroics. Of your friends' camaraderie around the campfire. From Wyll's many dances with Karlach, Shadowhearts' best snarky comebacks, Gale's incredible displays of powerful magic and Lae'zel's discipline, her culture and brutal efficiency.

And every time, you noticed the look your brother would give. Initially, you thought it was protectiveness. No matter how much you tried to downplay it, your family was acutely aware of the gravity of your situation back then. Perhaps your brother was merely thinking how many times they came so close to losing you, without them realizing it.

Maybe it was partly true, but it certainly was not the only reason. "Sister, I'm sorry but I must ask..." He began, gently clearing his throat as he leaned back in his chair, across the table from you. "I was in the Gate not too long ago and heard... things. That you never seem to mention yourself..."

Despite your efforts to wrack your brain, you come up blank and draw your brows together. You cast a glance at your sister beside you and your mother, beside your brother. They don't seem as confused as you... "Lord Ancunín, was he not a companion of yours? They say he is also a Hero of Baldur's Gate."

"Yes." You answer sharply, also leaning back in your chair. "And you heard he and I were involved, I take it? That's what this is about?" You were getting defensive. You knew it, but you couldn't stop it. Even now, the damned elf was a sore spot for you.

The man your brother was, he never backed down or cowed away from anything, hardly ever you and only consistently your mother. He dipped his chin and held your glare. "Did he hurt you?" He asked, his words blunt but his tone low.

You chuckle dryly, and your gaze immediately flicks towards the door. "What does it matter? It was five years ago. Astarion and I were in love, yes, love. And then he took a path I couldn't follow in good conscience. So we did what we had to, then went our separate ways."

He paused, considering your response. Your sister was practically biting her nails in an effort to silence all the questions she had for you about your evidently dramatic love life. Your mother gave you the worst look of them all.

Pity.

"If it is as you say, little sister. Then I can only commend you for remembering your worth. From what I gather, he is not a man worthy of your attention," he says with a stiff nod.

A weak smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "He was. Once..."

"So what was he like? Was he as charming and beautiful as they say he is in person?" Your sister gushes as soon as she deems there's an opening in the conversation.

You hold up a hand to stop your brother and mother from scolding her. Somehow she's older than you, if only by two years. "Yes, and yes. Even after we broke up, I found him painfully gorgeous. His voice was like velvet, he was smart and witty and knew just what to say..." now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, you decided to indulge your sister's silly fascination about your ex. If just for today.

Afterward, the three of you, as always, did the remaining housework for your mother. A gesture of gratitude for everything she had done for you all as children, and still into adulthood. Life without your father had noticeably taken its toll, hence why your siblings had moved back home. None of them had outside obligations, and you were still trying to settle down from your adventuring days and really needed the quiet.

On your way out the door, intent on your cottage for the evening, your mother touched your arm. "Before I forget, starling!" she says, reaching for the small table next to the door, "this came here, addressed to you."

She extends her hand, offering you a letter adorned with a peculiar and ornate wax seal. You turn it over once or twice in your hand before smiling and thanking her. Odd. The only ones who wrote to you were Shadowheart and Gale and not only did they know to send your letters to your home, but they didn't use wax seals either. Not even Gale.

No one else knew where your hometown was. Even fewer that you returned here after your party disbanded. So who else could have sent it? That is clearly your name above the seal. It was not a mistake on the courier's part. But then, that was the only way this made much sense. Who could have found, cared enough to write and send a letter to you after all this time? To the wrong house, to boot?

It was a persistent question that nagged at you, making the walk home feel longer than usual. Paying only mild attention to the eerie stillness in the cool night air.

You set it down on your kitchen table to turn on the lanterns around your cottage, illuminating the room with a soft, golden glow before you decide to open it at last. The letter revealed its contents - or lack thereof, as you unfolded it and saw only two lines in the center of the parchment.

Playtime is over, pet.

It's time for you to come home.

For a moment, and only a moment, your brows draw together. And when it clicks in your mind, you toss the letter on the table as if it's poisoned, or worse, Him and you paced restlessly in front of your table. Fixated on the parchment, as if it might attack you when you least expect it. What could he possibly want now? Half a decade later, you've moved on. Hadn't he? How many others had he taken to his bed since you went your separate ways? Couldn't he have busied himself with them instead? Out of all those partners, a plethora of variety, you were sure, not a one of them had held his attention for at least a decade? And why, by all the gods above and below, did he send it to your mother's house? Such a careless mistake was unlike him. If he had gone through all this effort to find you, surely he had to at least know where you actually lived in town.

Your heart sunk as the thought crossed your mind.

It wasn't a mistake. He doesn't just know where you live...

A scream rang out, snapping your eyes to the door. More shrieks followed, and you darted to the window. Faces ran frantically down and up the road, smoke billowed into night sky, dusted with stars, from closer to the village center. You clenched your teeth, giving yourself a moment to seethe with anger before rushing upstairs to the chest at the foot of your bed. Did you have time to equip your armor? Most likely, not. Best to take your weapons. The sooner you're outside, the better.

Prepared as you were ever going to be, you dashed down the stairs and shouldered your front door open. The raiders were already in front of your house. You recognized the hauntingly pale, lifeless face of Gregory, the barman, in the claws of a half elf. His sharp red eyes weredistant as he gorges on his meal, mouth latched tight to Gregory's neck.

"Another!" cheered a nasally voice behind you. Two spawn leaped down from the thatch roof of your home. Quickly closing in. The human woman continued, "Ohh, I can taste this one already! How delicious! Perhaps I should save some for Master—"

"Don't be foolish!" hissed the half elf, tossing the drained body aside. "Master said our reward was a feast, and I intend to feast!" He lunged, fangs glistening with fresh blood in the dim light. Experience traveling with at least one vampire had prepared you for the tactic, and you stepped out of the way with ease.

It was the halfling that seemed the only one not mad with bloodlust. "B-but Master said... there was one we couldn't..." she stammered, eyeing you almost with recognition.

But the other two ignored her and threw themselves at you again.

Despite the boredom that consumed your life over the past few years, you were unwavering in your commitment to staying in shape and proficient in combat. You sparred regularly with the local guards, who were more than happy to help. They learned a few things in turn, after all, from the Hero of Baldur's Gate. So staying almost two steps ahead of these stumbling corpses was a breeze, almost comically easy for you.

Until your eyes caught sight of a burning home, the heat of the flames could be felt from where you stand. Your mother's burning home... As everything else melted away, a numbness washed over your limbs and your heart settled into stillness. Just as you were about to cry out, a blade mercilessly penetrated your back, twisting with a force that seemed intent on separating your torso from your hip. The taste of blood coated your tongue, while an indescribable agony consumed your every nerve. Fangs as sharp as razors mercilessly sunk into your neck, accompanied by the loud, insatiable slurping sounds that invaded your ears.

Except for one last sound before your world began to fade. "No! You worthless wastes of flesh, what are you doing!?" roared from somewhere distant, rapidly getting closer.

The grip on your body relented, and you crumpled to the ground. Above you, a familiar, curly white-haired, fangs and all ascendant vampire lord. His face was almost feral. Hoisting the human by the throat with one hand, her feet kicking in the air. "I gave you an entire village of fools to feed on, a vivid description of the one woman who was off-fucking-limits...!"

A serene anger washed over his face, causing a shiver to run down your spine, as he sealed his lips and glared at her with an icy stare. "You will wait, on your knees, until I am ready to thoroughly enjoy goring your body with my bare hands."

Her voice strained, she barely managed to gasp out "Master...!" before he mercilessly flung her aside, treating her with the indifference one would show to a discarded toy. The moment her body hit the ground, it rigidly rolled and moved until it settled on its knees in place. Silent sobs wracked her body, and tears streamed down her face, leaving her cheeks damp.

In an instant, his eyes landed on your unfocused one, coughing blood. You knew you were dying. But it wasn't as sad, or even as painful as you expected. "You spiteful son of a bitch..." you hissed, spitting blood from your mouth. He opened his to reply, but you wouldn't let him. You were going to enjoy this... You panted, wheezing the last of your energy into your last twist into his heart. "I damn you, Astarion... I damn you to the Hells. I damn you to misery..." Quoting the man that you knew haunted him still.

You take the clenching of his jaw and his balled fists to your grave with delight as your eyes fall closed, and you breathe your last.

You finally find peace, a gentle presence that settles within your soul. It was a peace so pure, so profound, that it felt almost otherworldly. There was a weightlessness in the air, as if burdens had been lifted and freedom embraced. Your eyes are drawn to the path ahead, its surface adorned with pristine, pearly white stones. Your brother stood at the end, ready to greet you. There stood your father and mother, beckoning you with open arms. And your heart swells with an untameable warmth as you start down toward them.

A cold, deathly grip catches the back of your neck, sending a sudden jolt of fear through your body. Pain squeezed you with an intensity you had never felt before. Your mouth opens, but not even a whimper escapes you as you're forcefully dragged back, kicking and flailing.

With a heavy gasp, your heart pounds in your chest as you lurch forward. Or at least you start before cold, familiar hands grab hold of you, pulling you into his arms. "Now, now, darling, just relax..." Astarion sighs in your ear, his voice thick with... relief?

You died... you were free of this... of him. "I was... going home..." you whimper, unable to fully choke back the sob, not even sure how he managed to forcefully bring you back.

"You are already home, pet."

In your frantic attempt to escape, you notice that the sights, sounds, and smells are completely different - you're no longer in your village, but a large, opulent bedchamber. Lavish furniture and ornaments of gold, silver, so many you quickly lose count. The gentle, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock provided a comforting background noise. A luxorious silk gown, likely worth a kings ransom, has replaced your weathered tunic and trousers you knew you were wearing before. The softest linens you've ever felt in your life gently caress your bare legs.

His hand petting your head snaps you back from your observations. "Why the face?" Astarion murmurs, "did you truly think death would keep you from me? Little love, I can take anything I want. Even from the jaws of death itself." He briefly looks away as he giggles that short, airy sound that used to melt your heart. "Or did you think your heroic brother would, what, break my nail before I ripped out his throat?"

It's enough you try to wrench yourself from his arms again, stopping short of beating your fists against his stupid, fancy white and blue doublet. "You spiteful bastard..." you repeat from your memory as he keeps you held against him with little effort. "I was there with them, my family—"

"Hush, darling, you're not being reasonable," Astarion mutters, his fingers on your back drawing shapes and patterns that you reluctantly admit still soothed you. "I let them have you long enough. I let you play house in that backwater, and now it is time for you to take your place at my side. You were fated to be mine, and mine, you will always be." He explained, as if he was making perfect sense and stating the obvious.

You scoffed, trying again to leverage your hands on the bed, or his lap to put any amount of distance between you and him. "So dying and forcing me back, all reasonable?"

The look in his eyes turned sharp, reminiscent of the way he eyed that spawn. "Well, if you had been where you belonged, none of that would have happened, would it?" He chastised, lulling his head to one side. "I've already cast the insignificant wretch into the kennels. You are welcome to watch her suffer. Perhaps I'll grant her a blessing and allow her to kiss your feet before I peel her lips off her face... Or maybe after..." Astarion trailed off thoughtfully, his eyes up and away a moment as he considered the grotesque torture, as if casually deciding what flavor tea he'll have in the morning. "How comfortable are you with blood between your toes, my dear?"

You were experiencing such emotional turbulence that you momentarily wondered if any of this was actually happening. If he was aware, he paid no mind to it, as another wild thought captivated his mind. "And why did you not tell me you had such a deliciously submissive sister? Honestly, my love, if she can watch me kill your brother, drain your mother and still stare so eagerly at me, why can't you?"

Your heart froze, and you swallowed hard. Unwanted images of what he could have, and probably had done to your family flashed through your mind. As you stilled in his arms, he moved a hand into the air and snapped his fingers. And like a well-trained puppy, in she waltzed, wearing a black simple dress. Expressionless and silent as she stood before you. Watching you with scarlet eyes. "You know I'd never hurt you, of course. But perhaps your sweet sister can model the obedience I expect from you..."

Infinite threats, insults and visions of violence cross your mind, and like he can read them, Astarion gives you a stern, scolding look. From the corner of your eye, you catch a tear rolling down her cheek and it takes everything from you to not jump to embrace her.

Not that Astarion would let you out of his arms to do so. Fear spreads through your body, numbing your limbs and clouding your thoughts. For every outburst, act of defiance, misbehavior, denial of compliance, Astarion will ensure your sister suffers in your place...

"There you are, my treasure..." He cooes, catching a loose lock of your hair and twirling it in his fingers, pleased with whatever he sees in your eyes, "learning already... you're going to be so wonderfully obedient for me, aren't you?"

You turn your head away, down at the bed, never feeling so... small in your life. He grabs your face, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forces your attention back to him, denying your escape. "Aren't you?" He repeats, voice firm, commanding.

Without thinking, you scowl at Astarion, noticing the frosty disappointment in his eyes. He lets out an impatient sigh, as if handling a temperamental child, and then glances behind him. "On your knees, darling, it seems your little sister needs your example already..."

She stiffly collapses to the ground like an anchor to the seafloor and Astarion groans, as if he expected a more graceful motion from her. He starts to rise from the bed and a whimper from your sister has you catching his sleeve. "I'll do it." You force out, inwardly cringing at the implication.

But that's not enough for him. "You will do what, pet?" He says lowly, lazily turning to you.

"Behave..." The word hung in the air, its bitter taste lingering on your tongue, surpassing any foulness you had ever known. Again, you try to look anywhere else, any semblance of escape you can find from this, from him.

Astarion continues to press, his fingers brushing against your cheek, coaxing you to face him, locking eyes. There was a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes, like a flickering flame. "And...?"

"And... I'll be obedient..." Your chest tightens, your lip quivering and Astarion's face lights up with a tender smile.

He resumes his position on the bed in front of you. "Oh, my love, I know you will." Astarion smirks, his arm curling around you, pulling you back into him, his lips feathering yours, teasing before connecting them in a sweet... loving kiss. Just as you remember it, his lips are like a delicate caress, and you know better now than to pull away.

Your lips sync with his in a hypnotic rhythm, and his distinct taste lingers on your tongue - a blend of red wine with a faint metallic undertone. The scent of him surrounds you, a unique blend of rosemary, bergamot, and brandy, unmistakably his. His fangs only barely graze your bottom lip as he guides you down onto your back, maneuvering himself on top of you, "because I'll have eternity to teach you..." Astarion whispers against your mouth like a promise, and you can feel him smile at his own words.

Astarion's lips travel from the corner of your mouth, they leave a trail of soft kisses along your cheek, descending to the spot beneath your ear, until they eventually reach the pulsating artery, echoing the frantic pace of your heart. One last time... "My beloved consort..." He whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your skin, teasing his fangs against your neck, as if trying to be gentle in his own way. "Welcome home..." He purrs.

Then at last, he sinks his fangs deep. Drinking slow, steady gulps. One hand taking yours, interlocking his fingers with it, the other soothingly petting your hair. And at last, as your vision blurs and darkens, your body shivering under his, you start to believe it...

Maybe he does want you after all...

Maybe he's been your home all along...

ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A/N: Honestly, I could probably write this one forever, it was so much fun. The perfectionist in me already spent more time than I should've on this. Two days of neglecting my main fic on ao3? Ugh, take me to the gallows. Apologies to my partner, friends, coworkers, family, dogs... I have a sacred duty to update that sucker at least every other week.

Also, I apologize for the quality of the gif. I make a lot of my own gifs and screenshots for these and tumblr's 10mb limit is going to throttle my sanity until it dies twice over.

[daemour]

Kadō [l.sm]

➵Title: Kadō

➵Pairings: Demeter! Dokyeom x Florist! Reader

➵Greek God: Demeter

➵Genre: Fluff, very light angst

➵Rating/Warnings: T for Teen, No Warnings

➵Word Count: 1333

➵Summary: When the most notorious divorce lawyer in the city becomes a regular at your little flower shop, you're pretty sure it's a bad omen, for both your love life and your store. But with each passing moment, it looks like your flowers are doing better than ever…and perhaps your heart beats just a bit faster seeing Lee Seokmin.

-

This was a collab [The 13 Gods of Olympus] hosted by @beomcoups and @wooahaeproductions <3 it may or may not have been a little close to cutting it at the deadline but I digress KJGSHDKJGHKJG

this is my first true svt piece and I'm honestly kinda proud although I wasn't able to put everything I wanted into it ^^ I hope u all enjoy anyway!

-

It’s the third time he has shown up in your flower shop. Lee Seokmin, the divorce lawyer in town. He’s never lost a custody case, or whatever it is he does. He’s both hated, and loved, by the population.

And he won’t stop coming into your flower shop.

At first, you paid it no mind. Perhaps it was his mother’s birthday. Maybe for a client going through a particularly tough battle. But he never bought anything. Just browsed quietly.

You wouldn’t say you were particularly superstitious, but that has to be bad luck, right? You check your watch. Five minutes before closing. He’s never come in this late before…and this means you have to politely tell him to get out.

“Ah, excuse me?” you call out, voice timid. Silence. He didn’t hear you. “Mr Lee?”

 Okay, now you can’t tell if he’s just ignoring you. You walk up next to him, hands hovering in the air awkwardly as you decide whether to tap his shoulder or not. “Excuse me?” you try again, and he finally snaps his attention to you, a bright smile on his face. He doesn’t look quite as cold as he does in all the news articles.

“Oh, apologies. I didn’t quite hear you. You must be the owner of this store.” He nods his head in acknowledgement.

You offer a small smile, lowering your hands. “I am. I just wanted to let you know that we’re closing in five minutes so…” you trail off, trying not to be rude. “I’m not trying to kick you out! Just wanted to let you know,” you repeat.

Mr Lee smiles even wider, reaching out to offer his hand. “Of course, I understand. I’ll be coming around more often, so I should introduce myself though. I’m Lee Seokmin, and you?”

“I know,” you respond automatically before realising how that sounds. “Ah! Not that I stalk you or anything. I just…pay attention to the news and you tend to make headlines.”

Reaching out to shake his hand, you can’t help but take note of how warm it is. “LN YN. Nice to meet you properly, Mr Lee.”

He shakes his head, eyes crinkling. “None of that. You can call me Seokmin. It’s nice to not be called so formally out of the court…I work in law.”

Seokmin chuckles. “I understand. It’s hard to not know everyone in a smaller town, even if you never actually meet them. But there’s something about your flower shop….it’s very comforting. I like coming here after work, so I think you’ll probably be seeing more of me.”

I smile shyly. “I’ll have to look forward to that, Mr…Seokmin.”

–

Seokmin doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He can’t stop going to that little flower shop on the corner, loving how the owner’s eyes brighten as she sees him. He hasn’t taken notice of a human in centuries…no, millennia.

He’s kept his focus on his human career, wading through papers upon papers of messy moral relationships that remind him a little too much of Persephone. But you're like a breath of fresh air.

As time went on, mortals changed. The amount of flora and fauna decreased, but your shop felt like the Gaia he remembers.

He finds himself in there more and more these days. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees you humming to yourself as you arrange bouquets, and it’s on the days when you’re preparing wedding flowers and humming love songs that he lets his power leak out from the tips of his fingers and toes, and the flowers bloom just a bit brighter, for just a little longer.

It’s hard to keep his feelings subtle, not when you look at him with such gentleness in your eyes and always give him a flower before he leaves. He keeps them all in an unending state of bloom in his bathroom, and Persephone always teases him when she sees them. But he can’t keep himself away, allowing himself one other pleasure in his dreadfully boring life.

All he does is deal with case after case of depressing marriages, his heart breaking every moment he stays in the court. But your shop has given him a breath of fresh air, and he can feel life return to him when he sees your bright aura. His kin cannot fault him for that, and if they try, then he’ll just have to strip humans of their springs and summers again.

–

Glancing at the clock perched on your desk makes your heart race a little faster. You look forward to every visit Seokmin pays you, every shift feeling like a countdown. Right on cue, the bell rings and Seokmin walks into the store, breathing deeply as he takes in the flora. “Hello, YN,” he greets you warmly, voice softer than usual. “How was your day?”

Your eyes crinkle as you smile back, offering him a small nod. “Same as always. Not very busy today, which was nice for me to sit back and relax. How was the office?”

Seokmin shrugs, his eyes unfocusing as he remembers his long day. “It was…eventful. I had a case today and it didn’t go well. I can’t really go into detail.” He sighs through his nose, loosening his tie. Your eyes follow the movement as a pout pulls at your lips.

“Well, that’s not good,” I hum, cocking my head slightly. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

It’s not usually how his visits go, and you’re surprised at yourself for going off-script, but the stress in his eyes makes you want to help. And tea is the only way you can think of.

His gaze softens as he looks at you, some of the tension in his eyes melting away. “I’d love that, YN. Thank you.”

To hide your warm cheeks, you turn around quickly to head into your breakroom. “I hope you like chamomile, Seokmin. It’s the only kind I have left.” Seokmin nods happily, and you turn to raise an eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

It takes him a moment, but as soon as it clicks, Seokmin scrambles after you, a wide smile on his face. The break room is small, but cozy, with plants lining the shelves and homemade mugs sitting in a line on the counter. You quickly put some water in the kettle, letting it do its work as you offer Seokmin a seat. “Sorry it’s not much,” you sigh, looking around. “I haven’t cleaned back here i a bit since it’s usually only me.”

Seokmin shakes his head, sitting on the stool offered to him with a quick flick of his coat. “No worries at all, YN. It’s very lovely here, very relaxing.” His stiff stance betrays him, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“I can see that, with your ramrod-straight back,” you tease, and Seokmin quickly adjusts his posture. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite, and the plants don’t either.”

At your little joke, Seokmin finally lets his body ease as he lets out a loud laugh. “That’s good. I’m not sure what I’ll do if it turns out your plants are maneaters.” He leans forward on the table. “Now, as you’re treating me to a nice cup of tea, I must ask…how would you like to grab dessert with me sometime?” His voice grows soft towards the end. He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous, not even when his daughter leaves for six months and the world turns cold and grey.

You stop your steps midway to the kettle, looking back at him with wide eyes. You don’t want to read too much into it, but the softness in Seokmin’s eyes tells you your hopes aren’t unfounded. “I…I think I’d like that, Seokmin.”

At your words, Seokmin can’t help the bright smile from growing on his face, and the plants in the other room bloom so bright as a warmth fills his heart. Perhaps there is some good with the mortals after all.

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: god of time! San x f! Reader

Word Count: 2113

Warnings: cursing, dub con (it's a planned scenario but only shown to be one at the end so read with caution) (smut warnings under cut)

Genre: smut, rated E for explicit, established relationship au

Summary: Strange things keep happening, and your best friend may know something about it

Smut warnings: fingering, oral (female receiving, male recieving but only like a sentence and implied), unprotected sex (wrap before tap guys🔫), dirty talk, slight begging if you squint, felching (again), cum play, praise, light breast play, dub con, roleplay (they're roleplaying that san is her best friend who takes advantage of her), creampie i think?

I’m only doing a couple of the February Filth Fest, and this is day/track 25! free use/spit play, and i chose the former! this is a pretty heavy fic (dubcon) ad if you don't like it, please click away! while at the end it's mentioned that this is just a scenario, it's not really said outright and it's only at the very end so please!! read with caution!

And this is the last of the FFF i'm writing! i hope you enjoyed the burst of smuts from me and maybe you'll see more in the future ;)

ALSO! as threatened by @sanjoongie...dedicated to her and it's for topaz's eyes only lol /hj

-

A strange taste fills your mouth and you stop mid-sentence, clearing your throat and chugging the rest of your water. Your best friend, San, is watching you with concern on his face. “You good (Y/N)?”

You nod, clearing your throat again and swallowing down the strange bitter taste in your throat. “Uh. Yeah,” you say, smiling at him. “Just got a weird taste in your throat. Probably choked on my spit or something.”

San hums, brushing over the incident, but when he’s left for his apartment and all you have to keep you company is silence, you rush to the bathroom to cough and gargle the familiar taste of come out of your mouth. That has been happening to you for the past few days. You’ll be in the middle of the most mediocre task and in the blink of an eye your mouth or ass is sore and there’s cum dripping somewhere.

You remember the first time it happened like it was yesterday (and to be honest, it was only just the past Saturday). You were just doing your laundry with San playing video games as he usually does since you just ‘have the better router’, when you felt your underwear grow sticky and your legs quiver like when you use your Hitachi in privacy. With a glance at San, you slid into the bathroom and yanked your underwear down, staring for a good moment at the wetness that covered both the cloth and your thighs. There was no mistake about it. You had orgasmed.

You had brushed it off as just some random body thing, but then it happened again. And again. Some days you’d just be having dinner, and on others, you’d just be reading a book and you’ll find yourself ass up and underwear soaked. Every once in a while, you’d even have the taste of come on your tongue.

You swear you’re haunted, but no amount of salt, or incense, or candles kept whatever entity it was from coming and using you in the blink of an eye.

But one day, you were just trying to have a nice shower when this time, when you blinked, you were laying on the ground with come all over your face and your cunt ached and gaped more than you were used to. Tentatively, you pushed two fingers inside you, subconsciously letting out a sigh at the stretch. When you draw them back out, your eyebrows raise at the white, sticky release clinging to your fingers. That was a first, and you hate that you grow wetter at the idea.

This needs to stop.

-

“San, I think I’m being haunted,” you cry, launching yourself into his arms as soon as he opens the door at eleven at night. “I swear I can’t stop it.”

San’s brows furrow the slightest bit. “What do you mean? Why so late?” Even through his confusion, he lets you in and locks the door behind him, a fact you’re eternally grateful for.

“Okay, hear me out. I think a ghost is haunting me and using my body as a toy.” You know you sound like a fool with how San’s expression changes to that of slight amusement. “You don’t have to believe me, but I swear it’s happening!”

With a sigh coming from the depths of his soul, San opens the blanket he had swaddled himself in, and you quickly curl up under his arm. “Do you want to stay here tonight? We can check it out tomorrow.”

You nod as best you can with your face in his warm, sturdy, chest and the two of you waddle your way to his bed. The covers are thrown off haphazardly and you almost feel bad until you remember what happens to you when you’re in your apartment and you let it go.

As you melt into the bed, San throws an arm around you and mumbles in your ear, “You did look pretty good sprawled out in the shower.”

It’s almost embarrassing it takes you a minute to register what he says but your eyes snap open to find San staring at you right in the eyes with a smirk growing on his face. You jerk away from him but you’re tangled in the sheets and you just fall to the ground.

You try again, but this time, something’s off. Your limbs aren’t moving how you want them to…or moving at all. San’s smile only grows wider as he leans over the edge of the bed to stare at you. “Surprise,” he hums, reaching down to pull you back onto the bed like you weigh nothing. “You were just too easy, (Y/N)ie. Running straight to my arms like I’m the one to save you? Pathetic.” He scoffs, his hands wandering down your sides. It would feel ticklish but as much as you try to squirm, nothing happens and his hands keep moving.

With a glint in his eye, his large palm comes to rest on your cunt, still soaked through from what he did to you in the shower. And within a second, he pushes your panties aside and presses his fingers into you, groaning at how loose you are. “It was so fucking easy,” he moans, moving closer to you so his breath fans over your face. You can smell the mint toothpaste and you want to spit in his face, but you can’t. “You don’t even remember anything, right? Just what happens after. But God, now you finally can see exactly what I do.”

His hands slide up your torso, pushing your bra up to play with your nipples. “So pretty and pliant for me,” his lips twist into a smile and he presses a kiss to your slightly open mouth. “God, I’ve waited for this for so long. You never saw the way I looked at so, what was a guy supposed to do? Now I finally have you.”

His breathing becomes laboured as his mouth trails down your neck before nipping at the soft flesh of your breast. You can feel his hard-on pressing into your thigh, twitching and forming a wet patch at the front of his grey sweatpants. San’s hand reaches between your bodies to shove his pants down enough to free his cock, slapping it against your cunt before lining up and pushing in slowly. “Fuck,” he groans, his eyes rolling back in his head at the feeling of your hot pussy swallowing him up. “Just as sloppy and loose as I like it.”

He presses his lips feverishly against your unresponsive mouth, thrusting harshly. Each time he pulls out and slams back in, you can hear every squelch and you want to moan at how his thick cock hits the perfect spot every time. You hate that you love the feeling of him stretching you out and kissing your walls so sweetly. But the worst part is the fact that as much as you can feel every little bit of pleasure he’s serving you, you can’t move an inch to chase your own pleasure. The slow pressure building in your gut stays stagnant and you won’t come, not until you’re free from this prison of time.

San’s still mouthing at your parted lips, his hands wandering around your torso and gripping at your skin. His thrusts have become more erratic, pistoning in and out of you as his cock throbs. “Oh my God,” he groans, high-pitched and almost whining as he comes deep inside of you. With each rope of cum, you can feel it filling you up so well and if you could, you would relax at the end of it. San pants against your lips, his eyes squeezing shut as sweat falls on you.

His hands are still gripping onto your hips like there’s no tomorrow, but his hips come to a still as he jerks once, twice, and the last bits of come spurt out of him.  “God, still so perfect,” San hums, biting at your lower lip. “So much better when you look at me like that. So pretty.”

His hands cup your face and stroke your cheek. He slowly pulls out of you but to your surprise, instead of letting you regain control of your body, he shifts, sliding lower. It takes you a moment to register what’s happening but as soon as his warm breath hits your core it hits.

As he licks a broad stripe up the pool of his come and your slick, you jolt with a gasp, your body finally back to yours. Before you can do anything, struggle, moan, even blink, San sucks harshly at your clit and your hands fly to grip his hair as you half scream half moan. “Shit–” you whine out, voice broken as if you’ve forgotten how to speak. “San– please–”

As a response, his tongue flicks your clit and his grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you even closer to him. “Fuck, taste so good, and you taste even better begging for me.” His voice is so raspy as he mouths his way down to your fluttering hole, shoving his tongue in and working it against your clenching walls.

You squeal, legs jerking but you can’t move too much before they suddenly are still and you lift your head to see San staring right at you as he tastes you. “Isn’t it so much easier that way?” he murmurs into your dripping cunt, eyes burning with desire. “No struggling, just feeling?”

Before you can respond, his teeth scrape against your sensitive bud and the slow build-up of your orgasm finally crashes over you. Your brain goes fuzzy and your vision burns white as you throw your head back onto the mattress and your hands grip his hair so tight you fear you might’ve pulled out some hair. You swear you’ve gone deaf for a few blissful seconds before you come back down from your high and San’s slowed his licks as he groans, sitting up and pressing just the head of his dick into you as he cums again, painting your folds white. Gently, he pushes his come back inside of you around his dick while thrusting shallowly into you, moaning as his come foams up around his fingers. “God, you’re such a fucking dream," San moans, crawling up to meet your tired face and kiss you deep, his tongue working its way into your slack mouth, and you can taste his come on his tongue.

A pause, and he cups your face and presses another, lighter, kiss to your lips. You respond this time, pulling him closer by his shirt collar. “I wasn’t too rough with you, right?” His voice is much smaller now, and your eyes crinkle as you smile at him fondly.

“Of course not. You never are. Sure, I was a bit sore after you used your powers, but hey, that’s what makes it good.” You press a kiss on his cheek. “I’m just happy I got to be with you. I mean, who else can boast they’re dating a god of time?”

San chuckles, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “And I’m lucky to be dating the one and only (Y/N).” He presses another sweet kiss to your temple. “You did so well for me too. Now, let’s get you in the bath and clean you up.”

You chuckle, winding your arms around his neck and kissing his jawline. “Or…we could use another round.”

“Ah, you’re not tired yet? I just used you for a good hour,” San scolds, but you can feel him growing hard against your hip again. “Maybe I should tire you out for real.”

With a smirk, you reach down and palm his growing erection. “Maybe you should,” you start to say, but you’re soon cut off by his lips on yours. He picks you up, making you squeal as he carries you to the connected bathroom. “Aw,” you pout, but San kisses it away and you see the darkness in his eyes.

“Don’t ‘aw’ so soon, baby. If you want a round two, it’d just be easier to do it here,” San teases and your eyes brighten at his implications. “Now be good for me and get on your knees.”

In the blink of an eye, you find yourself already ready in position on the cold tile and heat pools in your core as you smile and open your mouth wide. Your body freezes, but your mind relaxes as you let him slip his half-hard cock into your mouth. There are many perks to dating him, and this is just one of them.

[di-42]

2024 fic roundup

Finally getting round to doing this! Just in time for the end of the year!

Many, many thanks to @curiouspupsicle and @bellisima-writes for tagging me all those weeks ago, ant to @cheeseplants for creating the questions. Enjoy curious's answers here, bellisima's answers here, cheeseplants's answers here.

What fandoms do you write in?

Good Omens, only Good Omens, nothing but Good Omens.

How many words have you published in 2024?

133k. Huh! Me?

What is your greatest achievement this year?

In the context of fandom and fanfiction, being brave enough to put myself out there and share my work is probably my greatest personal achievement. But I'm also quite proud to have plotted an 85k fiction while working 55 hours a week (and being lucky enough to have a husband and friends to spend my free time with).

What are your favourite top three fics you wrote this year?

That's an easy one! None of my favourite three are the ones with more engagement, strangely enough!

And I Did, rated E, 85k.

While I know this could have been written much better, I am incredibly proud of this fiction. It's whole season 3 fiction where I managed to pour all my headcanon in a way that hopefully doesn't feel too forced. I think it has an original plot, good side characters and tension. I tried to throw in some humour wherever possible as well. It features Supreme Archangel Aziraphale and Grand Duke of Hell Crowley. They haven't talked for almost two years. The end of the world is approaching. They are on opposite sides. And they both know neither of them was ever going to make a different choice to the one they made.

Only Ever Meant For Someone Else, rated T, 9k.

My first human AU, wheee! It was so much fun to write! I think writing human AUs allows so much freedom, although one shots and shorter stories can be a bit harder than canon compliant short stories. But I had a chance to explore some versions of the characters that I don't really see in canon, but very much enjoy in fictions, and wanted to try my hand at that. And I liked the result! Written for the Scribbling Vaguely Downwards advent calendar.

Every year, the night before Christmas, taxi driver Aziraphale drives passengers to and from the hospital for charity. On the Christmas morning of 2023 he was ready to go home and rest with a cup of tea, a mince pie, and a book after a long night.

Guess who?

“No, you may not!” Barked the other. Then he started pacing up and down the pavement, rambling to himself. “Anathema’s going to kill me. She’s actually going to kill me! She had to go into labour on fucking Christmas day, just my luck!”

Oh, dear.

“In-into labour?”

The stranger stopped pacing and, yet again, looked at Aziraphale sternly. He joined together the tips of his right thumb and forefinger, and punctuated his next words with a gracious movement of his hand.

“Yeah. It means she’s about to give birth.”

“Does it, now.”

Angel! Angel! They're At It Again! rated M, 5k

I really love this little story of mine. I've been told that it made some readers cry and laugh at the same time, and it doesn't get much better than that.

It's the year 2030. The world never ended. Aziraphale and Crowley are living happily and safely together as a married couple. Everything would be well, if it wasn't that lately Aziraphale has been a bit busy. A bit distracted. Now, Crowley can't have that, can he? He seeks the advice of his girlfriends, who unwittingly give him an idea on how to liven up his marriage.

A fluffy story about how we get to a certain cottage.

What was your biggest pit of despair moment?

Tying up all the loose ends in And I Did. Sometimes it felt like I was just hitting a wall and I couldn't possibly ever go through. I felt so embarrassed -mortified, really- that some people had read the story up to a certain point and I had just to let them down, because I couldn't possibly write anything that would make sense with the rest of the story. Even though the main points were planned from the beginning, there were still all those little details that write themselves, basically, and I had no idea what to do with some of them towards the end. I still don't know how I managed to pull it off, honestly, but somehow I did it in a way that I found satisfying enough.

What have you learned?

That people are so much better than I am. Really. And I don't mean at writing fiction. Well, people are better than me at writing fiction, but that's not what I mean here. The amount of people who are ready to read about someone else's ideas and headcanons with an open mind, enjoy stories that they don't necessarily agree with, is astounding. I have very much to learn from this community.

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground?

I could tell you. But then I would have to erase your memory.

A fiction that has never made it off the ground is a fiction that has yet to make it off the ground.

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out?

I was asked a couple of times, but due partly to my lack of time, partly to English not being my first language, I had to reluctantly decline. I do offer my thoughts on my betas' fictions, though. One of them hasn't published her work yet, and the other has a fantastic one shot on Ao3, called The Corset.

Aziraphale never understood just why he had been issued with a body likes his. He was the Guardian of the Eastgate, after all! So when in the 17th century corsets for men were fashionable again, he had an idea ...

What three fics have you read this year that you love?

Hah! We both know it's not going to be only three, don't we?

Some of these fics were written before, some long before, 2024, but I only read them this year. It's quite hard to pick my favourites among so much talent and creativity, but I'll do my best. I also can't help but notice that my all time favourites are not among the superpopular ones, so please don't be shy and check them out! (And leave kudos and comments!)

The Beginning Of The End (Again), rated M, 78k.

Season 3 fiction full of plot, great characterisation, humour and pining. It has of course a happy ending. It is beyond me how this fic didn't get more engagement, especially when it first came out, closer to the end of season 2.

The Anon Before Christmas, rated E, 66k.

One of my favourite human AUs. The characterisation is spot on and the slow burn is just absolutely perfect. But I did love the whole array of characters surrounding Crowley and Aziraphale. I love how this story is as much about friendship and chosen family than it is about love and romance.

The Bookseller And The Garden, rated T, 13k.

Canon divergent fiction where Crowley is a demon stationed on earth, Aziraphale is an angel stationed on earth, but they have never met until present day. There's no end of the world in sight, only an angel and a demon falling in love and not knowing how to break it to the other that they're not human. I laughed all the way through.

Wrong Turn, rated T, 37k.

Honestly, I don't know why this fiction touched me so much. I just couldn't stop thinking about it for days after I finished it. It's a post season 1 fiction where Crowley suddenly finds himself in a parallel universe at the time the apocalypse is just about to happen. The Crowley and Aziraphale in that universe have a different history to our Crowley and Aziraphale. All our Crowley wants to do is to go back to his universe and his very own angel, but how? As you follow the main plot and focus on Crowley's thoughts and actions, you'll start slowly feeling the other story get hold of you, and it won't let go until the very end and beyond.

Happiness, More Or Less, rated M, 21k

This human AU moved me so very much I cried. Crowley moves into his new flat in Soho, only to discover the flat in haunted by the ghost of the owner of the bookshop downstairs. I won't tell anything else about the plot other than it does have a very sweet happy ending, and it gets there via a rollercoaster of emotions. This is really one of those fictions that leave me in awe of the fandom's talent and creativity. Read it, read it, read it!

One last one that I haven't finished reading yet, but I know it's one of my all time favourites, is The Last Angel, rated E, 162k.

Canon divergent fiction where Crowley and Aziraphale were never assigned to earth, Armageddon happened and hell won the war. I've said many things about this fiction, among which that I can't believe the writer does this in her spare time and writing is not actually her job, and this is the most Good Omens-y fic I have ever read. It's astoundingly good.

What ideas are percolating for next year?

Watch out for The Angel Horror Show! When I learned that Peter Hinwood, the actor who played Rocky in The Rocky Horror Picture Show didn't have a long career as an actor, bout instead went on to become an antiques dealer, I knew I had to write this fiction with Aziraphale as the actor who many years ago played Angel/Rocky in The Angel Horror Show and subsequent film The Angel Horror Picture Show and is now living a comfortable life as a book and antiques dealer, and Crowley as the actor who played Demon/Frank, and went on to become a successful movie and theatre actor and director. I've just started writing it and I'm extremely excited about it!

Who do you want to thank?

Without the shadow of a doubt @sabine-smitten-obviously and IneffableShortCake who have been so incredibly generous with their time and support in the past 8 months! But also everyone who's ever left me a comment making me feel like my stories were liked, from the long comments to the ones with just enthusiastic syllables, from the incredibly witty ones to the more personal ones, thank you, thank you, thank you!

Tag, answer any Qs that suit and play along!

I think because I'm so late in the game that most of the writers I would usually tag have already been tagged by someone else, but perhaps a few haven't done this yet.

@smua70 @ngk-668 @ineffable-duck7

And anyone who wants to answer!

This was fun!

[rhamrhanch]

Shepherd of Death, Don't Herd Me

Part Eight: Fire to the Flame

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort

A/N: sorry this took forever, hope you all enjoy! now I can finally watch the arcane finale YIPPEE

chapter under the cut ↓

---

You stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide open and not any closer to the blissful numbness that your body craved so desperately. Fatigue sat heavy in your bones, pinning down your limbs until they became one with the firm cotton of your mattress.

While your body was worn and weary, your mind was racing, a living tempest beating against your skull. Ramattra’s words, deep and cavernous, echoed in your mind.

Sleep.

It seemed antithetical to his existence that his voice could sound so soft, gentler than you had ever heard it in its command. Its warmth was even more pronounced, and for that moment part of you understood how someone could be drawn to his cause. If not for his words, powerful in their fierce resolve, his voice held enough gravitas that surely some were entranced by it alone.

You pressed the back of your hand to your forehead, as though trying to smooth away the thoughts you had pushed to the far corners of your mind that now stood to consume you.

Something had changed. You weren’t sure what it was, or when exactly it had happened, but you knew that something was different. It was like the veil of hostility between you had lifted, and you could finally see Ramattra as he was, what shape he took without so many outside forces pressing down on him.

Everything he did was calculated. Words were used as throughways to information, not as a means for conversation. His countenance was still as standing water, his true thoughts hidden beneath the surface while he stood above it all—a quality that you had to admit you envied, as frustrating as it was for you at times. But there had been moments when the dam broke, and you would find yourself drowning in the cognitive dissonance of it all.

When he had hidden you from Talon soldiers, his arms circling your waist in a protective ring.

When he had allowed you the opening move in your first game of chess with him, and every game thereafter, despite knowing full well how much faster it would end were it the other way around.

And, most fresh in your memory, when he had met your determined declaration of inevitable victory against him by laughing—laughing!—in your face.

It should not have surprised you as much as it did. Plenty of times had you heard him laugh, but they all paled in comparison to what you heard then.

It reverberated from his chest, rich and mirthful in its robotic timbre. A laughter so rare that it filled whoever heard it with the overwhelming desire to hear it again and again.

You may not have liked him very much, but you were at least honest enough with yourself to admit that you really, really liked his laugh. As your eyelids drifted shut, you wondered what you could say that you may hear it again.

A sharp ping from your pager rang out in the silence, waking you much earlier than you would have liked. You ignored it, rolling back over. It was probably just another repair request, no need to answer it immediately.

To your misfortune, it pinged again, and again, each one even louder than the last. Groaning, you dragged your pillow over your face and pressed down, hoping to muffle the sound, but it was no use. You threw your pillow to the foot of the bed and angled the pager toward you, squinting at the message that appeared.

From: Winston. New assignment, report to the hangar ASAP.

You shot upright, flinging the covers aside. Damn, you were already late. You snatched your coveralls from the chair you’d thrown them over and yanked them on, all thought of the Ravager forgotten as you rushed out the door.

---

A few hours later, you were back in your workshop, gripping the edge of your worktable so tight that your hands trembled. Bits and pieces of the briefing you'd received surfaced from the fog of anger clouding your mind as you stared at the lifeless omnic in front of you.

His head and eyes were obscured by a device which could only have crawled out from your nightmares. Cylindrical rods jutted out from it like spikes, like the shell of some creature warning all those who came near to stay away.

You sucked in a sharp breath, letting it out gradually before gently taking the omnic’s head between your hands. With practiced grace, you rotated it slowly, inspecting the device closely. Whatever purpose it had been designed for was a mystery to you, but the condition it left its wearer in made you less than optimistic.

You tilted the omnic's chin up, barely revealing the dim glow of his LEDs beneath the shrouding metal—a somewhat good sign, though you felt little joy at its discovery. Carefully, you released him. He did not respond, head limp as it dropped back down.

Toronto. That was where he had been found. You tried to imagine it then, what it must have been like to see airships roam the sky, deploying Nulltroopers by the hundreds as one loud voice called out above the chaos.

This is not war. This is liberation.

If this was liberation, then it bastardized the word. Its meaning had been warped and distorted into something unrecognizable.

So much time had passed, so used to seeing Ramattra had you become, that you let yourself forget. Forget who he was, and why he was here. Why he was kept under lock and key, always under a watchful eye. Now, as if punishment for your ambivalence, you were forced to see the proof of who he was with your own eyes.

Even still, you were being spared. The omnic on your worktable was only one out of hundreds. So many more had been taken, an even larger number abandoned in the streets. All with their agency, their very being having been ripped from them in an instant like their lives and souls meant nothing.

And all the while you had been here, devoting your time and your empathy to the one responsible for it.

The shame of it all was going to burn you from the inside.

With one harsh motion, you shoved off the worktable, grabbing a cable and plugging one end into a port on the back of the omnic's neck and the other into the tower under your desk. You had been sulking long enough—there was work to do.

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you watched the monitor flicker to life, eyes scanning the ribbons of graphs as they oscillated on the screen.

All except one.

He was still alive, of that you were certain. But the line that represented CPU activity plateaued, cutting into your eyes like a wire. You knew from the flicker of his LEDs that the omnic was awake as well, though perhaps not fully cognizant of the condition he was in. Even so, that line should have been fluctuating, yet it remained unmoving, as clear an indicator as any that the omnic was little more than a husk of his former self.

For the rest of the day, you toiled in your workshop, running diagnostic test after diagnostic test and hoping, praying to see any change in the omnic's neural activity.

A day turned into two, and then to three, and by the fourth day of no change you had gotten deep into the habit of breaking things just to release some of the tension. Old scrap, broken projects, anything you could get your hands on, you would disassemble and then reassemble until your fingertips were sore, as if trying to prove to yourself that you still had the ability to fix something.

But eventually, that too ceased to bring any satisfaction, and you found yourself sitting with your head in your hands, an empty numbness overtaking your entire body as you stared blankly at the scattered notes on your worktable. Realization crept up your back as you felt a disbelieving laugh threaten to burst from your throat.

Trying to fix something like this was the ultimate catch twenty-two. You couldn't deduce the purpose of the device without removing it, and you couldn't remove it without risking the life of the omnic. No wonder Torbjörn had passed the buck to you for this. You wouldn't want this job either.

The fleeting urge to laugh at your circumstances dissolved as a familiar ache settled in your chest.

What if you couldn't do it? If even Torbjörn, a man who had decades of engineering experience on you, dared not to try, how could you possibly measure up? No amount of skill gave you the ability to conjure miracles out of thin air.

You almost resented it now, the amount of faith that your fellow agents put in you. How much your skill was esteemed, without even knowing how you had honed it.

All you had promised was that you would try your best. Your senior engineer had thanked you with a grateful smile, wishing you luck.

Don't thank me, you wanted to say. Please don't.

The thought made you recall the first conversation you had with Winston, when you had been on the cusp of joining Overwatch. He had wanted to discuss your previous work, mentioning a dissertation you had written long ago when you were still a fledgling engineer in your field. Something about simulated neuromodulation in robotics—you couldn't quite remember, as you hated reading your old work.

Inspired, you remembered him calling it. Ahead of its time.

Recalling the words now made you cringe. Your optimism when you had published that paper was blinding back then, leading you down a path that you took too long to realize led to nothing but despair. And now, because of the decision you made to shed your past life, you found yourself here, at the precipice of an indescribably important task and unable to do anything about it.

If only you knew the device's purpose, then maybe you could have an idea of where to start, some inkling of what to do. But the thought of even speaking to its creator made you feel ill, a mixture of disappointment and guilt and anger rising to your tongue like bile. Your failure at being able to solve this problem on your own made you feel useless enough; you did not need to rub any more salt into the wound by begging for help.

You did not sleep, staying up all hours of the night with your head on your desk as you waited for the tests to take their toll, watching the lines flicker on the screen and knowing that they would be the same as they always were.

You heard that same voice that once warmed you with its kindness urge you to rest. Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you banished it from your mind, refusing to indulge in something you did not deserve. You would not stop working, not while the fate of this omnic rested on your shoulders.

Hearing a signal from your computer, you lifted your head from where it rested in the crook of your elbow, feeling a familiar burn in your eyes as you stared at the monitor for what felt like the hundredth time. Today was the fifth day you had slouched over this table, monitoring the omnic for any sign of change, only to see nothing.

Hot tears of frustration sprung to your eyes as you gazed at the omnic on your worktable, motionless as he had been since the day he was brought to you. There would be no sixth, you decided then. Tomorrow, you would tell Winston that there was nothing more you could do.

Reaching forward, you took the omnic's hand in your own, realizing that you did not even know his name. You wondered to yourself what kind of person he had been before all of this happened to him.

Did he have a job? Any hobbies, a favorite song?

Did he have a family, someone waiting for him to return?

Your heart began to beat faster as the last question weighed in your mind. How could you give up on him, without knowing whether there were people out there who still needed him? What gave you the right to decide that, when there was still one last thing you had not tried?

Gently, you placed his hand atop his chest, before sitting up from your chair and throwing open the door of your workshop. You refused to let your pride stand in the way of helping someone who needed it.

---

Ramattra lifted his head immediately at the sound of footsteps, having heard their specific rhythm enough times to recognize who they belonged to.

He felt his body warm slightly at the expectation of your arrival. When you had not returned like you promised, Ramattra had initially thought nothing of it. You had other duties to attend to, and he welcomed the quiet solemnity that solitude offered him.

But when almost a week had passed and you still had not come, he had realized how much he had come to look forward to your visits, and how noticeable your absence now was to him. With you came the knowledge that for at least a few hours he would have something else to focus on besides the dull and colorless walls of the room, an element of his imprisonment that he was growing more and more weary of.

It was with this expectation that his internal fans began to circulate, his processor running wild to compute the possibilities of what you might do today. But when he finally caught sight of you across the hall, you were not wearing the expression he had grown accustomed to seeing.

Your eyes were dull, the shadows beneath it having grown darker since he saw you last. Clearly, you had not taken his suggestion to heart. But as tired as you seemed, there was a quickness to your stride that could only have come from determination.

The keypad outside the door beeped in rapid succession and then you were entering, something he couldn't quite identify clutched in your hand. Ramattra stood instantly as you came to a stop in front of him.

"You need to come with me," you said, and then your hands were around his wrists without warning. There was an urgency to your motions that was a far cry from the care with which you touched his wrist before, and he instinctively pulled away, finally seeing what exactly it was that you had brought with you.

Handcuffs.

"What is the meaning of this?" he growled, and you sighed as if frustrated.

"I'll explain it to you later, but right now I need you to—" You reached for his hand again, but he snatched it away.

"I will not be kept in restraints—"

"Winston won't let you leave this room without them," you said through grit teeth. "Just let me put them on." A moment passed, and then, "Please."

Ramattra analyzed your face, searching for signs of deception. Finding none, he let his processor run through the possibilities that your words implied.

Silently, he stepped closer to you, holding his hands slightly away from his body. You slid the restraints over his wrist, and he grunted as the bolts snapped into place. Immediately, he felt his body grow lethargic, as if it suddenly lost the strength to hold itself up properly. He lifted his arms slightly, actuators feeling like they were moving through tar with the movement. Electromagnetic handcuffs, he realized. That ape was smarter than he gave him credit for.

Ramattra had no choice but to follow you as you grasped his elbow, leading him away from the conference room. Though his body was weakened, his system remained unburdened, and he took every opportunity he had to memorize his surroundings, storing them away for future reference. As you proceeded further into the base, though, the halls became more familiar, and he soon realized where exactly you were taking him.

Your workshop was a mess compared to the last time he seen it, scattered papers and miscellaneous scrap covering every surface. When he saw the omnic you had sprawled on your worktable, one of his subjugators on their head and a wire at their neck, alarm sparked through his system. He tried to reach for them, only for his hands to strain against the cuffs, pulling a noise of frustration from his vocalizer.

"What have you done?" he asked, unable to mask the urgency in his voice.

You paused, as if surprised by his reaction, before your brow furrowed. "Nothing yet. Not until you tell me what this is for," you said, before pointing at the subjugator.

His optics flicked from the omnic back to you. "You cannot remove it," he said, not willing to disclose any further.

You held firm, crossing your arms over your chest as you fixed him with an inquisitive gaze. "Why not? Surely now that you are confined to this place, you have no need for soldiers."

"Soldiers?" His head tilted in confusion. "They are not soldiers."

Your shoulders slackened, meeting his confusion with your own. "They aren't? Then why… why would you do this?” Hands falling to your sides, you had a pained look on your face that he had not seen before. “How could you do this to other omnics, your own kind—"

Ramattra caught the waver in your tone, but it did not sway him. "All I have ever done, I have done for the sake of my people. This is a necessary measure, to keep them safe—"

"Safe?" you interrupted, eyes wide with disbelief. "You must be joking."

Irritation ignited in his processor. "I am not."

You seemed to have abandoned your earlier attempt to appeal to him as you stepped forward, eyes piercing daggers through his chassis. "How does robbing them of choice keep them safe? How does suppressing their entire being keep them safe?"

The logical part of his mind knew you would not understand, knew that this conversation would do nothing but unearth a deep bitterness that roiled inside him like thunder, yet still words rose in his vocalizer, a desperate desire for just one person to see things the way he did.

"Would you let your kind walk freely if it meant they were walking into fire?" he snapped. "Too many of my people would rather throw their lives away protecting the very humans that call for our destruction than dare to raise a hand against them.” His hands fought against the restraints as he spoke, feeling the familiar burn in his processor as his buried rage clawed its way to the surface. “I have chosen to walk the latter path, but I will not allow my people to put themselves in danger by standing in my way."

"But it’s a danger of your own creation!" Your voice was rising now, but Ramattra did not falter.

"It is a necessary endeavor I must take to ensure the survival of my people," he said, fighting to keep his voice measured as frustration at your refusal to understand began building in his processor. "Without being threatened, humanity has no motivation to ever treat us fairly. Omnics will forever remain second-class citizens, relics of the war to be whittled down until there are none of us left. If my people refuse to recognize that, then I must make them—"

"You have no right to decide that!" you shouted. "Their freedom is not yours for the taking! To so callously rid them of their autonomy, treating them with little more dignity than as a means to an end—" You stopped as you took a breath, punching out your next words with venom.

“It’s cruel!"

Ramattra stilled. Cruel? What could you possibly know of the word? As far as he was concerned, no human had the right to use that word against him, not after everything he bore witness to in his life.

Slowly, he walked forward, drawing close enough to you that his chest nearly touched yours. He angled his head over you, looking down at you silently. You remained as still as a statue, only tilting your head up to meet his gaze dead on.

Good. He wanted to see the look in your eyes when he said this.

"Do you know how many omnics there were after the war?" he growled, the sound sitting low in his vocalizer. Your gaze faltered slightly, and you clenched your jaw, but you did not answer.

"Do you know how many have died since then?"

Again, you had no answer, so he answered for you.

"One tenth," he said. "In less than thirty years, one tenth of all the omnics who have ever existed and will ever exist are now gone, forever. Just a single generation, and we have been decimated permanently.”

He watched the defiant fire in your eyes flicker out as his words sunk in, but still you did not look away.

“If you want to call me cruel, do not ever forget again why I have been forced to be.”

Silence hung between you for a moment, and he felt a lick of satisfaction at your apparent speechlessness. But it did not last long.

"If you do not let them decide for themselves if they want to fight," you said, your voice eerily calm, "how does that make you any different from Anubis?"

Something jolted in Ramattra's processor, a pointed memory that he had suppressed when the pain of remembering became too strong. An argument, just like this one, with friends long gone.

“I refuse to aid you in undoing all that I have worked for,” he said eventually, turning away from your gaze.

"Fine." You snagged the bridge between his cuffs. "Have it your way. I will do this on my own."

---

You sat against the wall in the hangar, your knees pulled up and your face buried in your arms. Now late in the evening, the blazing anger from your argument with Ramattra had flickered out, leaving you only with the sad reality of what you were now faced with. Having burned a bridge with the only potential lead you had, you were back where you began.

The worst part was that you could not convince yourself to hate him. You wanted to, so badly you wanted to, but after hearing everything he said, you could not fault him for how he felt. He was right, and the reality of it had slapped you in the face.

You had no idea what it had been like for omnics after the war. You had no memories of your own of the Crisis, only what it had felt like to live in the aftermath. Whatever you felt could never compare to the weight of experience that belonged to those who had existed since the beginning.

How many times had your hands swept over the broken bodies of omnics, your own undoing the imprints of hatred left behind by your fellow humans? How many times had you felt the urge to scream from the rooftops, your demands for others to look at the world around them repeatedly ignored?

Your own bitterness and frustration had led you to make choices you now regretted, and you were only human. What must it have been like for Ramattra, for all the omnics, to suddenly awaken from some horrible dream only to be met with hatred and violence for things they had no memory of doing?

You jumped at the sound of grinding metal as the garage doors of the hanger opened slowly, splitting from the middle as the anodized white of the ship’s hull peeked through. Wind from the ship’s landing gear whipped your collar around your neck as you approached it. The hangar closed behind it with a loud slam, echoing around the walls as the main door opened outward. Two figures exited, and you lifted a hand in greeting.

"Genji!" you said upon recognizing the neon green of his armor. "You're back!"

His head darted up, as though surprised to see you. "Oh, hello. I apologize, I did not realize you were waiting for us."

Us? "No, I was just nearby—" you began to say, before finally realizing who was standing beside him. Or floating, rather.

Your eyes flickered between Genji and the unfamiliar omnic before recognition sparked in your memory. "Oh, you must be Zenyatta!" you said, feeling slightly embarrassed at your rudeness and holding your hand out. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

The omnic bent his head down in greeting before taking your extended hand. "Hello. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. Genji has spoken about you often." You straightened up, clasping your hands in front of you as you struggled to think of something to say. "Have you come to join Overwatch as well?"

"No, that is not the nature of my visit," he replied calmly, his voice smooth and tempered. "Genji informed me that my presence here was needed. For what purpose, I have yet to find out."

"I see," you said, looking down awkwardly. "Well then, I won't keep you." You moved to leave, only to stop when Zenyatta spoke again.

“My student has told me that you are quite an engineer. Would you be willing to have a look at my shoulder?” He placed a hand over it, rotating it a bit too stiffly for an omnic. “Perhaps one of my servos has locked up.”

"Oh," you said softly, haphazardly looking back in the direction of your workshop. "I suppose, but I really should be getting back to—”

“Wonderful!” the monk interrupted, placing a hand on your back and leading you in the direction that was not where your workshop was. You spared a questioning glance over your shoulder at Genji, but he only shrugged.

Soon you found yourself in the base’s common area, resting your elbows on the island as you watched Zenyatta leisurely float about the kitchen as he prepared tea. How he even knew where the kitchen was you had no idea, but you had no reason to complain.

After a moment, he set a ceramic cup in front of you. You brought it close, letting the curling steam warm your face for a moment.

“I thought you wanted me to check your shoulder,” you said, turning in your chair to face the omnic as he came to hover beside you.

"During my travels I have found that sharing a cup of tea creates a pleasant environment for conversation," he said, clasping his hands in front of him. “It’s good for an omnic to get to know his mechanic, don’t you think?”

You smiled softly, already endeared to this somewhat mystifying monk. One hand beneath your cup, you lifted it to your lips, feeling warmth spread throughout your body. The tea was sharp and bitter, but it gave way to a cooling aftertaste that loosened the tension in your shoulders immediately. For someone with no sense of smell or taste, Zenyatta made an excellent cup of tea.

"This blend is lovely," you said. "Where did you find it?"

"At a village apothecary in Huangshan," he answered. “That is where I was when Genji contacted me. The locals recommended it as a good visiting gift.”

"Isn’t the monastery in Nepal?" you asked, taking another sip. "That seems quite a distance to go just for tea."

Zenyatta’s chin tilted downward, and for a moment your heart leaped, fearing you had offended him.

“I have not been to the monastery for some time now. I sought my own path and have been travelling the world in the years since I met Genji.”

You set your cup down, sitting with rapt attention at Zenyatta’s words. “I see. What inspired your travels, if you don’t mind my asking?”

"A great many things,” he said. “But the idea had first come to me from a brother of mine, another monk of the Shambali, long ago."

“Really?”

He nodded. "Yes. He had grown dissatisfied with the teachings of the Shambali and wanted to search for a method toward peace for our people outside of the monastery. Back then, he had asked me to accompany him, but I declined.”

“Did you ever regret it?” The question slipped from your mouth before you could think, and you immediately kicked yourself internally. But Zenyatta only hummed in thought, his spheres chiming as they rotated around him.

“At the time, I felt I had more to learn at the monastery, that perhaps there was something he had not seen that I had yet to know. It was one of the points of disagreement between us, but he did not try to convince me to go, and I did not try to convince him to stay.”

“One of?” you asked, your voice curious. Perhaps your own ignorance was to blame, but you never imagined two members of the same monastic order could be that different. “Did you disagree often?”

"Sometimes. But our bond did not suffer for it. We both shared the same goal, so disagreements were only another way to understand each other. At least, we used to." There was something almost sorrowful in Zenyatta’s tone, hardly noticeable if you were not paying such close attention. "I often wonder what would have become of him, had I taken his offer from the beginning. But the past is a mirror that distorts the memory. I can only look toward the future now to guide me."

You looked down at the tea in your cup, seeing your own face reflected back at you. "Do you still believe people very different from each other can get along?"

Zenyatta tilted his head at you. For a moment, the gesture reminded you of Ramattra, but the feeling was fleeting. "Is there someone in particular you are thinking of?"

You felt a shiver run down your back at how incredibly astute he was. It took only one sentence for him to instantly pinpoint the true intent behind your question.

Your first instinct was to say no. You hardly knew Zenyatta, had only just begun speaking to him less than an hour ago. Yet you felt a strange familiarity with him, like you had met before somehow. Perhaps this was just the way all monks were—somewhat omniscient and easy to talk to. Something you needed right now.

"Yes,” you answered after a moment. “I want—need—to work together with him for something important, but we just… can’t seem to find common ground.” You sighed, feeling a dull pain in your chest at the memory.

“When two people feel passionate about something, it is usually because they care very deeply about it,” Zenyatta said. “Perhaps it would be fruitful to think about the ways in which your goals align.”

You leaned back in your chair, humming contemplatively. It would probably be good advice for someone in any other situation besides yours. Though, at this point, what did you have to lose?

"Maybe you’re right,” you acquiesced. “But I find it difficult to imagine how I could share any goals with the leader of Null Sector—"

The chiming stopped, and you paused, looking back to Zenyatta only to see that his spheres had frozen in place.

You were about to ask him what was wrong when he leaned forward, his voice earnest as he asked, “Ramattra? Ramattra is here?”

[pink-tea]

THE SUB TXT AGENDA IS SO DRY!! i need to know about how txt with a noona partner so bad 💔

sorry for how late this ended up being! school haunts everybody at some point, but i wanted to say hello and thanks for being my first ask!! i was so excited to see this because literally all of txt would crumple at the hands of an older woman. i hope this was ok cause writing for all 5 for the first time was a little intimidating- <3

☆minors dni

☆ rating: 18+, nsfw

☆ warnings: dom! reader, sub! txt, older! reader, yeonjun: wall sex, soobin: consensual(?) slut shaming, implied thigh riding, beomgyu: riding, hair pulling, minor choking, taehyun: dry humping, hueningkai: little bit of a sexual crisis, comfort

yeonjun

ღ when it comes to having an older partner, i don't think it would be that obvious for yeonjun in the sense that he's mature enough to keep up

ღ the two of you would feel like a really put together couple, just cause even with his astounding amounts of energy, yeonjun isn't as immature as he may seem

ღ however, his partner would have the ability to reign him in a sense

ღ those times where the members tease him to the point where his brows furrow and his lips jut out into a pout, that's where you step in

ღ a small rub of your thumb on the back of his hand or on his shoulder, smiling softly before pressing a finger gently on the crease between his brows ("you'll get wrinkles")

ღ yeonjun's old enough to where he knows how to take care of himself and act like the oldest, but it's those times where he wants to feel cared for that make him adore his noona

ღ especially in the bedroom, where you have all the power over txt's oldest member

ღ pinning him to wall because he just couldn't wait for you to toss him on the bed, his whines and mewls reaching your ears as you kiss and suck at his neck

ღ in my hierarchy of who's the type to say "noona" in the bedroom, yeonjun comes in at solid number 2

ღ "noona please, i need more," he's pleading with you, gasping as you grab one of his legs to hike up on your waist, pressing him further against the cold wall of your apartment

ღ "more? my yeonjun thinks he deserves more for how hard he worked today, needs a de-stresser before he has to stay away from his noona again?" you hum, yeonjun's arms coming to wrap around your shoulders

ღ he tugs you closer to him, nodding into your shoulder as he desperately grinds his hips up into yours

ღ "i'm gonna miss you so much tomorrow, i want to be with you now," he admits softly, his words melting down any intention of being mean to him into a giant gooey puddle

ღ "yeah?" you ask, dropping yeonjun's leg in favor of sliding a hand down to palm at him through his jeans, your other grabbing at his wrists to hold over his head

ღ he likes the way you make him feel cared for in both his emotional and sexual needs, he doesn't have to always keep it together because his noona will be there to fix it for him and tell him how good of a job he did trying

ღ so now, head thrown back, with his wrists pinned above his head and tears threatening to slip cause he just wants to be inside of you soo bad, yeonjun feels the most at bliss (at your mercy)

ღ "guess i'll just have to make sure your body remembers me while you're gone," you smile, swallowing his moans with a kiss as your hand slips in underneath his pants

soobin

ღ if someone asked me to declare only one member in txt as a sub, it would be soobin

ღ if someone asked me who would use the word "noona" the most in the bedroom, it would be soobin

ღ he's so big and tall that it's just a little comical that he isn't the one taking control of your relationship, but we all know that it just fits his nature so well

ღ his dynamic with yeonjun makes me think of him being cheeky with his older partner, teasing and appealing with his cute side (cause lord knows how embarrassing it is when he purposefully tries to appeal with his sexy side)

ღ but my thing is that he probably messes up on accident, making you have to punish him while he tears up and swears to you "no no i didn't mean it!"

ღ "what? you didn't mean to give those "fuck me" eyes to everyone? are you sure? cause maybe you just like seducing older women with how easy you are," you mock, looking down at soobin from the cushioned chair he's currently sitting on

ღ he looks so guilty, his eyes are so big and watery and he just looks so panicked

ღ it's good that you know how much he loves to beg for it

ღ "noona, no, i promise, i wasn't trying to make you mad!" he cries, leaning forward in an attempt to reach you

ღ "you weren't trying to make me mad? but you still knew you were doing something wrong, didn't you?" you huff, watching the gears in soobin's head desperately try to figure out what to do

ღ you grab his chin before he can figure out what to say, putting pressure on the sides of his face as you grab him

ღ "you know i don't like being mad at you, but i didn't plan on having to deal with you telling everybody how much you'd love to spread your legs open for them," you scold him, knowing damn well that all he did was give people his natural puppy eyed look, you were just possessive

ღ but he loves it, doing his best to shake his head in your hand

ღ "nonono, i'm yours, i'd only open my legs for noona!" he insists, tears finally starting to slip down and land in your palm

ღ "is that so?" you coo, watching him nod and look up at you oh so desperately

ღ you force his legs open with yours, sneaking your thigh to press right up against his already noticeable arousal

ღ "then show noona how good you can get off with just her thigh," you smile prettily, forcing a high pitched whine from the man's throat

beomgyu

ღ acts on the age difference as much as possible

ღ constantly teasing you, playing up his childish nature to a point that sometimes it gives you headaches

ღ prone to falling into sub space, just wanting you to take care of him, tell him that he’s perfect, that he’s all you’ve ever wanted

ღ as his noona you take care of him and make him feel safe, you have the ability to take the power from him when he just can’t handle it, and because of that he trusts you with his heart more than himself

ღ however, this also means that you have to punish him when he misbehaves

ღ beomgyu who flutters his lashes and pouts his lips at other people, making their eyes wander and their words get stuck in their throat as he shamelessly flirts with them in front of you

ღ if beomgyu wanted your attention, he could've just asked for it, but now he has to learn the hard way that your attention doesn't come without consequences when he misbehaves

ღ "fuck! fuck, noona, please! please i'll behave now, i'll be good," he cries, borderline screaming as you gyrate your hips down into his

ღ "that's the thing, pretty boy," you sigh, reaching to grab fistfuls of beomgyu's hair as you ride him relentlessly, cruelly

ღ "you need to learn to listen the first time i tell you to do something," you tut, yanking the man's head back to expose his prominent adam's apple

ღ he sobs at the motion, palms grabbing and clawing at your hips as you chase your own pleasure on his dripping cock

ღ he's lost how many times he's cum now, all he knows is that it hurts, but fuck it hurts so good

ღ "so since you don't want to listen to me after the second time, or the third, or even the seventh," you hiss, slowing your speed in order to fuck him slow and hard

ღ beomgyu's squirming in your hold, gasping and whining as your warm cunt swallows him in and holds him, a punishment disguised as heaven

ღ "then maybe i just have to fuck you so dumb that you won't make the same mistake after the seventh, maybe even tenth orgasm, you understand?" you ask, placing open mouth kisses along his throat as his nails claw at your back

ღ you take a hand from his hair to place it right under his chin, lightly grabbing his throat and pushing his head back into the mattress, forcing his eyes to snap open as they stare up at you all glossy and fucked out

ღ "do you understand?" you repeated, beomgyu shakily trying to nod in your hold

ღ "yes noona, yes!" he groans, feeling his nth orgasm climb up on him as you use the grip on his throat and hair for leverage

ღ his noona has to know when to take charge and let him know that he can't just do whatever he wants, while still making sure that he knows just how much he's loved (even if you have to punish him) <3

taehyun

ღ ahhh so difficult! honestly i didn't think age would matter too much when it came to a relationship with taehyun, but then i remembered him and yeonjun's dynamic

ღ so cute, god he's so so so cute

ღ he's not the type to call you noona in bed as much, but when you two are walking around, window shopping and tasting whatever sweet treat is sold by vendors, he loves to use it

ღ you don't mind it either, even if it does mean your wallet gets lighter and lighter every time taehyun looks at you with eager eyes and a cheery smile

ღ it feels like taehyun lets himself be relaxed, just a little more childish around you

ღ you just adore him, which is why he melts into your palm as you hold his face, swiping your thumbs under his eyes in a soothing gesture as the two of you sit on the couch

ღ there's a movie long discarded as you press your lips sweetly against his, the two of you biting lips and swiping tongues in a teasing mess of saliva

ღ it's meant to be fun and sweet but soon you're pinning taehyun against the cushions, hearing his whines and his groans as you trail your kisses along the sensitive skin of his shoulder and neck

ღ "you're so pretty, tae, you know that?" you hum, feeling the man shiver underneath the vibration of your voice

ღ you're feeling up his biceps, feeling them flex underneath you, feeling the power that he possesses but chooses to relinquish under your lead

ღ "you make me feel pretty," he admits, smiling up at you breathlessly in a way that makes both your heart and your clit throb

ღ soon, you're grinding down on him, feeling those arms wrap around you and desperately pull you closer

ღ whispers of "please please, feels so good, you make me feel so good"

ღ he's clingy during sex, wanting to feel warm and safe and protected under your touch, whether you choose to be gentle like now or mean and harsh like when he spends all your money knowing you can't say no to him

ღ he's cumming underneath you, untouched besides the friction of his jeans against your sweatpants, and as you lean back to try and get a better angle for your own pleasure, a hand wraps around your wrist

ღ soon you're looking down a taehyun's cheeky smile as his hand starts to slide down your stomach to where his thumb can press shyly against your clothed clit

ღ "i want to make nonna feel good too"

ღ he’s looking up at you through the dyed fringe of his bangs, his fingers moving up to tug lightly at the band of your sweatpants, as if asking for permission

ღ and it's so fucking hot but the little ":D" of his smile is too cute in contrast

hueningkai

ღ hueningkai literally makes up the oxygen i breathe oml

ღ but anyways, with his noona i feel like he'd want to overcompensate just a little bit

ღ yes he's cute and he's fun, but sometimes he tries a little too hard to appear manly and dependable around you just because of what people have drilled into his head

ღ you don't notice until he's flushing red and leaning back away from one of your more forward touches in public, something that makes you tilt your head in curiosity

ღ you don't address it then, simply hanging onto his arm as you two navigate the busy streets

ღ but then you're undressing him in the doorway of your shared apartment, sucking hickeys into the sweet skin of his neck as you practically tear apart the buttons of his shirt

ღ his hands are gripping all over you as he whines, trying to anchor himself by holding onto your shoulders as he lets himself get pushed back into the bedroom

ღ it's not until you're on top of him, heart eyed and salivating at the sight of his flushed cheeks, fucked out look, and bruised lips that he finally acts on what he's been thinking about all day

ღ "noona..." you almost have to strain your ears to hear him but soon enough you're freezing your hands and listening to what he has to say

ღ "i want to try to lead," he finally admits, brown eyes big and full of hesitation as he waits for your response

ღ all those small signs that have piled up throughout the day suddenly make sense, and after a few moments of consideration, you nod

ღ you try to calm down his worries with a smile, and maneuver your position to where hueningkai's hovering above you as you sink into the cushions

ღ "go ahead then, beautiful," you giggle, reaching up to play with a few loose strands of his hair as he tries not to let the nickname go straight to his dick

ღ nervously, he begins to fumble with your clothes, hands shaking lightly as he wrestles with the buttons of your top

ღ his frustration is evident and soon enough there's tears welling up in his eyes and he whines out a tangle of "i'm sorry" "i don't know what i'm doing" "i'm sorry, noona"

ღ it's heartbreaking to see him cry outside of pleasure, and gently you return to your previous position, cradling his face between your palms as you straddle his waist

ღ "it's ok," you coo, wiping away any stray tears

ღ "who told you that you had to lead?" you asked the elephant in room, the feeling of him flinching underneath you telling you that he himself had been digging his own mental grave this entire day

ღ "i don't know," he mumbles miserably, suddenly gasping as your hand sweetly cups his still growing hard-on

ღ "if you don't know, then i guess i'll just have to make sure you don't know the answer to anything else, kay'? i'll make you forget all about wanting to lead, since you''ll be too busy getting fucked good to even think about anything else," you smile, rendering hueningkai speechless and wide eyed before your touch sends him squirming and moaning in your hold all over again

ღ he's still young and getting used to the fact that him being a sub is completely fine, just be there to guide him and swallow up his broken moans of "noona, please, touch me, touch me please!" when the time comes when he comes

[scope-dogg]

Some generic thoughts I’ve recently had about AC6 lore lately after seeing other people’s commentary:

I think it’s notable that 621 is a 4th gen enhanced human on a meta level - while human augmentation is a constant across AC and very common in mecha fiction as a whole, arguably the most famous and one of the most memorable examples is that of Four Murasume, the cyber newtype from Zeta Gundam. In fact “cyber newtype” is a bit of a translation liberty, in Japanese it’s “kyouka ningen” ie. Enhanced human, the exact same term AC6 uses. I think this is notable because Four lost her memories and identity as part of the process, and thus her number and the facility where it was performed became her identity. In my head canon 621 is the same, and as such when Walter refers to them by number it’s not meant to be a slight - he probably has nothing better to call you.

On a related note, emotional instability is noted as one of the side affects of gen 4 augmentation, which may be another call-out to Four’s character, as drastic changes in personality and emotional outbursts were the result of her piloting the Psyco Gundam. It’s also notable that Iguazu is also gen 4 and I think this accounts for why Iguazu is the way he is and probably also why Michigan puts up with his shit to the extent that he does. If I’m thinking along the right lines it probably recontextualises his obsession with you as less pathetic and more tragic - it might be less that he’s just a salty little bitch and more that he has a serious mental illness due to the augmentation. It would also put him in line with the characters of Ypsilon and Rada Niva from Votoms, two other enhanced characters that were similarly insecure and/or obsessed.

If you manage to lose to Invincible Rummy in the grid 86 mission, he immediately starts begging for Carla to reward him with coral. This makes it seem like she’s exploiting Rummy’s and probably the rest of the Dosers working for her through their addiction, highly predatory and immoral behaviour if I’m reading it right.

Open Faith, V2 Snail’s AC, uses predominantly needle-like weapons, some of which use electrical discharge which is kind of like AC6’s version of poison. The cone snail is a marine snail that poisons prey by shooting a poison barb into its prey before devouring it. The laser lance he uses is even shaped a bit like a cone snail shell.

V1 Freud is the most notable user of the laser drone back weapon, that’s an obvious fallout to funnels and other remote controlled “bit” weaponry, which is one of the signatures of the Gundam series. This is usually used to denote characters or technology that goes above and beyond the norm, such as powerful newtypes, or technology that emulates their capabilities. AC6 subverts this in that Freud, as far as I know, is one of the only AC pilots in the game, and certainly the only one amongst the Vespers to have no augments at all, which means that he’s operating his bits on nothing but raw talent - the game even draws attention to this through Carla’s dialogue. With this combined with the fact that he’s rated as the number 1 AC pilot on Rubicon really draws attention to what a monster the guy must be (even if his actual fight doesn’t quite live up to his reputation.)

[cerastes]

How do you rate the gacha booty shooter?

NIKKE sure is a game! It's the funnest mixed bag I've played lately. As a side game, it's been pretty good, because it's good at what it does good, and not terrible at its weak points, leaving you with a pretty "Ok :)" feeling overall.

So what's up with Nikke? Yeah, let's have a talk about that so I can explain a bit by what I mean with "fun mixed bag".

Nikke's setting is the same old tired, you've seen it a million times: Once day, humanity was almost decimated by a mysterious enemy that came out of nowhere... We call it... The Enemy! They were simply too strong, so humanity had to deploy its strongest weapons: Anime Girls. And you are the lucky Authority Figure that commands the Anime Girls to defeat The Enemy! But... The Enemy and Anime Girls have more in common than it seems...!?

Replace "The Enemy" with "Rapture", "Anime Girl" with "Nikke", Authority Figure with... Technically "Commander" but more on this in a bit, and you've got Nikke. In other words, the game's setting and premise are just a few word swaps away from being Punishing Gray Raven, Snowbreak, and a bunch of other properties. But here's the thing: Whereas Punishing Gray Raven tells you its story with all the charm and pizzazz of a Wikipedia article, and Snowbreak... Uh, stands there staring at a wall Blair Witch style because nothing ever fucking happens in Snowbreak, Nikke actually has good moment to moment flow. Allow me to elaborate.

Read More break here because I wrote a lot more than I intended:

Nikke has probably the dumbest premise to open with: The Nikkes are basically superpowered cyborg girls (war machines with human brains) that look like supermodels on purpose because they were created, in the game's own words, "with the ideal form in mind". That's all a wordy way of saying they are super hot girls with very powerful guns and superhuman physical capabilities. The dumb part is that Nikkes are treated like absolute shit in-universe by humans. You're telling me humanity is making cyborgs -- not even full on robots or AI, these are straight up people getting turned into weapons -- that are hot as fuck and have tits bigger than my head and asses that could crush cars under their sheer heft and then decided to hate them and treat them like shit, and also these cyborgs are the ones actually keeping humanity alive? Well yeah we need a reason for the Main Character (you!) to be Special and bond with them, so your thing is that You Don't Treat Nikkes Like Shit. In fact, you care for them.

Now, this is all absolutely fucking stupid, but then, the game sort of... Realizes how stupid it is? And some may say "this was always the plan" but to me personally it feels like they kinda realized how god damn stupid this all was as a premise, and they started veering the car mid-trip because for a while this all feels REALLY sincere, not in a foreshadowing way, but then you have some developments such as "no yeah, Commanders are a dime a dozen, are brainwashed into seeing Nikkes as walking garbage and that they'll be heroes, risk their lives for pennies and are extremely expendable", and there's also what I consider a really good and consistent thing the game has done: Nikkes were always a desperate last minute rushed product as a concept, so the safety measures in place so that they don't rebel against humans were never perfect.

This is what I mean by the moment to moment being good: The plot is absolutely whatever, the setting is something you've seen a million times, but the actual scene by scene, beat by beat, is fun. On the micro level, the game knows how to be entertaining and interesting, and when they expand these micro nuggets of gold to a macro level of writing, it's when they end up with their best bits of narrative and world building. I want to use two examples about the whole safety measures thing: Crow and Rose.

Crow is a Nikke that hates humans and is part of a squad of known dangerous elements that Missilis, the most irresponsible of the Big Three companies, is responsible for. This squad is Exotic, and Exotic works with you (your squad is named Counters) on this one mid-game chapter. The thing is, they never really intended to work with you, and Crow wanted you dead because Crow wants to spark a Human Vs Nikke conflict in the Ark (humanity's last big home), because you might quell the hostility between both sides. But, Nikkes can't intentionally kill humans (accidents happen and a Nikke may be ordered to subdue a human, but they are hardwired to not be able to shoot at them or kill them). So, how does Crow go about it when she betrays you? She has her squadmate Jackal plant a steel plate on the ground, and then shoots the plate in a way that the bullet ricochets and hits you. NIMPH, what's used to, among many other things, make sure Nikkes can't turn on humans, was so, so easily circumvented, and this is consistent with what we've been told about the Ark and Nikke in universe development in general: It's sloppy, it's lazy, it's not good. Rose, the other example, is a Nikke from a flashback story around a hundred of years before the start of the game. Rose was a prototype Nikke that was geared for melee combat instead of ranged combat, as all Nikkes are, and she was one of ten such units. Basically, Rose realized that their human Commander was intentionally trying to get them killed until one remained, which would be deemed the success of the line in Darwinian fashion. Rose got so immensely, justifiably angry at this that she plotted to kill the Commander. How can she do this, though, with the NIMPH that prevents her from doing so? Well, Rose was an actual swordmaster, and what she did was wear a blindfold, convince herself that what she was slicing was not a human, but a Rapture, and then she easily killed the shit out of him, unimpeded by her system. The NIMPH, end of the day, is sloppily made, highly dependent on the mental state of the Nikke, and easily circumvented. This is a very important plot point throughout the story, and the way they show this in multiple ways is really good.

Another thing I like is how the game goes about the player's title. It's technically "Commander" but the truth is, most every single Nikke calls you a different way relative to your relationship with them or their impression of you. Rapi and Anis some of the few that call you Commander, because they are in fact your subordinates, but Rapi says "Shikikan" while Anis says "Shikikan-sama" in a sarcastic way initially and after a while in an affectionately playful way, Neon calls you "Master" (Shishou) because she likes the way you use firepower, Liter calls you "Greenhorn" because you are, well, that in her eyes, Moran calls you "Partner" (Ototou, "little brother" in Japanese) because she's the head of a crime syndicate and she considers you as a cool person under her protection, the sports inclined ones call you "Coach", the school themed ones "Teacher", Viper, the flirty one, "Honey" or "Darling" depending on the scene, and so on, the old timey Scarlet calls you "My Lord", the religious Rapunzel uses "Believer", and the coarse, rough around the edges Snow White just uses "You" (Omae). It's a great touch that I like when it's done.

So, basically, you have a charming combination of a setting that's been overdone infinite times with plot beats that vary between legitimately good (the NIMPH and its logistics) and legitimately bad (Whatever the fuck Chapter 18 was, to name one case), and moment to moment that's really charming and entertaining.

The gameplay is honestly extremely unbalanced, and the sheer disparity in strength between units of the same rarity makes you wonder if they have anyone in the team that actually cares about balance, but honestly, putting the issues of balance aside? It's fun to point at stuff and shoot a million bullets and rockets, and they even get pretty creative with the fights sometimes in terms of enemy types and how they use them against you, so gameplay balance is awful, gameplay itself is suprisingly good for how simple it is.

I know people are going to be like "Dreamer, You Didn't Even Rate The Asses" so okay here:

First of all, the ergonomically perfect ass of the VIXEN that lured me into the game in a moment of weakness, Scarlet:

And next up, the Clothed But Massive Ass of Snow White

In fact, I appreciate the variety, because if it was just bare cheeks and panty shots, it'd be kinda whatever to me, but bodysuit ass and clothed but noticeably huge ass? Fresh, to be honest.

Also notable is that progress in entirely gated by passive production of resources and daily stuff because there's no stamina system. Bold!

But yeah feel free to ask more specific questions, but this is pretty much how I've felt about it.

[heyclickadee]

Because I still think they’re bringing Tech back one way or another (in the immortal words of the late great Kanan Jarrus, “I’m being optimistic.”) and because I actually do need an explanation for why CX-2 was like that (because you cannot tell me we spent between 30 and 55 minutes, most of which was spent with just us watching him do stuff and not him interacting with the batch, on a symbolic construct—even if it’s not Tech, that’s an entire character at that point), here is another “CX-2 was Tech, but not physically” theory:

1. Hemlock captured and attempted to CX Tech. But, Tech being Tech, he resisted for months, and even once mostly CXd retained quite a bit of his personality in a way Hemlock found both interesting and a little worrying. Because of this, Tech became something of a special project. This is one of the reasons Hemlock never used Tech to threaten Omega—he wanted this particular CX-candidate under lock and key, and he thought that Tech had just enough personality while still in progress that he might relapse if he saw Omega, should Omega find her way to wherever Tech was being held the way she found her way down to Crosshair’s cell.

2. Since Tech was a special project, since finally well and truly CXing him (or at least getting him subdued enough to be under control, which I think is more likely) took time and effort, and since CXs don’t exactly have the best survival rate (Rex implies that he’s run into a slew of them, meaning they all probably died), Hemlock didn’t really want to send CX-Tech out just to have him die in two seconds. Alternatively: Hemlock CXd Tech just to see if he could work out a way to CX a defective clone, since it wasn’t working with Crosshair, but Tech was too badly injured to be sent out into the field without extensive cybernetics (if, say, his legs were toast after the fall or if he had a spinal chord injury that caused him chronic pain) that Hemlock didn’t want to spend money on only for him to die out in the field anyway. Or, maybe, he wanted to keep playing with Tech, because he’s Royce Hemlock and he’s a monster.

Then, either while looking for a solution for what to do with a CX project he didn’t want to waste, or as a motivation for why he worked so hard to CX Tech in the first place, Hemlock looked through Clone Force 99’s military records at one point or another and was struck by how effective a team of people with unique traits could be while working in together as a single unit. And, being the terrible mad scientist Silicon Valley startup CEO that he is, Hemlock decided to see if he could take that concept to a horrifying extreme.

3. So what he ends up doing with Tech is not that dissimilar from what Wat Tambor does with Echo. CX-Tech’s unconscious somewhere, down at the bottom of Tantiss, heavily brainwashed and sedated but still himself somewhere deep down, hooked up to some kind of apparatus, and Hemlock started using him to try to “drive” the other CXs with some kind of Avatar-style link. It becomes part of Hemlock’s updated CX process. That way the CXs can be really, truly interchangeable. (Bonus points if Tech was also the partially successful midichlorian transfer and Hemlock is taking advantage of that somehow to make this work. It’s bullshit Star Wars fantasy science—don’t think about it too hard.)

4. Though Hemlock may have tried this with others, the first CXs we see that he’s tried this with are CX-1 and CX-2. It marginally works with CX-1, to the point that Tech is there as an influence, but isn’t really in charge. He’s influential enough, however, that that’s why CX-1 reacts to Crosshair the way he does. CX-1 does know Crosshair from various conditioning sessions, but the weird beef CX-1 has with Crosshair, “If you want answers so badly, then why aren’t you asking him? Isn’t that right, brother?” and that weird warning he gives them, is all that little bit of Tech that’s sitting there in the back of CX-1’s head.

With CX-2, however, the link works so well that that’s just CX-Tech in another body.

5. Sidebar, but in this theory, it’s CX-1 who’s staring Crosshair down in Shadows of Tantiss. Or, it’s Tech staring Crosshair down through CX-1’s eyes. (One thing that has always bugged me about that shot is that the pose is 100% Tech, and we’re visually being told that it’s Tech with the armor and the lines on the wall, but that guy’s legs are proportionally just a little too short for it to BE Tech. Which could be explained multiple other ways, of course—Tech could have cybernetic legs that are shorter now, Hemlock could have gone in and surgically made his legs shorter to make him blend in with the other CXs better, they didn’t have the budget to make a Tech-specific CX model, who knows. But—I still like it being Tech without it physically being him in this shot.)

6. Another sidebar, but in this theory the reason the CX tracker isn’t something that will be picked up by a scanner is because the signal or link or whatever it is that Hemlock’s using to enable CX-Tech to drive the other CXs IS the tracker. Or the link is being established through the other CX’s inhibitor chips (which a scanner won’t pick up) or something. And when they die, the tracking signal goes dead, too.

7. Extra sidebar: Hemlock was originally going to use Crosshair for this. These were the “other plans despite his resistance to re-education” he mentions to Omega in Confined. Crosshair may or may not know this. Hemlock may have also point blank told Crosshair that he put Tech through the CX process and that Tech is “dead” in an attempt to break Crosshair, despite that not being literally true (in much the same way Wat Tambor said, “Your friend is dead,” about Echo to Rex in the TBB arc). Which just wigs out Crosshair even more when multiple CXs and especially CX-2 show up and start acting like Tech.

8. This was Hemlock’s plan for the Worst Batch CXs—basically, to have a group of CXs with unique traits all being controlled by a single mind. That mind being Tech, who he’s already got successfully “driving” CX-2.

9. Fast forward to the finale, Hemlock lets the whole worst batch out at once. This ends up being why the Worst Batch CXs have no personality, why Hemlock hesitated on sending them out at all (he wasn’t sure they would all even operate at the same time, and was so, so smug when they did), why CX-2 has so much less personality in the finale and only manages that one line, why they aren’t that big of a threat once the batch gets backup and aren’t being caught by surprise; why the worst batch CXs are so hard to kill and keep getting up, zombie-like, after they’ve been shot, why that one guy who gets his helmet knocked off walks around like he’s sleepwalking, and why the sword CX hands the sword over to CX-2. CX-2 gets more attention than the others because he’s the CX that Tech’s been driving the longest, so it takes less of an effort, but all of them collectively activated at the same time? Tech is having to drive all of them, and he’s just one guy. He’s stretched too thin and it’s almost too much to keep them moving. So they’re barely conscious and only half aware of what’s happening to them.

10. This would means that every single POV shot we got from either a tube or from a CX—because we get two from tubes, several POV shots from CX-2 including in the finale, and one significant one from CX-1—in season three is from Tech’s perspective, because he’s looking through all of them to one extent or another.

11. Whether some of the CXs survived or not—and I hope some of them did—Tech coming back and recovering in a later (possible follow up) showwould mean getting a some in-universe sympathy for the CXs that was mentioned in interviews but sorely lacking in the final product. They still would have been people under all of that, Tech would have “operated” them all to their deaths, and Tech would have been in their heads going through all of that with them as they died or got hurt. All of them, at the same time. And he would have been CX-2 (just operating in a body that wasn’t his) and done everything CX-2 did. That’s a lot to deal with. Bonus points if Tech mentioning that he was all of the CXs in the final fight and being in multiple bodies at once leads to Echo talking about what it’s like to scomp in from an internal perspective. Even if it’s just one line.

(For the record, I would actually quite like it if Tech was just CX-2 straight up and survived being impaled, and if the explanation was just, “CX-2 had to “die” and the pod that kept turning him into this had to be killed for Tech to start living again,” because it’s VERY Star Wars, but I’d be okay with this, too.)

[undergaunts]

Call Me Baby (Chapter 1)

Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt (Modern!AU)

Summary: The text chat logs between Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt during their 6th and 7th year at Hogwarts. (or Sebastian and Ominis can't bear to be apart for longer than 5 minutes, so spend their entire summer, winter and spring breaks texting and calling each other)

Rating: Teen & Up (this will go up in the next chapters!)

Word count: 4.1k

Recommended to read on AO3 as the layout is better but it’s also below the cut <3

SUMMER

July 2nd, 2:08pm

SBSTN hey

Ominis Good morning.

SBSTN morning ?! it’s like 2pm

Ominis I’m aware. I was joking.

SBSTN OH

LMAO

sorry im half awake

Ominis At 2 in the afternoon? What a shock!

SBSTN alright grumpy

just because u already miss me doesn’t mean u can be mean

Ominis I don’t miss you. I’m enjoying the peace and quiet.

SBSTN oh im sure

brb breakfast

2:42pm

SBSTN k back

Ominis Did you enjoy your ‘breakfast’?

SBSTN ya it was basically just toast lol

Ominis You’ll spoil your appetite for supper if you eat so late.

SBSTN I could eat more AND still eat dinner

im a growing boy!

Ominis Horizontally or vertically?

SBSTN >:(

gonna ignore that

Anne says hello

Ominis Hello Anne, how are you?

SBSTN she says shes good

she asks how u r

Ominis Well, for where I am, thank you. Missing you already! 

SBSTN HEY >:(

u just said u don’t miss me

Ominis Indeed, but I miss Anne.

SBSTN piss off

she’s laughing at me

ur both bullies

Ominis :)

SBSTN >>>:((((

ok she’s dragging me out, imma leave my phone here cos solomon said he wont buy me a new one if i lose it again lol

speak later ?

Ominis Have a nice time. Speak later.

SBSTN phone?

Ominis If you’d like.

SBSTN kewl

BYE

Ominis Goodbye.

July 6th, 10:19am

SBSTN *image*

LOOK

wait

LOL

sorry

basically we saw this like albino cat and it reminded me and anne of u

it had little beauty marks and stuff as well

u sure ur not in feldcroft?

r u an animagus and u didn’t tell me ?!

Ominis Good morning.

SBSTN MORNING

prev mssgs plz

Ominis I’m most certainly not an animagus Sebastian.

SBSTN no i was joking

ik u wld tell me :P

not the point

CAT!OMINIS

Ominis Yes, very sweet.

SBSTN u ok?

Ominis Never been better.

SBSTN :/

sure ?

Ominis Yes, thank you.

SBSTN ok

sure ur sure

Ominis Yes, Sebastian. I’m perfectly well.

SBSTN Alright

July 9th, 12:30pm

SBSTN any plans the next couple weeks then ?

Ominis Much the same. Sit in my bedroom. Ponder life. I may even dare to eat some food.

SBSTN please eat lol

i can come to little hangleton and hang out if u want me to

@ GAUNT MANOR

lol mad ur family is so rich

Ominis I couldn’t think of anything worse.

SBSTN oi

being srs, floo straight in thru ur fireplace

bam, sebby and omi party time

if i was there u might venture further than ur kitchen lol

Ominis Absolutely not. I would send you straight back.

SBSTN :(

u wound me ominis

Ominis It’s not that I don’t want to see you. I’ve heard word is to.

SBSTN huh

Ominis Apologies. Damned speech to text. I was whispering. Some of these House Elves will report anything. Oh who cares. My mother and father are returning soon. Probably within the next week.

SBSTN oh

sorry :(

Ominis No need. I will do my very best to avoid them.

SBSTN i could still come for a day

b4 they get there

might make the next 2 months a bit bearable if u c me again

well not see me but u know what i mean

1:12pm

SBSTN hello?

Ominis Apologies.

I’d like to see you, but coming here is not a good idea.

SBSTN y?

Ominis You know why.

SBSTN ya but

surely having a friend over is fine right

i am also pureblood btw

Ominis Sebastian.

SBSTN well i am lmao

ik im not rich and there is probably some muggle blood in me from like … 5 centuries ago but

im all wizard, all man B)

anyway surely they aren’t even gonna be there for a few days yet

and even if they turn up i can just

bam floo straight back home

Ominis No.

SBSTN Ominis.

Ominis Sebastian.

I’ve said no. My decision is final.

SBSTN ok :(

Ominis but thank you for caring

July 11th, 6:00pm

Ominis Bye

SBSTN WHAT

WHERE U GOING

dude what

Ominis Sorry. Speech to text is truly not understanding what I’m saying when I whisper. I’m trying to find my laptop, hold on.

SBSTN bruh u scared me

♫i wish u would step back from that ledge my friend♫

that’s probably not funny but i laughed

comedy with sebastian sallow

one night only

Ominis ok on laptop now. sorry if typing is bad

SBSTN terrible :’(

Ominis what wrong?

SBSTN LOL

when you do speech 2 text i can hear u speaking in my head but when ur typing u just sound like me

Ominis easier to tyoe this way

SBSTN hell yeah brother

Ominis don’t call me tht

SBSTN what brother?

Ominis yes

SBSTN HAHAHA

XD

would u rather sister?

Ominis …possibly

SBSTN LOOOOOL

u weird

ANYWAY

what were u trying to say to me?

Ominis o, my mothr and father have come home

SBSTN ah

my condolences

how r they?

Ominis fine

SBSTN good

and how r u ?

Ominis fine

SBSTN :/

sure?

Ominis not entirly

SBSTN do tell

Ominis don’t want to burdem you

SBSTN rolling my eyes here

theyve popped out my head

bye eyes

enjoy ur life as free balls

lol

dude tell me

Ominis apprently they had beenin paris tofind suitable pureblood fsmilies or somthing

SBSTN what does that mean?

Ominis i think they trying to marry marvlo off

SBSTN OH

Ominis yes

SBSTN i mean it’ll get him out of ur hair right?

bye bitch

Ominis hopefully. think im jus nervous that once theyr done with him theyl look to me

SBSTN oh

Ominis yes

SBSTN ok well they cant do that until ur 18 and we r 16 so i think so we got time to think of a plan

if it comes to it ill kidnap u and we’ll go live in America or something

dw about it ok?

i got u

ok?

Ominis ok

thank you seb

SBSTN np

:)

July 15th, 1:18am

Ominis Are you awake?

1:26am

Ominis Sebastian?

1:31am

Ominis Hello?

8:42am

SBSTN soz i was asleep what’s up

9:32am

Ominis Nothing, don’t worry.

July 18th, 5:51pm

SBSTN sorry for such a late message 

how’s it hanging

Ominis Have you been busy?

SBSTN we went to London with Solomon

he left us at diagon alley for hours lmao

he said he had ‘ministry matters’ but i swear he just went and got drunk lol

he STUNK of firewhiskey 

i can still smell it and hes not even in the house

Ominis Perhaps it’s his cologne? They usually have alcohol in them, I believe.

SBSTN nah

Ominis Perhaps he had drinks with someone from the ministry?

SBSTN oh good theory

maybe

it’s fine

Ominis I can’t see him taking you and Anne all the way to London just for him to drink. 

SBSTN yeh ur right

Ominis As always.

SBSTN now now dear don’t go stroking ur own ego

Ominis Don’t call me dear, Sebastian. It makes me feel like an old woman. 

SBSTN sorry

sister :)

Ominis I’d like to wring your neck.

SBSTN dont tease ;)

July 21st, 2:13am

Ominis Are you awake?

2:17am

Ominis Sebastian?

SBSTN yep yep here

Ominis Sorry.

SBSTN what’s up ?

Ominis Nothing. I apologise. Go back to sleep. 

SBSTN wanna call?

Ominis I don’t want to bother you. 

SBSTN ur not

promise

calling

SBSTN is calling Ominis

Call accepted

Call ended, 1hr 6min

3:25am

SBSTN ill ask him in the morning ok?

but i don’t see why not

Anne will be happy :)

so will I

in a macho way.

Ominis Of course. Thank you.

SBSTN :)

go sleep

Ominis I will try. 

SBSTN sweet dreams baby boy

Ominis You too.

11:12am

SBSTN HELLO

HE SAID YES

U CAN COME WHENEVER U WANT BASICALLY! 

U COULD COME TODAY

YAY

11:17am

SBSTN haha solomon said he’ll take my bed so u can bunk in with me

ik u would probably rather share with anne

but i think solomon would kill u before he let that happen lol

and she’s a kicker anyway

11:25am

SBSTN me and anne r gonna go hogsmeade and get some stuff :)

u want anything?

i will make sure to put a little chocolate frog on top of ur pillow :)

hehe

1:09pm

SBSTN ok at HM now 

got a butterbeer sirona says hi

omgs if ernie lark doesn’t shut up imma make him

lmao

1:29pm

SBSTN Ominis?

Missed call from SBSTN

2:11pm

SBSTN yo can u just send me a message to lmk ur ok?

3:03pm

SBSTN Ominis

Missed call from SBSTN

3:48pm

SBSTN om

4:19pm

SBSTN OMINIS

ITS ANNE

WHY U NO RESPOND

Missed call from SBSTN

Missed call from SBSTN

SBSTN hey we are leaving hogsmeade, i got u some stuff anyway but just worried.

6:05pm

SBSTN made an extra dinner portion in case ur coming. 

call me when ur around ok?

7:41pm

Missed call from SBSTN

SBSTN ok, im hoping ur parents just dragged u somewhere today. hope ur ok. 

10:34pm

SBSTN im gonna try to sleep. really hope you’re ok.

July 22nd, 12:06am

SBSTN ok can’t sleep. 

here if u need me

2:38am

Ominis Sorry.

Ominis is calling SBSTN

Call accepted

Call ended, 28min

3:07am

Ominis I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. 

SBSTN ITS OK

dude i only worry cos i care about u

stupid they took ur phone and laptop

ik it’s muggle technology or whatever but everyone uses them nowadays

but yeah I’d wait a couple days to ask them

don’t worry if u cant talk for a bit, but u know where to find me if u need me

alright go get ur beauty sleep

Ominis Thank you, again. I really hope to see you soon. 

SBSTN u will :)

promise :)

Ominis Goodnight Sebastian. 

SBSTN goodnight baby boy

Ominis I think I don’t mind that name

July 29th, 7:14am

Ominis Good morning :)

9:22am

SBSTN HI GORGEOUS

ur back :)

missed u

no homo

lol

Ominis I am indeed back.

SBSTN r u ok?

Ominis I am. Are you?

SBSTN now that ur back !! 

again, no homo LMAO

no but srsly r u ok? been a bit worried, ik u were gonna lay low a bit but still

Ominis I’m fine. Good, even. My father has agreed for me to come and stay in Feldcroft. However, only for the last two weeks of the Summer. 

SBSTN OKAY!

THAT STILL GOOD

:DDDDD

Anne’s gonna be so excited

Ominis It’s a shame I can’t come sooner. I think these two weeks might be the longest of my life. 

SBSTN we’ve gone longer before my dude

we’ve just gone like 4 weeks so what’s like 3 more

Ominis Very true. You are wise sometimes, Sebastian. 

SBSTN flatterer

August 3rd, 10:14am

SBSTN ur right it’s dragging

anne is making me go to gladrags with her 

i want u here so we can do manly things

like skipping rocks on the water

long walks along the beach at sunset <3

LMAO jk but srsly haha I’m bored

August 5th, 12:36pm

SBSTN 2 weeks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ominis Could you not have sent more exclamation points?

SBSTN srry

Ominis It’s almost like you aren’t excited. 

SBSTN ill do better next time

Ominis I’m rather offended, actually. 

SBSTN :(

Ominis :)

SBSTN :D

August 12th, 2:47pm

Ominis One week, I believe. 

SBSTN UR RIGHT 

I’m dancing

u can’t see me rn but i am

Ominis I can’t see at all. 

SBSTN dude.

Ominis I saw the opportunity and I took it. 

SBSTN u didn’t see anything

cos ur blind

Ominis Haha. Very funny. 

SBSTN :D

1 WEEk!

August 18th, 6:04pm

SBSTN SO WHAT TIME U COMING

ill walk over and meet u

r ur house elves gonna bring ur school stuff later?

cos there’s not a lot of room here haha

but it’s cool if u need 2 :)

come at like just after midnight haha technically counts

ill wait up

Ominis I’ll probably come around midday, if that’s acceptable. I will have to speak to my father before leaving, I suppose. I am looking forward to seeing you. Very much.

SBSTN me too :)

we’ll have lunch and then maybe we can go exploring or something

there’s an empty cave down by the water that has all these old stones and bricks with weird patterns on them i think you’ll like

like they feel all weird 

good hand feel

oh and the Ominis cat is back so you two will have to meet !

Ominis I cant wait. 

SBSTN me neither

August 19th, 12:05pm

Ominis I’ll be on my way soon. 

SBSTN just helping Anne finish the pie then ill head over :)

Ominis Are you covered in flour by any chance?

SBSTN u kno it baby

im a messy boy ;)

Ominis Looking forward to seeing you like that oh that doesn't make sense

At least look presentable for your guest.

SBSTN but u can’t see me?

lol

will do, dw

12:21pm

SBSTN ok heading over now

Ominis And I am just leaving.

SBSTN c u soon <3

Ominis

<3

WINTER

December 20th, 9:24am

SBSTN changed their display name to xmaSeb

xmaSeb i have ur tie

found it in my bag

idk why i bought it home lol

gonna wear it like a bandana

Ominis How do you know it’s mine?

xmaSeb its got a little og on the inside

Ominis What is an og?

Oh. My initials.

xmaSeb i wrote it in all ur ties so they don’t get lost or someone else steals then

Ominis How sweet

Why didn’t you tell me this before?

Would it matter, as long as I had enough ties?

xmaSeb no

i guess not

i just like the house elves to know whose is whose

Ominis Well, thank you. I’ll collect it in a few days. 

xmaSeb :)

how r the gaunts

Ominis I don’t think you want to know.

xmaSeb probably not

tell me anyway

Ominis Cruel, vicious, muggle-hating? I think about that covers it. 

xmaSeb ah

so not much has changed

Ominis Of course not. 

xmaSeb at least it’s only like what a week?

Ominis 4 days, 5 if you count the day it took to travel.

xmaSeb remind me why they wanted you to come back so bad ? 

Ominis The family of the witch that Marvolo is supposed to be marrying are visiting tomorrow. 

xmaSeb right

Ominis So I had to be in attendance to prove we are a worthy family, stronger together. Always in Power and whatnot. 

xmaSeb right

Ominis So now I’m stuck here listening to my father rant about blood purity when all I want to do is to be with you. 

And Anne.

Even Solomon. 

xmaSeb lol

sure he’d be chuffed

Ominis I’d take 100 Solomon’s over one of my fathers. 

xmaSeb how many mes would u take

Ominis 0

xmaSeb oh

</3

xmaSeb devastated :(

Ominis You know I jest. 

xmaSeb :D

Ominis Excuse me. Apparently after breakfast I’m being taken for a suit fitting. I seem to have outgrown last years’ already. I’ll speak to you later. 

xmaSeb nice

send pics

xmaSeb ;)

Ominis You know I won't do that. 

xmaSeb :(

no fair 

speak later?

Ominis Call?

xmaSeb anything 4 u baby boy

5:36pm

Ominis *image*

I’m not sure if I even got a picture. But I’m sending this anyway. 

xmaSeb damn

u so fine

lol wear that at school and the girls will be all over u trust me

:)))

Ominis I don’t want

Do you really think

Thank you.

December 22nd, 12:32am

Ominis Thnk Merlin thts over

dmn key stuck

does  work?

        .

a a a 

xmaSeb mine a works a just a fine a

Ominis on my laptop stupid

xmaSeb phone?

Ominis dead

xmaSeb charge

electric spell mate tht wht i do

Ominis fool

guests

loud

xmaSeb O YE

im 2 pretty 2 think

anyway how was it

Ominis horrid

apprently marv was makin bedrom eyes at her

thts wat my sister said

xmaSeb LMAO

was she pretty

do you kno

Ominis sis said she looked a bit like a horse

xmaSeb HORSE?

like NEIGH?

Ominis quote ‘very long face with very long nose, lovely mane thoug’

xmaSeb why does he want to screw her then

Ominis pureblood

xmaSeb don’t need to say anymore lol

how was it tho

Ominis painful

spent the whole night trying to remmber french 

which i def butchered

and they kept grabbjng my chin to look at me and commenting about my eyes

but I coulndt hear them coming

xmaSeb LOL

so when u gonna speak to me in French?

ik some french 

bonjour mon petit croissant

but yeh that sounds sucky dude

why r they all so weird

its a wonder u turned out so perfect ;)

Ominis not

xmaSeb yes

perfect baby boy :)

Ominis no

xmaSeb yes :)

Ominis no

xmaSeb YES

stop arguing

Ominis fine

xmaSeb i win!

only 2 days now 

Ominis indeed

xmaSeb then u get to see ur bestest friend in the whole world!

Ominis anne

xmaSeb me!

oh

Ominis joke

xmaSeb im gonna sleep now v tired

Ominis talk tomorrw?

xmaSeb don’t even need to ask <3

December 24th, 10:43am

xmaSeb good morrow sire 

ur carriage awaits

(me, waiting for u to carry ur bag back home)

Ominis I shan’t be long. See you shortly.

December 25th, 4:52am

xmaSeb meryy chrismtas omii i lvoeu 

oh ur ruyght there

I stikl lovu

even if i dnttell u

SPRING

March 25th, 10:14am

xmaSeb changed their display name to seabass

seabass haha just seen those last messages

Ominis You love me?

Were you drunk? 

seabass noooooooo

tht just shows how drunk u were if u dont remember me being drunk

Ominis I was drunk too?

seabass we were all drunk baby

Ominis Merlin. 

How do I not remember this?

seabass dont tell me u don’t remember our passionate night together as well?!

Ominis What

What

Sorry, what?

What?

seabass wow

broken hearted

was this why we never discussed it?

Ominis I’m sorry, I really don’t remember, Sebastian. Why didn’t you mention this sooner?

seabass sigh

it was so amazing, so passionate

don’t think i could get u to stop talking about potions for a good hour

how much u HATE it

so much passion in ur heart!!!

Ominis I thought you meant

Oh, haha, very funny Sebastian. I was scared for a moment there. 

seabass what of lol

trust if we ever were passionate we would both remember VERY clearly ;)

Ominis Enough joking around. 

seabass never

but fine i’ll stop FOR NOW

how’s oui oui paris

(read tht with the french accent on paris so it rhymes plz)

Ominis Horrid. For the most part, I’ve managed to keep to myself, but this damned family might end up killing me. 

seabass which one lol

gaunts or delacar

or however u spell it

Ominis Delacroix. I just had to spell that out, this phone is really poor at spelling. 

Truthfully, it’s going to be one or the other. Marvolo is all over this Rosalié like a ravenous mongrel. Eleven year age gap, mind you. Their only topic of conversation seems to be about hating muggles in broken French and English. 

seabass the horse girl

oh so she’s like only a bit older than us?

Ominis Precisely. Only just finished Beauxbatons last year, apparently. She also has a younger sister, who is very timid, unlike the rest of her family, but I’m certain my mother and father are already hatching the egregious plan to marry us when she comes of age. 

seabass shit

i had to look up egregious lol

how old?

Ominis Eleven, I believe. Starting Beauxbatons in the Autumn if I understood her mother correctly. 

seabass oh gross

yuck

but that does give us time to hatch a plan and run away

Ominis I could very well be wrong, but I have sat next to her at every dinner we’ve had together so far. It would certainly not surprise me. 

seabass im so sorry baby

Ominis I’m here for another few days, then back home. I think I may not survive these two weeks. 

seabass plz survive

i wouldn’t be able to go on

itll all be ok, dw :)

Ominis Do you promise?

seabass on my life

March 30th, 8:27pm

Ominis Home now. 

seabass welcome back to to the British Isles

enjoy your tea and scones

me ol mucker

Ominis What on Earth are you on about now?

seabass haha

there’s this american muggle show thing and one of them is trying to do an English accent and its soooo bad

me and anne were watching it and couldn’t stop laughing

ill send a video hold on

u don’t have to see it just listen hold on

*video*

8:35pm

Ominis What did I just hear?

seabass HAHAHAH

absolute shambles

Ominis I think my ears may be bleeding.

seabass nooo don’t lose your hearing ur so sexy aha

Ominis Excuse me?

seabass meme

Ominis Clearly. If I did lose my hearing at least I wouldn’t have to hear you speak again. 

seabass if u lost ur ears how would i even communicate with u? 

:(

Ominis No communication with you? Sounds like a dream come true. 

seabass yeah but if we couldn’t talk at all i wouldn’t be able to do this

seabass is calling Ominis

Call accepted

Call ended, 2hr 3min

10:51pm

seabass <3333

Ominis Goodnight Sebastian.

seabass sleep well lovely <3

Ominis And you. 

<3

April 3rd, 11:36am

seabass good morning angelface 

Ominis Angel face. That’s a new one. 

seabass do u like

Ominis It’s not something I’ve heard before. 

seabass so u DO like it

Ominis Hang on, I never said that.

seabass what do u prefer, sister or angelface

remember that hahaha

Ominis I do remember. It was only a joke. 

seabass ikkkkk

k of all the names I call u what do u prefer

angelface

baby

baby boy

gorgeous

lovely

perfect

or dumbass motherfucker

Ominis You’ve never called me that last one. I dare not repeat it. 

seabass not to your face >:)

Ominis Really? Then to who?

seabass just in my head

to myself

whenever i look @ u

Ominis You are an idiot, Sebastian Sallow.

seabass i think my fave ones r baby boy and perfect because that’s what u r :)

Ominis I honestly can’t tell if you’re flirting

I’m really getting mixed signals

I think you’re more perfect

Such a charmer. 

I think I just prefer my name. 

seabass ahhh no fun :(

i only give u these pet names because ily :(

Ominis What?

Sorry

In what way

I love you too, I have for

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck oh stupid phone stop listening to me I’m not trying to

11:52am

seabass sorry was that weird haha

ur just my best friend and stuff

sorry

Ominis Oh, of course

Oh

I thought you meant

Idiot

Don’t

Don’t apologise, if I’m honest I don’t mind the names. It’s certainly better than some of the things I’ve been called. Haha. 

Ominis And I L Y too. 

So much

seabass :D

<3

i shall continue to give you cute little names then

Ominis Alright. Don’t expect any from me though. 

Sweetheart. 

seabass YES

hahaha

seabass changed their display name to sweetheart

sweetheart look

i changed mine

mine display name 

change urs baby boy

Ominis What?

Oh, I’ve just heard it. Really?

sweetheart CHANGE UR NAME SO WE MATCH!!!!!

Ominis changed their display name to Baby Boy

Baby Boy Did that work?

sweetheart YEA

haha

this is dumb

still love it tho

NEW MESSAGE

From Natty<3 to sweetheart

April 3rd, 11:55am

Natty<3 It's happened! Congratulations guys <3

NEW MESSAGE

From QUIDDITCHQUEEN to sweetheart

April 3rd, 11:56am

QUIDDITCHQUEEN So you finally got your shit together then?

NEW MESSAGE

From pops to sweetheart

April 3rd, 11:56am

pops just saw yours and Ominis’ names! :)

very sweet :)

happy for you both :)

NEW MESSAGE

From Gazza to sweetheart

April 3rd, 11:57am

Gazza always knew you two would get it on haha

NEW MESSAGE

From LEANDER1 to sweetheart

April 3rd, 11:57am

LEANDER1 r u an gaunt gay or smth wots wiv the names

not judging idc

April 3rd, 11:58am

sweetheart we can change it back lol

Baby Boy Why?

I thought you loved it

sweetheart idk

im gonna

sweetheart changed their display name to sebastian

sebastian leave urs then

Baby Boy OK.

sebastian k

gtg c u friday 

Baby Boy  Is everything ok?

Baby Boy changed their display name to Ominis

Ominis Ok, goodbye then.

Love you.

April 4th, 12:07am

Ominis Sebastian?

12:19am

Ominis Are you there?

12:28 am

Missed call from Ominis

12:32am

Missed call from Ominis

12:40am

Ominis is calling sebastian

Call declined