#i'm so sorry for this i just have SO many thoughts about this and had to get them all down
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navybrat817 · 2 days ago
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All Dressed Up
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Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky visits a gallery to support his best friend and unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams.
Word Count: Over 2.3k
Warnings: First meeting, mild dirty thoughts, instacrush, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Okay, lovelies. A new AU. I'm sorry. @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline @whisperlullaby @sgt-seabass @vesearlee , I feel like you all either heard me screech, encouraged, or helped me, and I appreciate you. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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Bucky didn’t dress up for most people since it wasn’t his style. He would do so for any of his brothers though, especially Steve. His best friend since childhood, and his club’s president, he always had a love and talent for drawing and painting. And after working his ass off on his exhibit it would’ve been a crime for the vice president not to show up.
Steve promised if there was ever a day when Bucky’s writing became published he’d be by his side to celebrate too. As much as they liked to give each other shit sometimes about art and how they created it, the support was there through and through. The only catch for tonight was that he had to dress nicely to get into the gallery. So, instead of the usual leather jacket or vest he wore and jeans, he went with a plain black suit and white button up shirt.
He refused to wear a tie since it wasn’t a wedding. He had to draw a line somewhere. No one paid him any mind though as they walked around the gallery, and he was more than fine with that. This wasn’t his night.
“You should be proud, punk,” Bucky said, looking over the art lining the large wall, each piece crafted with care.
“I am proud, jerk,” Steve smiled. He hadn’t worn a tie either, and it made Bucky feel a little better. “And you know you don’t have to stay the whole time.”
Bucky knew that. He also knew members and prospects would be trickling in and out throughout the evening. “Not needed at the bar tonight, so I can stay as long as I want. But I might cut out early since I see your face enough between that and the club.”
Steve chuckled. “Still haven’t sold the place, huh?”
The brunette sighed. It wasn’t the first time Steve asked if he was going to sell the bar to focus more on writing. “Where the hell would you all hang out if I sold the place?” He liked the bar. It wasn’t just a great hangout for the club, but for his other regulars, too.
“There are other bars,” Steve teased. He said that, but he loved the bar, too. “You know I just want you to-”
“Follow my compass. I know. You’ve said that so many…” He stopped talking when he saw an unexpected angel walk into the room.
Well, angel was the word that came to mind since you were wearing a white dress and the light over your head illuminated you like a halo. But as his eyes swept over you, he wondered if there was a bit of a devil in you. He wouldn’t mind bringing that side out of you if you gave him the chance.
And here he used to think love at first sight was bullshit.
“Hey. Do you know her?” Bucky subtly nodded in your direction as you spoke to another woman, jealousy flaring up for a second at the thought of his best friend knowing you and not telling him. And if you knew Steve, that was that before things even started. While the blonde didn’t have much game growing up, he came into his own after his growth spurt, and everyone adored or wanted him.
Steve shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said, making Bucky’s shoulders slump in relief before his friend scrutinized him. “Jesus, are you eye fucking her? You are, aren’t you?”
Bucky wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “And I’ll keep doing it ‘til she looks at me,” he replied, wishing you’d at least spare him a glance and get a look at him in his nice suit. Maybe you weren’t into guys with tattoos and piercings, but he was certain he could change your mind if that was the case.
“How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” Steve asked. “Just introduce yourself like a gentleman and see where that goes.”
“A couple of months? Something like that.” Tearing his gaze away to glance at his inked hands, he chuckled. “You think I’m a gentleman?”
He could be dangerous and downright dirty when the occasion called for it, but just because he rode a motorcycle and covered himself in tattoos and piercings didn’t mean he treated others poorly. He was raised better than that. Even with his ex-girlfriends, things never ended because he didn’t treat them well. They just weren’t the one.
“We both know you are. Sometimes,” Steve answered, smirking as a beat passed. “And she’s looking your way.”
Bucky’s head snapped up to find you looking right at him with a curious stare. You had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Which was nothing compared to your smile. It was like watching the sun slowly rise to meet the day.
Fuck, he was being sappy. You ruined him with a single stare, and he wanted to ruin you in return. Make it so you wouldn’t want another man.
You whispered something to the woman beside you before she nudged you forward and he realized Steve pushed him to move, too. It only took three more steps before he was right in front of you, the gentle smell of your sweet perfume filling his nostrils. Need slammed into his body as you smiled again, and he actually felt the blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils widened.
If Steve thought he was eye fucking you before…
“Hey,” he said, his voice raspier than usual.
“Hi,” you said. It was a voice he could listen to for hours and he wondered what it would sound like when you said his name.
“I’m Bucky.” He took a smaller step closer, trying his damnedest to block out any other man around him so you’d keep those pretty eyes on him.
You introduced yourself, too, and it was a name he would never forget. “I like your tattoos,” you added almost shyly. Almost.
If he had his way, you’d see the rest of them soon enough. “Thanks,” he smiled, holding one hand up to show you. “Dressed like this, I bet you think I’m part of the mob.” After getting dressed and adding the gold jewelry, even he thought for a split second he looked like a mobster.
“Are you or is that information I can’t be privy to?” you asked, making him chuckle. You didn’t skip a beat, and he liked that.
“Not part of the mob, but I am part of a motorcycle club,” he replied. He wore his patch with pride and that didn’t seem to scare you, which was good. “I also own a bar.” He didn’t know why added that part. You didn’t ask and he didn’t want to brag, but there he was.
“So, you ride a motorcycle, and you own a bar?” You glanced back at your friend to ask her, “Do you mind if I…”
“I’m good. You two talk,” your friend smiled, giving Bucky an encouraging wink. He looked back to find that Steve walked away, too.
You smiled as you faced Bucky again. “Well, I’m happy to hear more about either of those things if you have time.”
“Yeah.” A lopsided smile appeared before he could stop it. “I got time,” he said. All the time in the world.
Over the next hour, the two of you stayed close together and talked in between looking at Steve’s pieces. He told you he was there to support Steve and talked a little bit more about the bar he owned. A hole in the wall kind of place he fixed up. While he wasn’t a big drinker, he loved making them for his regulars, and his profession allowed him to get away with all the tattoos.
“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled before it faltered. “If that’s okay.”
He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but his heart raced, and he wanted to see you smile again. “I’ll hold you to that,” he teased. “What about you? What do you do for work?”
You told him that you were a blood bank nurse and still fairly new to the area. While you didn’t have too many friends nearby, you liked your neighborhood and the one friend you had made invited you to the gallery since she was an art enthusiast. You also let it slip that you were single upon your move here, which he was happy to hear since he was, too, but he didn’t miss the note of sadness in your voice.
He could help fix it if you were lonely.
“I’m not seeing anyone either,” he stated.
You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t have an old lady?” His eyes went right to your lip when he bit it. “That is the correct term of endearment, right?”
“That’s right,” he said, his eyes soft. “Both of those things are right.”
You bit your lip again and he wasn’t sure if you were purposely trying to entice him, but now he wanted to bite your lip. “So, do you do anything for fun outside of riding and work?”
He almost groaned when you said “riding” and he had to shake his head to keep his mind from drifting. He couldn’t think of you being on his bike with your arms wrapped tight around him or you riding him or anything like that. “Well…”
He explained that he wrote a bit in his spare time outside of work and the club. It was a hobby mostly, but it would be a dream come true to get his work out there one day. If not, that was okay, too, because he had a decent life and didn’t need much. His bike, his brothers.
But to have an old lady…
“Maybe I could read…” you frowned when you saw the time. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. I should get going,” you said, disappointment filling both of you.
“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. The two of you were having a nice talk, and he hadn’t had a chance to ask about your hobbies yet. “It’s still kinda early. Do you really have to go?” he asked, realizing just how desperate he sounded. God, if the prospects could hear him right now… He just didn’t want the night to end.
“Yeah, I do. I’m actually working a blood drive tomorrow and could use the rest,” you said, smiling sadly. He felt like an ass for asking you to stay when you had work to do. “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about it, but you’re welcome to stop by if you want to donate. I always have this fear that people won’t show, which I realize sounds ridiculous.”
Bucky mentally kicked his ass for not knowing about a local blood drive. He was usually more on top of those sorts of things. “Where’s it at?” You gave the location and time, which was all he needed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.
And every single club member would be there, too, if they knew what was good for them.
“Really?” you smiled, your hand bumping his when you turned to face him. “You’ll go?”
He let his fingers brush yours and he smiled to himself when he felt the light shiver. “Of course, doll.”
“Doll?” you giggled. He hoped he didn’t offend you. “I hope you show,” you added in a small voice, your gaze focused on the ground.
Frowning a bit, he wondered if you didn’t believe him. Did someone let you down before? “If I say I’ll be there…” He lifted your chin, so you’d look into his eyes. He needed you to see the truth in them. “I’ll be there.”
You exhaled, staring deeply into his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you whispered.
He grudgingly released you, knowing he had to. Besides, if he kept touching you, there was a good chance he’d pin you against the wall and show you what a work of art you were. “Good night,” he whispered, watching you go back to your friend. She linked her arm with yours as you glanced back, keeping your eyes on Bucky until you were out of sight.
He exhaled, mentally kicking his ass again. Why the fuck didn’t he ask for your number? You two hit it off, and you wanted to see him at least in some capacity beyond the blood drive, right?
Steve made a beeline for him as he stayed rooted to the spot. “It looks like you two hit it off. You know you didn’t even say hi to Chris or Sam or-”
“We’re going to a blood drive tomorrow,” he cut in. He hoped people would show, but he gave you his word he’d be there, and the club was all about giving back to the community.
The blonde’s eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Blood drive. Tomorrow. Everyone,” he said, giving his friend a hard stare. “You’re the president. Make it happen.”
“You’re the vice president, which means you supervise plans for club events or gatherings. That includes last minute things,” he pointed out, his eyebrows shooting up as Bucky got his phone out and typed quickly. “You’re serious about this?”
“Is it too much to say, ‘You better fucking be there or you’ll pay for it later’?”
The blonde grinned. A shit-eating, knowing grin, and he wanted to smack him. “This is all for her, isn’t it?”
Bucky sighed. He hadn't expected to meet someone so perfect tonight. “She’s a nurse and I wanna help. Besides, it’s good for the community and you’re all about that shit.” And he had to make a better impression after not asking for your number. “Will you at least promise you’ll be there?”
“To watch my whipped best friend fawn over a pretty nurse? Hell yeah.”
“Beautiful,” he corrected him. “She’s beautiful.”
And while Bucky would fawn over you tomorrow, he also hoped he’d get your number.
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So, what do we think so far? Part of this writing style was slightly different for me, but I like how it turned out! I still need to give this reader a nickname and the AU a name, but this is a start. I can't wait for the whole club to show up at the blood drive. I also have something silly and cute planned for these two. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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xo-adeline · 3 days ago
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"Inked forever..."
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⋆°• ☁︎ - Tattoo artist!Kaiser Feat. Michael Kaiser AN: I just love the idea of Tattoo artist Kaiser... so accept this as my brain rot (Also very heavily basing this off when I got my tattoo, and my tattoo, I'm sorry!!!) (Why did I actually kinda cook with this...)
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The sound of machines whirring and the constant looking into the other area of the people getting tattooed made you question so much. Would it hurt? Well duh. Should you really be doing this? What would people think of you if you did? The thoughts started vanishing when you were finally called up to the front desk as they showed you the paper with the design on it. Normally the artist would do it, but since he was busy preparing and finishing up something else he wasn’t able to. But when you finally saw it, the drawing was stunning. It had taken inspiration from the piece of art you had found when scrolling the internet and made it that much better. The way the vines wrapped around, and the way the roses were a little bigger but still had an elegant look to them. It was even better than the picture. It was perfect. With a happy nod they took the paper back to the artist and told you he’d be done soon.
It was about 10 more minutes when the person he was just working on had paid and left, and all there was left was a few more minutes until you had actually seen the artist and he was able to permanently draw on you. Now that you were thinking about it, it kinda sounded weird. Letting a total stranger draw on you, and you have to keep that drawing forever? I mean you didn’t even know him, how was that supposed to work? Which brought you back to thinking about how you had even stumbled upon him.
The many pictures of tattoos had faded into your feeds, weather it was adds, or just scrolling on pintrest, instagram, and hell even tiktok! There was no escaping tattoo ideas. Well that was until you found this one page on instagram. Countless pictures had flooded your view all of them even more impressive then the last, weather it was flowers, humans, characters, even just little designs, they were flawless. Maybe it was just feeding into the idea more and more when you kept seeing more of his work pop up day after day. After the 2nd week of the art popping up you decided that maybe this was the universe telling you it was a good idea and you should just suck it up, and get that tattoo you’ve always been wanting. So you reached out to the artist via the email in the instagram bio, and within a few weeks there you were sitting in the tattoo parlor waiting for this man to call you back.
That was one of the only things however you didn’t see. Sitting in the waiting area of the tattoo place made you think about a lot of strange things. Maybe it was the nerve, maybe it was just because you were waiting for the pain to hit. But one thing you did know for sure, was you had never actually seen him before. All his posts online were about his tattoo works, weather it was on people, a screen, or on paper. He had never once actually posted what he looked like. You could only assume it was a guy due to his name, or at least the name on the email. Michael Kaiser. Pretty cool name if you did say so. But still, you were walking into this blind with a random dude you had never seen before. Luckily if you needed to run, there were other employee’s around…
After you had worried yourself down a rabbit hole a voice called out to you.
“(Name). Right? Kaiser.”
When you turned over your shoulder, being snapped out of your spiral there he was. The Michael Kaiser, that you now knew was a guy, standing there, holding the tattoo stencil in his hand.
“Oh uh yeah! Sorry.”
“No worries. Nervous?”
He started walking back and gave a little nod of his head signaling you to follow
“A little..”
The guy brought you back to one of the chairs, setting down the stencil on the desk next to him, a small grey table with a tattoo gun with grey wrapping around it, ink colors in little containers, and two cups, one with water and rubbing alcohol. Now that you were back there, everybody else getting something done seemed pretty chill, even if there was only 2 other people besides the artists. Nobody screaming, crying, or freaking out. I mean if nobody else was, why would you?
You got up in the chair as he sat down on the stool, looking down at the stencil, before giving a little smile. He turned around and placed it down on your ankle.
“That look good in terms of placement?”
He pointed back at a mirror and you went to check it out, seeing it was it a perfect spot you nodded on the way back, sitting back up in the chair as he started getting everything else ready. You looked away for a few minutes, seeing whatever was on the TV’s that you could perhaps look at when he was doing it so you wouldn’t feel weird staring directly at him as he worked.
“If you need a break, lemme know”
He gave a slight smirk when you turned back towards him
“Rough place for your first one.”
And then he started. At first it wasn’t to bad, a pinch here and there, but nothing you couldn’t handle, well that was until about an hour later he got to the back part of your ankle. You were grateful that you could burry you’re face into the chair at this point, because lord have mercy, did it hurt. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was a rough spot. Luckily during that you did get to have a break, heading over to pay before he finished it back up. Which was when you learned an interesting story. Apparently, due to the behind the counter people, he was actually supposed to take leave that day, and he had moved all his other appointments until you had emailed him asking about the blue rose tattoo, and that was when he had called back in saying he wasn’t actually taking leave anymore, and that they could move back appointments besides the one from when you were coming in. That’s when you remembered, on his neck, he also had a blue rose tattoo, and you finally thought about how it was weird that he had made a story post a little bit after you emailed him saying that he was gonna be out, and then suddenly he was totally open for that same day.
When you finally got back mostly everybody else had clearned out and it was just you and him, plus the people still at the front. Even if the pain was almost unbearable at this point you tried your best to keep it together and not cry, or let out any sort of noise. You knew that he was probably gonna be done soon and you just had to hold on until then, easy, right? You’ve been doing it this long.
And right you were. It was only about 20 more minutes until he finished, wiping down the rest of the color that was smeared across your ankle, before wrapping it up in a sheet of cling-wrap and some tape.
“Take it off in the morning, wash it off, and you should be good to go. Make sure to moisturize it for a few weeks until the peeling goes away and that’s it.”
He handed you a piece of paper with the same instructions, and just as you were about to leave you spoke back up.
“Hey um.. I saw on your instagram you were supposed to be off today…”
He looked back over from his station where he was cleaning up and wiping stuff down.
“Yeah. Was supposed to get out of town for a trip with some of my friends, no big deal.”
“Then why didn’t you..?”
“Because I wanted to do that tattoo of yours. Didn’t wanna let somebody else have it. Not often you see people coming in here asking for a blue rose tattoo.”
He shrugged, throwing some of papers away, before sitting back down on the stool.
“Plus, not every day a pretty girl slips into your email asking for a tattoo, and who am I to stay no?”
He gave a small laugh and a smirk took over his face.
“Hey, how about instead of your email I get your number, and maybe next time we talk it will be scheduling a time for a date and not a tattoo. I mean I’m pretty sure it’s fate we met, we already have matching tattoos~.”
A smile over took your face as you exchanged numbers with him, and in turn he walked you out. Right as you were about to get back in your car and head home, he walked over and kissed your cheek.
“You did well for your first tattoo, maybe you’re next one you’ll have my initials~”
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wisecura · 12 hours ago
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Sheets
megumi fushiguro x fem-reader
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p.8  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.11
p.10
Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside your moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.
AN: can I make it up to you with a slightly longer chapter? please? sorry if this is a bit wordy, but enjoy. the next few chapters will have more momentum and movement. I'm still debating how messed up I want this story to be-- i tend to lean into the dark fic lines. i have a rough outline but....
warnings: this story may cover sensitive and uncomfortable topics. please read at your own risk, violence, lashings, blood, mental breakdowns, yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), hints at inappropriate thoughts, toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.
thoughts and time changes
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Lately, you’ve found yourself growing unexpectedly closer to Toji. 
There’s a subtle… warmth in him now that wasn’t there before, though he still remains quiet, never prying—and it all started after you returned from your clan house battered and bruised. When he was surprisingly gentle as he wordlessly patched you up. Yet, despite this newfound…what? fondness?—his frequent absences still plagued the house, never lingering longer than necessary, and more often than not, It was still just you and Megumi.
Megumi returned home for the summers—with that first one standing out as particularly difficult to navigate. 
The two of you fell back into that familiar closeness, as if the strained conversation from before had never happened. As if he hadn't ever avoided you in the first place. He never spoke about it, opting to steer clear from any conversation that seemed too personal. Yet, this left you with a lingering uncertainty that seemed to hang over every interaction—never knowing if he might suddenly pull away or how his mood might change—keeping you constantly on edge around him.
And how could you bring it up? No, you’d much rather keep things peaceful—safe, between the two of you. 
Despite all of your “concerns”, he slipped back into his touchy, almost affectionate habits—perhaps even more so than before, seemingly fine for the most part. The anger and blatant irritation that once defined him, present in his every interaction with Toji, had given way to a stoic calmness—a neutrality that left you feeling a bit happier. He changed so much, yet felt so familiar in so many ways.
And it was that same composure that made him so hard to read, leaving you endlessly guessing at what he didn't say. You definitely can't say you knew him as well as you did before.
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Megumi’s thoughts drifted back to his first year at Jujutsu High.
A plethora of new faces and challenges—meeting his classmates had been, to put it mildly, eventful. There was Gojo Satoru, for one. His arrogant and self-absorbed teacher, who seemed far too amused by his own power and status as the strongest sorcerer. Easily the most skilled, he pushed Megumi all year to become a better version of himself, taking an interest in his background with the Zenin Clan. Annoying as it was, Megumi had to admit—thanks to the blue eyed freak, he understood his potential far better than he ever had before. 
Then there was Yuji Itadori. The reckless idiot who, in a moment of pure desperation and absolute insanity, swallowed one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers. Even now, Megumi couldn’t shake the guilt. If only he’d been faster, stronger—he might’ve stopped it. Might’ve saved Yuji from a path that tore his life apart.
Yet, despite it all, he became what Megumi would consider a friend. Easily the biggest doof he'd ever met—somehow managing to be both absurdly reckless and irritatingly good-hearted, resembling you in a weird way. Despite knowing him for such a short time, they’d already faced more together than most do in a lifetime.
And meeting Nobara Kugasaki. A girl he initially thought of as only loud and annoying, proved to be more than capable in more ways than one. Somehow, she managed to grow on him, though not without constantly provoking his every last nerve. Even worse than Toji did—a feat he hadn't thought possible.
He’d been careful not to tell you too much, as hard as it was when he saw your face waiting for him the moment he walked through that front door—a sight for sore eyes if there ever was one. His first year had been chaotic, after all, but he hadn’t lied to you… just carefully sidestepped the truths. You poked and prodded for answers, but he remained evasive, selectively sharing only what he thought was safe for someone as precious as you.
Those text messages you sent? He couldn’t bring himself to respond much—not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t stand the thought of making you worry. Your messages were always so short, almost hesitant—yet somehow, impossibly cute. Strangely endearing in a way that made him smile without meaning to. And they had him staring at his phone far longer than he’d ever admit. Long enough for Yuji to notice, of course, grinning as he tried to snatch the phone from Megumi’s hands, teasing him mercilessly about some "mysterious girlfriend."
There was no way in hell he’d let Sukuna’s vessel or his creepy teacher know about you—let alone meet you. Gojo probably had some inkling about your presence in his life—after all, who in Jujutsu society wasn’t at least vaguely aware of an arranged marriage? Especially one involving someone he had only recently discovered was as much of a social pariah as his father. But even if Gojo knew, Megumi was certain it was only through word of mouth alone, and he intended to keep it that way. You were a part of his life that he refused to let this chaos touch.
But they were good people—people who made him question everything he thought he knew about himself. What kind of person did he want to become? What kind of lives did he want to protect? The answer always circled back to you. You were his constant, the standard by which he measured everything. Someone who deserved better, someone who had endured far more than anyone should, and someone he would never stop trying to be worthy of.
He hated the unfairness of it all. Despised it—the sheer injustice of everything you had endured. The crushing expectations your clan had forced upon you, the suffocating marriage to his father, the unrelenting sense of entrapment that shadowed your every step. None of it was right. And the more he learned from Gojo, the angrier he became. A power system designed to crush those deemed weak or inferior, wielded to maintain a twisted hierarchy.
The true difference between you and Megumi was your golden heart—your unwavering care and strength, even in the face of how he knew you were likely treated within your clan. And yet, it was him who was being praised, lauded for qualities he wasn’t sure he deserved credit for.
That first year had taught him plenty. He’d solidified his choices, made his intentions clear, fully understanding what he was stepping into. And Megumi wasn’t just reflecting on these wrongs—he was determined to set them right, no matter the cost.
To him, you didn’t belong to anyone else—least of all his father. You were his. The very thought of you leaving, of slipping beyond his reach, sent a sharp, desperate ache through his chest. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. He’d free you—not just from the chains of your family or his father, but so you could truly be free. Free to choose him. To stay by his side. Always. Forever. Exactly where you belonged.
All he needed was for you to wait for him. Just a little longer.
After that long, grueling first year at school, Megumi finally got to see your beautiful face again. The way your smile lit up the room, the teasing lilt in your voice as you poked fun at him—it was enough to completely unravel him inside. It quietly reassured him that you still cared, easing the self-consciousness that had lingered since the day he left. Somehow, despite everything, it still felt the same. Like nothing had changed. Like home.
He had to restrain himself when he came back—the overwhelming urge to pull you close, to kiss you like he’d always dreamt of, nearly getting the better of him. But no—he wouldn’t risk it. He couldn’t scare you away, not when having you near again felt like the only thing keeping him steady.
And he didn’t want you worrying about him, either. The probing questions you had? He’d place those on the backburner for now. Maybe even forever. That wasn’t what he needed from you. The thought of seeing your broken expression, your worry etched into every line of your face, was enough to haunt him. You were his light, his solace—and he’d do whatever it took to keep it that way.
Since coming back, Megumi had been careful—deliberate—in carving out his place in your life. Every move he made, every word he spoke, was measured and planned, more so than ever before. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, he had begun reshaping the way you saw him. He dropped small, seemingly innocent comments here and there, gently steering your attention toward him and away from anyone else—especially his father. Subtlety was key, he figured.
Every look, every gesture, was a calculated effort to blur the boundaries between you, to shift the nature of your relationship without you even realizing it. He wasn’t content with simply being part of your life—he was determined to make himself the center of it.
He worked tirelessly. 
He regretted pulling away before, but if school had taught him anything, it was to cherish these fleeting moments with you. And each day, it seemed his efforts were paying off. You turned to him more often now, seeking his presence, his reassurance. Every question you asked, every flash of that radiant smile, felt like a step closer to what he wanted—to what he needed.
But it still wasn’t enough. He could tell you didn’t see him the way he saw you, didn’t feel the same pull that consumed him. The way he craved you. It ate away at him, the frustration building with every stolen glance, every moment he found himself aching for more. More than your smile, more than your laughter—he wanted all of you, and the thought of waiting drove him mad. He wanted your everything.
At least your eyes were still on him. At least you still cared. For now, that would have to be enough. 
But he wasn’t going to stop. He couldn’t. You’d realize it eventually—you had to. And when you did, he’d be there, ready to claim the place in your heart that was always meant for him.
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Before you knew it, Megumi was heading back to school, leaving the house quieter than usual. You’d been bracing yourself for another inevitable summons from your clan, surprised by their unusual silence. It was an uncharacteristic delay, one that left you both relieved and unsettled.
When the message finally arrived, it was as if the air grew heavier around you. Steeling yourself, you went, prepared for the worst, knowing all too well the weight that came with their demands. The possibility for retaliation. No. the absolute for retaliation. 
As expected, you were met with the same barrage of insults, the words slicing through you with their usual sharpness. But this time, there were no lashings, no physical punishment to endure. The absence of that particular cruelty felt like a small, bittersweet victory. You carried the weight of their scorn on your way home but couldn’t help feeling a tinge of relief that it hadn’t been worse.
Toji was home that day—a surprise that caught you off guard, especially since you’d texted him earlier about your meeting with the clan. He’d mentioned being tied up on another one of his long-winded trips, at least for the next few days. Yet here he was.
He greeted you with his usual detached demeanor, but his eyes betrayed him, scanning you with unnerving precision—a deliberate, assessing once-over that made your stomach twist. Before you could fully process it, he stepped closer, his presence effortlessly commanding the space between you. Instinctively, you recoiled in surprise, but it didn’t deter him.
Without a word, his hand moved with an almost lazy confidence, slipping under the back of your shirt. The warmth of his palm against your skin sent a jolt through you, heat rushing to your cheeks as the intimacy of the gesture froze you in place. You couldn’t move, caught entirely off guard by his boldness, the casual intensity of his touch leaving you breathless and unsure of what to say.
“Relax,” he murmurs, a teasing lilt coloring his voice. His fingers trailed lightly across your skin, as though searching for something. It didn’t take long for him to pause, clearly not finding what he was looking for. With a quiet chuckle, he pulled his hand back, a smirk curving his lips as his eyes locked onto yours.
“Clean this time, huh? Guess they decided to play nice.”
You couldn’t tell if his words were meant to mock or comfort, but the way his eyes lingered on you left your pulse racing, your breath catching in your throat. He stepped back, the teasing edge in his demeanor—his gaze, softening ever so slightly before he turned away, leaving you rooted to the spot.
The warmth of his palm still clung to your skin, your mind spinning, cheeks burning a vivid red. He’d never been this handsy before, but you knew exactly what he was searching for. What you couldn’t quite grasp was why it seemed to matter to him. Then again, when had Toji ever made sense to you? 
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You and Megumi had been exchanging texts more frequently than ever. It wasn’t something you had expected, but it started after he seemed to notice how upset his silence left you. The habit picked up when he returned to school for his second year. Whether it was guilt or something else driving his newfound consistency, you couldn’t deny the quiet relief that warmed your chest each time your phone pinged with his name.
Megumi’s birthday came and went, and for the first time, you felt comfortable enough to text him without hesitation, inviting him home for a small celebration. "Bring your new friends!" you added hopefully, sprinkling in an emoji or two to lighten the tone.
His reply came swiftly, cutting through your excitement—though, deep down, you should’ve expected it.
"I can’t. I have a mission coming up. I won’t be able to make it."
The disappointment settled heavily in your chest, but you tried not to push. The memory of his last birthday lingered in your mind, making you wonder if he avoided these moments on purpose. Megumi was never the social type, but you couldn’t help wanting to meet his friends, to see the people he spent so much of his time with. And, if you were honest, you missed him. The house always felt quieter, emptier, without him around.
Later that evening, however, your phone buzzed with an unexpected surprise. A picture.
It was Megumi, his expression as stoic and neutral as ever. Standing beside him was a pink-haired boy who couldn’t have been more of a contrast—wide-eyed, grinning ear to ear, brimming with an energy that practically leapt off the screen. The backdrop was lively, vibrant, a fleeting glimpse into the life Megumi was living far away from you. 
You lingered on the photo, your fingers brushing lightly over the screen. For all your probing and insistence on wanting to meet his friends, wanting to see him again, you were surprised he’d sent anything at all. Megumi had always been evasive, but this felt like a compromise—his way of meeting you halfway.
He looked… different. He had been looking different for a while now—since arriving at that school. Once again, as always when you saw him, you couldn’t help but notice how much he’d grown. He wasn’t just older; he was changing. Growing up. Making friends. Breaking free from his shell. Enjoying his life in a way you hadn’t seen before.
For a fleeting moment, pride swelled in your chest—warm and undeniable—only to be chased by a bittersweet ache. He was different, and though you were happy for him, the realization of how little he shared with you felt suffocatingly lonely.
And you couldn't help but feel a little…jealous. 
The next summer passes much the same, uneventful but filled with moments of quiet reflection. Your clan has kept their distance physically, but their questions have grown intense, more persistent. They never hit you again, though the threat was always there. Prodding for details you refuse to give, their subtle questions suggesting they have something more planned—something you can’t quite decipher yet.
When Megumi returns, it’s impossible to ignore how much he’s changed toward you. At seventeen now, he towers over you—maybe even reaching Toji’s height. His lean frame is noticeably stronger, and his presence feels heavier, more grounded. He still leans on you in his quiet, familiar way—that same energy that had always lingered between you stubbornly remained. But now, it felt… different. A little harder to ignore. A little harder to navigate.
It catches you off guard sometimes, especially when his eyes seem to linger on you just a bit too long. You’d always shrugged it off—those previous years, Toji’s words, even Megumi’s actions. A crush. That’s all it was. A fleeting, innocent crush. One you never addressed, one you assumed he’d outgrow. He’d figure out soon enough where you stood in his life.
But there was something unspoken in his gaze now, something that left your heart uneasy and your thoughts spiraling. You couldn’t help but think back to his bedroom, the night before he first left for school—the way the air had felt heavy, the unspoken tension hanging there ever since. His promise to protect you. That anger of you dismissing him. 
That third summer at home felt different—unsettlingly so. The reminder of how much he’d grown. The uncomfortable realization of how much you’d come to lean on him in return. But most of all, the subtle shift in how he acted around you, how he spoke to you, how his presence seemed to take up more space.
Your relationship with him had already felt off before. What could you even do about it now? Especially when he wasn't going to talk about it first?
Yes, that summer was a strange one.
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Megumi was determined to win you over.
He was close—so close. With just one more year left until graduation, his plans were nearly complete. All that remained was you.
But despite the way you turned to him more often, leaned on him in ways that only fueled the fire of his obsession, your affection stubbornly stayed confined within the boundaries of platonic care. And for Megumi, that wasn’t enough—not even close.
But despite the way you turned to him more often, leaned on him in ways that only fueled the fire of his obsession, your affection stubbornly stayed confined within the boundaries of platonic care. And for Megumi, that wasn’t enough—not even close.
So he made sure you noticed. Made sure you saw just how much he’d grown.
He began wearing less clothing around the house, casually shirtless as he passed you in the hall, his lean, sculpted frame brushing just close enough for you to feel him. Bare skin ghosting against yours in fleeting touches that lingered in your mind. His voice dipped lower in the mornings, rich and deep as he greeted you, leaning in just a little too close as he reached for one thing or another. The subtle pink that crept into your cheeks didn’t escape him—and he enjoyed every second of it.
His touches grew more deliberate, yet always subtle enough to avoid suspicion. Fingers grazing your waist as he passed, lingering just a beat too long on your arm, or a hand ghosting over the nape of your neck in what seemed like an accident. But none of it was accidental.
It was all calculated—every movement, every look, designed to pull your attention, to fluster you, to shift how you saw him. Like a predator circling its prey, he was patient, methodical, and utterly focused. 
And you… you were quite the prize. Every day, he admired you, every glance fueling the fire that burned inside him. The more he pushed, the more flustered you seemed to get, each reaction feeding his obsession. But no matter how carefully he set his traps, how hard he tried to shift the dynamic, you remained painfully oblivious.
If you noticed the changes in him, you didn’t let on—offering only the small, well-meaning comments of someone watching a child grow. But Megumi couldn’t ignore the cracks in your composure, the way your voice faltered or how your cheeks burned when he walked around shirtless. Because really—what mother blushes that much when her stepkid walks by?
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
But Megumi wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.
As the summer wore on, his patience began to wane. Subtlety had carried him far, but now it felt too slow, too restrained. His tactics shifted, his determination sharpening. He wanted something more, something that would bring him closer to you—something impossible to ignore.
p.9
p.11
come home
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inc0mple · 2 days ago
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🗝️ ”Keys Are People, Too” 100 Chapter Q&A ⭐️ (ongoing!)
(Last edit: 12/20 10:40 CST)
Hi! :) If y’all don’t know me my name is Inco (it’s not but shh) and I write a fanfiction for Cinderella Boy called Keys Are People, Too. It’s not finished, it’s ongoing and rapidly approaching 100 chapters XD (yes we are like four chapters away but shh rounding) (I PROMISE WE’RE ALMOST TO THE LAST ACT). So because of an ask from @isitamia and, we’ll say the 100 chapter milestone… tada Q&A??
I don’t know how many people are going to engage with this but that’s totally okay :) I love ranting about stuff and I’ve put a lot of thought into this story, so it would be cool to have an outlet to answer some questions where they don’t get forgotten in AO3 comments. And if you guys also have general questions about writing advice/things like that, I am not an expert but I do also like talking about stories.
So please ask! I’m not planning to close this at any specific time—I was thinking y’all could comment questions under this post or via reblogs (I might miss them in reblogs though) and I will edit this post to answer them, and also reply to you so you know your question is answered. This might get like 10 notes and that’s fine haha (I have zero idea how many people regularly read my story beyond the ones who leave comments), but if there are a lot of questions I’ll try to categorize them. Really just a place to drop info for fun :)
Q&A below ⬇️
I tried to make it organized. It's... kind of organized. Kind of.
Plot/Characters
"What key archetype isn't one of the siblings? Do we get to know their archetypes soon?" asked by @spookieee28 12/20
I'm not gonna say the archetypes at this point in time because it risks spoilers. You will find out by the end of the story and hopefully by that points all of the archetypes should be relatively clear. Some have already been mentioned like the chapter "Heralds and Thieves" for Jade and Cooper, I think (?) Cora has been mentioned as the Innocent archetype, etcetera.
"Which character do you struggle writing the most and which feels easier for you, if you have preferences?" asked by @isitamia 12/20
"Do you ever struggle with keeping Cinderella Boy's canon characters in character?" asked by @isitamia 12/20
I'll answer both of these together. Chase is pretty easy for me because I just channel chaotic gremlin energy and it seems to work. Buddy is OKAY although I am struggling right now making him vulnerable while still retaining him Buddy-ish-ness if that makes sense? Deacon is just Deacon... I am sorry, I feel like I don't really do anything to characterize him, he's just there as a sounding board XD I will say- I daydream situations for CB ALL THE TIME which gives me a lot of comfortability with the canon characters and considering what they would do and say and how they would react. I do have a little bit of difficulty characterizing the human keys so I just kinda went like "oh WELL that's because, UUHHHH, the key siblings don't match the keys exactly! That's it that's the answer!" because I felt like Silver wasn't quite Silver-ish and stuff. As for struggling writing the most I have two main answers.
BRONTE. For those who maybe haven't read this but are scrolling through it anyway, or aren't there yet, Bronte is the "human" version of Bronze and I kinda accidentally eliminated him from the story until like... the 80th chapte ror something like that. I had a lot of trouble actually writing his dialogue and scenes with Chase. It just did not have Bronze's snarky energy. So that was tough and I feel bad because I really feel like I did not do him justice :c
DUKE RAVENELL!!!!!! Ravenell hates me. He gives me so much trouble primarily because I just plunked him in at the beginning and didn't give him a real personality beyond a few vague notions. I've really had to sculpt his character as I went and it's especially difficult because Ravenell is intended to do a lot of plot device-ing. He perpetuates a lot of themes in the story and he is a HUGE character foil to Chase, because he often reflects the opposite of Chase's (and Idonea's) values and intentions. I want him to be morally grey and I am constantly fighting a BATTLE with this man to make sure he isn't too likeable or too hateable. I posted on Tumblr like a week ago really just asking for a diagnostic and the response made my day because people are all OVER the place about this man, some people love him, some will never forgive him, some are like "he's alright but there's something off about him and I can't help but distrust him" and others are like "I know he keeps making mistakes but I can't help but trust him" and I LOVE IT. Fortunately I think he's finally in a place perception-wise where I want him. I want the confusion. So badly. Only now I have to continue to fight this stupid tug-o'-war to keep him properly dividing until the end of the story XD
Behind the scenes
"How did you come up with the plot for KAPT? Was it just a little thought that popped up in your head one day, or did you have like inspiration or something?" asked by @xcitrix 12/20
"Did you have an idea for how you wanted the story to end when you first started writing or did you come up with more ideas while working on it?" asked by @lapileaf 12/20
I'mma answer both of these (and any others if they are asked) in kinda the same go if that's alright. In August I was wanting to write some fanfiction for CB, and one idea rotating in my head was, what if Chase went into a nonfiction book? Like he thought it the most effective way to study for a history project, or he saw a mention of Ex Libris, or something. So, completely directionless, I drabbled out the first chapter of KAPT where they find the book in the museum and... adopt it. And then it sat there in my Google Docs for like two weeks while I worked on a different fanfiction, Violets and Chains. I tried to return to it a little bit and got through the first anthology chapter where they're in the Chartesia battle, but that too did not have a plot behind it, I was like "myeh... trebuchets... uh... and now there's a guy... oh maybe they're PRISONERS..." And then brain did not work and I gave up. Eventually got myself together, BS-ed the rest of the scene, and then sat down and essentially ranted to myself about potential ideas until I figured out the plot.
More ideas have kept cropping up as I've worked on it. There are certain puzzle pieces that are foreshadowed in even teh first ten chapters that I didn't even mean to foreshadow because I hadn't thought of the yet - the plot was generally mapped out but has defintely been refined and added to as time goes on. Eventually you get into the flow of a story and everything just starts clicking into place, like you yourself are theorizing about an external work. Keep in mind that because I am publishing it as I write each chapter, KAPT is a first draft, and I have to hatch out plot points and main parts of the story as I write and make my best effort to recover any loose threads or things like that. It's a fun exercise!
"Do you plan to stick to the story you have already till the end or is there a possiblity you'll have to change some things if we get to know more about canon Ex Libris/Buddy lore while it's still ongoing?" asked by @iwikpines 12/20
There are some new bits of information that are kinda iffy for KAPT, but ultimately because KAPT takes place inside a book most of the Buddy/Ex Libris lore is not applicable. Regarding Buddy's situation I am going to go ahead like I was planning to originally, and I'll add a disclaimer when time permits. I don't think either way throws a wrench in the plans too much but I would rather be confident in the themes I've already set up as opposed to trying to hastily recover new lore in the last third of the story, if that makes sense.
"How did you come up with your ocs? I know some, like Jaime, come from another original story of yours ... but what about characters like Ravenell, Galeus, and Rose? What inspired you? How did you decide their personaltiy, their struggles? Did you take inspiration from yourself for anyone, similar to how Punko took inspiration from herself for Chase? Do you follow any specific process to come up with ocs, like follow a list, scheme, or coming up with hypothetical scneraios?" asked by @isitamia 12/20
A lot of the characters are cameos from a passion project I've been working on for years called IFI (no I will not tell you what it stands for) - Jaime and emma are from there, as well as several others including Alexei, Nishan, Mattheo, Kelitia, Indie (the Marchioness), King Aarius, and King Olivyn. So those are just plunked in and then Jaime decided to become part of the plot. As for the other original characters made specifically for KAPT, they just kinda got plopped in for one reason or another (I wanted Rose to connect to the Chartesia lore, Ravenell to have a foil for Chase, and Galeus because, well, there had to be a king) and then I slowly worked to build connections, themes, and character. Often times I don't specifically sit down and think "this character will be this way", it just emerges naturally from their dialogue, like I'm chiseling something out that was already in the stone like an archeologist, as opposed to carving my own new sculpture. I've always written that way and it makes it difficult when I am required to add structure to my writing or explain why I do things the way I do. I will say it is all VERY inspired from my own life and beliefs; Rose exists as a confidante in the story, and many of her more preachy dialogue pieces are things I'm getting out of my system. So yeah, not really a lot of structure to it, they just appear... and I figure them out as I go... most of my characters are in some way facets of myself or the way I percieve life. As I get more experienced with writing I'm sure I'll be more intentional with them, but for now, they are Athena and I am Zeus.
"How do you post daily" (kind of) asked by @isitamia 12/20
To give an actual answer for this because I know it's a lot to post a 2-4k chapter PER DAY - I am a student and have a LOT of downtime in class where I can't really do anything but write. That is how. Also, I have taught myself to be a prolific writer because that is the thing in my life I can always rely on when other things are unstable.
"How did you extend the story so far? I love the plot and it's kinda insane how you were able to develop it so much, at this point it's a full novel and I kinda live for it LOL. Also how long would you consider one act?" asked by @shyve3 12/20
Two parts to this question, I will answer them both;
I didn't mean to. I am really bad about being concise; I can't. When I write and get passionate about a story there's so much I want to stay and I can rarely fit it into what most people consider a pallatable length. I just get going and... idk... unstoppable force or something lol. And yes KAPT is at least the length of a typical trilogy XD ITS BEEN FIVE MONTHS
Regarding the act question, I ORIGINALLY said KAPT would be three acts, with the first ending when Chase goes down into Rose's "tomb" for the first time, the second ending with the Bronte part, and the third being the final one. It is actually more like four now, with the "second" act split into two at the masquerade ball. We are so close to being onto the actual final act, which should be a 4th of the total fic, so we have maybe 30 chapters left (?) (we'll see lol)
I don't have a specific length, it's just the way the story tends to ebb and flow if that makes sense?
General stuff
"Do you have any advice as a writer?" asked by @iwikpines 12/20
I AM SO BAD ABOUT THIS because I really do just go type type type and words appear. I know there's more to it than that but I've spent a lot of time writing and not a lot of time learning how to write so I have the experience without the actual education behind it. Write what you care about :) I mean NO DUH but like - your best stories will come from the heart. You will find prolificness (is that a word?) in PASSION. If I didn't care about Cinderella Boy or the themes I'm trying to communicate in KAPT would I spent my days writing a chapter a day ABSOLUTELY FRIGGIN NOT I'd be writing a different story. So yeah - write what you love and your audience will find you. What the world needs is a buncha people doing what they love really well because it's what they care about. Also, I didn't include your full comment here, but I am excited to read your fanfiction! <3 Please post it on Tumblr when you also post it elsewhere!
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zanarkandfayth · 2 days ago
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I'm just answering these because I want to, and skipping the ones that wouldn't be relevant or I don't feel like answering lmao
01. How many fics have you worked on since January? Hmm, five? I finished the Noct & Gladio one, I've been working on the rewrite of the aftermath one, I started the one inspired by @quartzguts fic Lost Signal (go fucking read this if you haven't), I did some more backstory for the college au, and I edited the secret one.
02. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? I've been trying to do a sliiiightly closer POV than before. I think it came out nicely enough in the Noct & Gladio fic. Definitely a challenge for me though.
05. What ships captured your heart? Ignoct still has my heart forever and always, but I've definitely had a growing fondness for Gladnoct. More platonic than romantic but I don't mind the romantic.
07. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year? I mean I guess the Noct & Gladio fic is the first time I've written a fic centered on the two of them. I thought about writing a fic for Sword AF, and for Breath of the Wild, but I didn't. I'm unlikely to for either fandom, tbh. Too many for ffxv to focus on.
08. What fic meant the most to you to write? Aftermath fic, even though I'm not finished with it. I've been basically writing it since 2019 and it's the most in-depth fic I've ever written and I've put so much fucking work into it and it's over 600K I'm super proud of it even if it's slowly killing me and the fandom will be 100% dead by the time I'm done.
09. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on? college au, my self-indulgent beloved. I have no idea if I'll ever successfully write you, but I love you nonetheless.
10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing? lmao I only finished the Noct & Gladio one so I guess that by default.
11. What fic was the most difficult to write? the one inspired by Lost Signal. I have it all plotted out and I'm excited to write it but fuuuuck when I tried back in the summer it was not cooperating. and then writer's block just came knocking in general. I've got one finished chapter and I low-key hate it so I'm trying to ease back into things with working on my rewrite of aftermath fic before I attempt this fic again.
12. What fic was the easiest to write? I mean the Noct & Gladio one was pretty easy to write once I kicked my own ass and stopped procrastinating on the battle scene lol.
14. What were your go-to writing songs? I like to listen to a lot of EDM stuff. Especially Industrial but other stuff too. KMFDM, Assemblage 23, Lost Signal, Neuroticfish, Rotersand, Seabound, Lionhearts, Covenant, Wolfsheim, Acretongue, Michael FK... I also listened to Linkin Park and the Ori and the Blind Forest soundtrack.
15. What was the hardest fic to title? only two fics got titled this year... the secret one I ain't sharing lmao and the Noct & Gladio one, which was actually hard to title. Ameliorate. It fits but I kinda hate it ngl. I couldn't think of anything better. I still can't. It's whatever.
16. What's your favorite title of the year? the secret one. I'm so mean for it but as soon as I was done editing I knew I HAD to make that the title. I'm sorry my beloved blorbo. it was just too perfect lmao. one of my mutuals knows what I'm talking about XD it's all good.
21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story? my ass in 2019: I already wrote a lot of Noct dissociating in Under Grey Skies, I don't need to do it in aftermath fic. my ass in 2024: huh, Noct doesn't dissociate enough in this fic. soooo I guess now that's gonna be a thing. it has very much changed the story, several scenes have been changed/added for it and I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with it yet but that's why I'm writing without posting for now. wasn't expecting to do it but we'll see what happens.
22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand? no to by hand, I only sometimes do that for notes/plotting. I use scrivener <3333 I bit the bullet at the start of this year and used the money I had left from selling my car/after buying a freezer to upgrade to scrivener 3 and though I miss some things from scrivener 1, I mostly like it. I've gotten a lot more into the organisational features and it's been a godsend for making the rewrite of aftermath manageable.
25. How did you recharge between fics? Killed myself 100%ing breath of the wild. including all 900 fucking korok seeds. and then started playing tears of the kingdom with the intention of 100%ing that too but fuck me upgrading the armour was such a fucking slog even with duping diamonds for rupees and I still don't even have all of the sets collected and the koroks are more annoying this time and hhhhhhh I went back to fic to recharge from that fucking game.
28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank? @ivorydice for letting me endlessly ramble about my fics and helping me with plotting some of them. @quartzguts for writing an amazing fic that has inspired me with one of my own that I will write and finish eventually hrgh. @smallest-turtle for also letting me ramble that one time and for stabbing me in the heart with painful headcanons that made me think more about my own. literally anyone who's read my fics regardless of whether they've left kudos or comments or bookmarked them. anyone who talks to me. anyone who likes my venting as support. all my mutuals for being my mutuals even if we've never had a single interaction.
29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024? to just keep pecking away at the rewrite of aftermath fic. by the end of today I should have 38 of 62 chapters rewritten... send help T^T
30. What would you like to write next year? I just wanna finish aftermath fic for the love of god. pls. also the fic inspired by Lost Signal, and I'd like to maaaaaaaybe (big maybe) write a companion fic to the Noct & Gladio fic, showing Ignis & Prompto's hunt, but I don't actually have any ideas for it rn. so we'll see.
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A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!
How many fics have you worked on since January?
What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?
What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)
How many fandoms did you write for this year?
What ships captured your heart?
What characters captured your heart?
Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?
What fic meant the most to you to write?
What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?
What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?
What fic was the most difficult to write?
What fic was the easiest to write?
What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?
What were your go-to writing songs?
What was the hardest fic to title?
What's your favorite title of the year?
Share your favorite opening line
Share your favorite ending line
Share your favorite piece of dialogue
Share your funniest line
What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?
What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?
If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?
Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?
How did you recharge between fics?
Did you create fanworks other than fic?
How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)
If this were an awards show, who would you thank?
What's left on your to-do list for 2024?
What would you like to write next year?
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bonbonly · 3 days ago
Note
Pierre with innocent reader.
That is it
Maybe reader being estbans sister or bestie, if bestie make it so they kinda get caught?
Or make two different and do them both 🫶👹👹👹👹👹
bon's thoughts (18+) girl this is UTTERRRR filth even im surprised by this
pierre's visiting charles like he always does. he's in the living room, watching some tv with his best friend and he's surfing through some channels. charles tosses pierre a cap, and the latter places it on backwards and sighs out loud, leaning into the couch.
"i'll head over to take a shower, don't mind me," charles sighs, and gets up, leaving the room. pierre nods, still trying to pick a movie to watch when the front doorbell rings. he frowns, getting up and when he opens the door, you're standing there with a basket in your hand.
"oh, im sorry to interrupt! is charles here?"
"he just went to take a shower, might take a few minutes... who are you?" pierre asks, furrowing his brows. he glances at your outfit, a thin tank top and no bra underneath so he can see your nipples greeting him affectionately and a long skirt that makes him wonder what you're hiding under there.
"i'm his next door neighbor! i've known him since i was little!" you chirp, smiling at the man in front of you. pierre raises an eyebrow, confused as to why in the world charles never mentioned that he had a cute girl living next door to him. and if charles never mentioned you, that surely meant he didn't think much about you... which meant pierre could have you all for himself. he smiles, stepping aside to let you prance into charles' house with a grin on your face. you set the basket down on the kitchen counter, explaining to pierre that you've been baking recently and you always ask charles to taste whatever dessert you make.
"oh, i could help," he offers, and you nod your head, picking up a scone before handing it to him. it's not the best scone in the entire world, nor was it terrible. it still had lots of room for improvement. charles is drying his hair with his towel when he comes back downstairs and when he sees pierre eating the scone, he's laughing out loud,
"mon ami, unless you want to die of food poisoning what are you doing eating her food?" charles laughs and you're pouting your lips,
"i'm not that bad of a baker..." you mutter, grabbing your basket, "i made these all for your charles! pierre was nice enough to taste!"
"i'm sure pierre would like some sweeter things," charles giggles and pierre's staring at the outline of your legs underneath your skirt. yeah he definitely wanted something sweeter, much sweeter. charles leaves shortly after since he wants to spend some time with his girlfriend, but he lets pierre stay behind in his house with you.
and that's when pierre decides to spring into action. you're watching some baking videos on youtube to try and learn new recipes, but you notice pierre getting closer and closer to you on the couch.
"is everything ok?" you ask, and he nods his head,
"just a bit cold, that's all," he shrugs, and within seconds you're snuggling closer to him, tits pressed against his arm that's making him restrain every ounce of fiber in his body. no he has to wait, he has to be patient. you smile at him before turning you attention back to the screen. after some time, he clears his throat, "you know i don't understand why you watch so many baking videos."
"what do you mean?" you snap, turning your head to face him, "i want to learn to make the sweetest, most delicious treat ever!"
"oh but you already have it," he glances at you, watching you frown,
"i have it? huh? how?" you furrow your brows once more, and he's now sinking to his knees in front of you.
"oh come on, don't tell me you don't know, mon amour," he grins and you're shaking your head because you truly don't know! he sighs, fingers slipping under the band of your skirt to pull it down but you grab his wrists,
"p-pierre, what are you doing?"
"i'm going to show you the sweet treat, trust me!" he exclaims, kissing your nose before slowly taking off your entire skirt. you watch him nervously, unsure as to what he means but you did want to get this recipe down so you figure its best to shut up and listen to him. he glances up at your chest, and clicks his tongue, "ah i forgot about my other favorite treat" and he's taking your tank top off, groaning when he sees your beautiful tits just waiting to have his mouth wrapped around your areolas. he's rubbing your nipples between his fingers, pinching gently and watching you gasp out loud, wriggling out of his touch for a second,
"is this the sweet treat?" you ask, and he's giggling at your words,
"no, the sweet treat's down here!" and he's taking your panties off, watching a string of your arousal cling onto the cloth, "someone's excited..."
you don't know what he means by that but he has you spread your legs for him and positions you in a way that you're able to see your own dripping pussy.
"this! this is the sweet treat!" he smiles, and you're frowning at him, not really understanding what's going on, but his words are having some effect on you because you find your cunt getting warmer. he spits onto your cunt, the saliva dripping gracefully onto your folds which he's rubbing back and forth with his thumb. his eyes flicker to see your mouth opening in a small gasp, before he splays his tongue onto your folds, licking a very long stripe up to your clit as you begin to squirm, "oh this is so much sweeter than i imagined!"
his tongue probes around your cunt, nipping at your clit before sucking and pulling harshly. his fingers scissor in you, before his tongue joins which has you moaning out loud, hands gripping his hair to see if he can slow down a bit because it was all too much for you! you've never had gotten this intimate with anybody in your life, and here he is, feasting on the sweetest treat ever imaginable: your pretty pussy. when you cum around his fingers, he pulls back and licks his lips before looking over at you,
"open wide, a chef needs to know how to taste properly," and you listen to his orders, opening your mouth. he has you lick his fingers clean, taking him in as far as your throat can take them before you gag, "how do you taste? sweet, right?"
"y-yeah," you whisper, nodding your head.
"i think you need to taste yourself more, it'll give you good practice when you're baking," he smiles, and lifts your ass up so that your cunt is just a few inches from your face, you're practically being folded in half! he sees your hesitation for a split second, and he places his hand behind your head, gently nudging you towards your delectable treat, "you saw what i did right, mon ange? can you do that for me? just do whatever i did with my tongue."
it's a bit hard to do so with how uncomfortable the position you're in is, but you suppose there's always meant to be pain when you're learning so you lick your cunt, already moaning a bit. your tongue flicks your clit, and pretty soon you're sucking the pearl of your cunt. you pull away a couple times to moan at how good you taste and to give yourself a small break, but pierre's hand comes right back down to make sure you're tasting yourself properly. he pulls out his phone, telling you that he's keeping this for further baking sessions and you're so thankful that he cares so much about your baking journey! he's grinding his hard cock against your ass, which pushes your cunt closer to your face, allowing you to go past sucking your clit, but down to your wet hole. when you glance up for a second as your tongue is now in your gaping hole, you see pierre stroking his thick cock with a smile on his face.
"oh you're doing amazing, keep going i want to see how far you can go," and you're nodding your head, your arms holding your legs as you continue to eat yourself out. as you cum into your own mouth, pierre's coating your face with his own load and he's laughing as he's recording the entire thing, telling you that this was definitely going to be his favorite video ever.
"but remember," he warns you, burying your face in your cunt harshly, barely giving you time to breathe, "this isn't an ordinary treat, you can't share this one with charles."
you have no idea what he means but you continue to lap up your juices.
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angstywaifu · 15 hours ago
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Black Dahlia - 24. Would It Matter?
Summary: Dahlia is letting off the last of her pent up anger over Dain, when an unexpected person and interaction occurs. A/N: I know this is only like a day late, but I got caught up in the fun of last week of work for the year, and Christmas parties. But here is the next part of Dahlia. And now I'm on some time off I will try and get through some of the requests that have been coming in (I've been so bad with those, I'm so sorry!).
Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)
Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me
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The rhythmic thud of my punches hitting the bag echo around the room as I unleash the last of anger on the punching bag. A bag that I hate to admit has nearly whacked me in the face one too many times due to how hard I’ve been hitting it. My challenge with Dain had done little to simmer my anger despite how good it had felt to win. To show they no longer held power over me. So here I was, back to a habit I hadn’t partaken in since being here.
”Stupid…. Dain,” I mutter between punches. “Stupid.. family name… Stupid… Expectations!” The right hook I lands causes the bag to swing violently, whipping back towards me.
I raise my hands, bracing for the impact that never comes. I pause, my chest heaving as I open my eyes, a large hand reaching over me, stopping the bag millimetres from my face.
”That poor bag must have really pissed you off,” a voice whispers behind me, causing me to shiver as their breath caresses my neck in an oddly intimate way. Their voice smooth with a hint of humour.
Why did my body react like this to him. I hated it.
”Do you really hate it?” Proth teases in my head.
”You keep those thoughts to yourself.” I grumble back.
”Then keep the ones about him to yourself.”
Damn, meddling dragon.
I turn around, my back resting against the punching bag as I look up at his hazel eyes, dark curls falling in front of them as he smirks down at me.
”It does when I picture certain peoples faces on it. Might imagine yours next.” I remark before ducking under his arm and heading for the bottle of water I’d placed nearby. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”
”I wouldn’t call it sneaking,” he says with a shrug as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “You’re just intense. I could hear you pummelling that bag from outside. Not my fault you didn’t hear me.”
I roll my eyes at him before raising the bottle to my lips, the cool liquid helping to simmer my fiery temper before dropping it back to the ground. I push past Garrick and settle back into a fighting stance as I unleash a flurry of quick jabs. I feel his eyes watching me, and I hate how I falter under his gaze.
”I take it your challenge against Dain did nothing to help your mood?” He muses as he leans up against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
I stop mid swing, turning to glare at him. “Trust me, if you knew even half the history between him and I, you’d understand.”
”Then make me understand.” He says casually, as if it was so easy to let him in.
I shake my head, before turning back to the punching bag. “Even if you were the last person alive, I wouldn’t let you in on my deepest darkest secrets Tavis.”
”Is it to do with what Dain hinted about the other day?”
Anger flairs within me at his words, putting more force behind my punch than I intend as a loud thud that almost sounds like a crack echoes in the room. I knew he had heard, but part of my deep down had hoped he didn’t. Had hoped him and Bodhi had walked in that little bit too late to hear that part of the conversation.
”It’s nothing. He’s just trying to get in your head. Place doubt. They’re good at that.” I snarl out, Garrick furrowing his brow at my words.
”I hate to say this, but I call bullshit. What I saw on the mat today, and the way you’re beating up the poor punching bag… That was all fuelled by anger and pent up emotions. It’s personal.”
Why was he so god damn observant when it came to me all of a sudden? Clearly I wasn’t as subtle as I thought. Or maybe Garrick was more focused on me than I thought.
”I didn’t come here for a therapy session Tavis. So you either stand there, be quiet and let me train. Or you leave.” I warn as I fiddle with the wraps on my hands.
I look up as Garrick slowly steps towards me. “How about another option? One that might stop you from injuring yourself? Your form is all over the place.”
I roll my eyes. “Fully aware of that one.” I tell him as I secure my wraps in place and turn to start up again.
I rock back on my heel to settle into a fighting stance, but large hands lightly grasp my hips and shift my weight. I go to recoil and step away, but his hands grip my hips firmly, keeping me in place.
”You keep that stance up you’re going to be limping around the Quadrant tomorrow.” He states firmly from behind me as he loosens his grip on me. “And relax your shoulders, you’re tense all up here.”
I turn my head to see him gesture to my shoulders, just enough distance between us so his fingers don’t skim the exposed skin. Happy I’ve taken note of his advice, he takes a step back as he crosses his arms over his chest and waits for me to resume.
I hated to admit it, but he was right. I was tense, my stance was completely off and I was already starting to feel it. But was I going to tell him that? Gods no. Though knocking the smug look off his face with a well placed hit was tempting.
”Anything else?” I ask as I drop my shoulders and settle into the stance he’d corrected me on.
”Stop fighting the bag, flow with it instead and maybe it won’t hit you in the face.” He says smugly, knowing that if I turned to look at him he’d be smirking at me.
”Flow? Look at you sounding like an expert.” I mock.
Garrick chuckles from behind me. “Maybe, but it works. Trust me.”
I turn my head, just enough to catch his gaze. His hazel eyes steady, but something else was there. As if he was meaning something else by his words. Not wanting to delve to deep into it, I turn my attention back to the punching bag, doing my best to ignore the feeling of his eyes on my back.
Taking a deep breath, I unleash a sequence of light jabs on the punching bag. And as Garrick put it, going with the flow of the bag. Which I knew would work. Working with the motion of the bag was better than fighting against it and trying to make the bag work for you instead.
”Better?” Garrick questions, his voice low and approving as moves to stand just off to the side of me as I step back from the bag.
”You might have been right.” I admit reluctantly as I start to undo my hand wraps. “But don’t let it go to your head.” I add as I point a finger at him.
Garrick grins, hands dropping to his side as he uncrosses his arms. “Too late.”
I roll my eyes, trying to hide the smile that wants to break free. “You’re impossible.”
”And you’re relentless.” He shoots back at me as his eyes linger on me. “You feel better now?”
I shrug as I undo the last of my hands wraps, scrunching them up in my hands. “As best as I can all things considered. But I no longer feel like I want to murder someone, so we’ll go with I feel better.”
He chuckles and shakes his head at me as I push past him, shoving my hand wraps and water bottle into my pack.
”I might have a way for you to get rid of the last of that pent up anger?” He jokes from behind me.
I roll my eyes as I shoulder my pack and turn to face him, Garrick far closer than he was before as I look up at him, that damn half smile on his face. I hated how my breath catches in my throat at the way he’s looking at me.
”I might have made myself a far bigger disappointment to my family today, but I still have some standards I want to uphold. Don’t want to end up at the healers because I’ve caught something that's gone around your stable.” I say smugly, smiling up at him before patting him on the chest and walking past him.
”What if I had no one else in my stable?” He calls out to me as I start to push the door open, the joking tone to his voice no longer there.
I turn to see him looking at me, but I’m too far away to see the way he’s looking at me properly. And I’m glad he’s too far away to see me freeze momentarily. I couldn’t deny I found Garrick attractive, just like every other girl in the Quadrant. And there was a part of me that was tempted to go there. But there was no way he would change his ways just for me. And there was another part of me that wasn’t sure if he was just using me or wanting it just to throw it in my face.
”And what if you didn’t?” I call out, tilting my head slightly as I look at him. “Would it even matter?
A few moments pass, Garrick now answering straight away. But from here I can just make out his trademark smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
”It might,” he calls out finally, his tone unreadable, his question now hangs heavier than it did before.
I feel the prickle of heat crawling up the back of my neck. Why were his words affecting me so much? Yes we’d agreed to try be friends after he’d found me after challenges. But I barely knew him. I didn’t trust him. I shouldn’t be having these feelings of wanting to see how far he would go for me. Because I knew it wouldn’t be very far. I was probably one of the few girls here who said no to him. I was just a fleeting fancy for him. Right?
I grip the door handle tightly as I turn away from him. “Whatever game you’re playing Garrick, I’m not your pawn.” I call out, my voice firm and stern. But I have no idea if he find’s it convincing, and I was not turning around to find out. “Once you figure out if it would matter, then maybe we’ll talk.”
I don’t wait for his reply. Pushing the door open more aggressively than I planned, the door slamming closed behind me, cutting off any reply Garrick was about to give me. As I walk away, I try to ignore the small part of me that wishes I’d stayed to hear his answer.
@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01
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xmads-omensx · 2 days ago
Note
Sorry if I'm overdoing it with yet another request.
Levi Ackerman x female reader
fluff/ one shot
Levi and Y/N are married and they have a 3 year old son. There is a visit from Santa Claus at the mall. The boy learned that his father's birthday is on the same day as Christmas. So, he demands two gifts from Santa Claus for Levi and also for himself. The boy says he also wants his birthday to be at Christmas too.
I don't know if I managed to make you understand. But the story would be fun too.
Thanks. I don't know if the same person can make another request.
DAY 21 - MALL SANTA VISIT
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Word Count: 1,591
pairing: Levi Ackerman X wife!reader
content warnings: modern au, they have a child, fluff
Of course, you can send as many requests as you like! I really enjoy writing them so it's no problem at all!
Also sorry it took so long to post, I decided to use it as part of my 25 Days of Christmas <3
Hope you enjoy :)
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Furlan was fascinated by the prospect of the shopping mall having a Santa Claus who could grant your Christmas wishes.
He thought Santa was only supposed to live in the North Pole, but his Aunt and Godmother, Hange had told him all about it.
She told him that Santa sometimes had to travel to shopping malls because then he could make sure he was getting everybody’s Christmas wish correct.
He couldn’t wait.
Levi was less than ecstatic when I told him about our weekend plans to visit the mall Santa that Saturday, but he went along with it to make Furlan happy.
That Saturday morning, we had been rudely awoken by Furlan’s excited shouts as he flung himself onto our bed giggling to himself.
Levi took him into his arms before placing a kiss on the top of his head and whispering a quick good morning to me.
Furlan had been counting down the days ever since Hange told him about the legendary mall Santa.
I got myself dressed whilst Levi got Furlan ready, then grabbed my handbag and jacket before heading down to the front door.
Levi had already strapped Furlan into his car seat and had opened the passenger door for me to climb into. As I got into my seat, I paced a chaste kiss on his cheek before he closed the car door behind me.
The entire drive was full of Furlan’s cheery voice singing his favourite Christmas songs.
“Hange!” Furlan shouted, pointing out the window as we pulled into the shopping mall car park. And sure enough, he was right. Next to her beat up pickup truck, Hange stood excitedly waving at us as we pulled into the parking space beside her in Levi’s sleek, black car.
Furlan wiggled with excitement in his seat as he anxiously waited for Levi to unstrap him so that he could rush to his Aunt.
“I didn’t know you were coming.” Levi huffed, secretly glad to see his friend.
“Y/N here mentioned that you weren’t quite done Christmas shopping, so I figured I would come and keep her company whilst you and Erwin finished shopping.” She explained happily, hugging me tightly as we laughed.
“Erwin?” Levi questioned, his eyebrow raising.
“Yep!” Hange exclaimed with glee, pointing at the white range rover that had just pulled into the car park a few spaces along from them.
Erwin exited his car with a big wave as Furlan giggled in Hange’s arms at his Godfather.
“So what, you’re shipping Erwin and I off while you two go to visit Santa?” Levi asked with his usual frown.
“Yep!” I exclaimed, kissing his cheek.
Erwin walked over to the group and immediately began to usher Levi into the mall to “escape the wrath of Hange” as he put it, since he still hadn’t managed to bring a plus one to the annual Christmas party.
Hange and I entered the shopping mall shortly after Erwin and Levi.
The plan was to look in some of the shops before heading to the ‘North Pole’ that had been set up outside of one of the larger department stores in the mall.
We would meet Levi and Erwin there, as Levi still wanted to take his son to see Santa, despite the fact that he was never a huge fan of the holiday, or the excess decorations that looked messy and cluttered when they were hung up in the bust shopping mall.
“So, what have you gotten Levi? Because I have no idea.” Hange asked.
“For Christmas, or his birthday?” I replied.
“Christmas, you know he only lets you get him birthday gifts.” Hange replied.
“I got him a new winter coat that he asked for, and a new teacup for his collection.” I replied. The teacup was tradition, so there was very little point in me even telling Hange that I had purchased it for Levi.
“Ugh, that’s boring!” Hange complained.
“Hey, you asked.” I defended. “And besides, you know Levi only ever asks for practical things if he really needs them, and even then he only asks me to get them for him.” I finished with a laugh.
“But seriously, I want to  get him something and you are literally his wife so give me answers!” She demanded, practically hanging off of my arm.
“Why don’t you get him some new gloves? He likes those leather ones but they have a hole in the pinkie.” I suggested, making Hange’s eyes roll. She never liked getting anyone practical gifts.
“But that’s boring.” She complained.
“But Levi will like it.” I mocked her tone.
“Ugh, why is your father so dull, Furlan?” Hange asked my son who clutched my hand tightly in his own.
“He’s not dull, he just has specific tastes.” Furlan recited to Hange what Levi often said to him when he didn’t want to get the pain sets out.
Hange and I both burst out laughing at my son’s robotic response, sounding exactly like his father.
“Okay, back to the topic at hand.” Hange began once again. “So I can’t get Levi anything for his birthday? Only Christmas?”
“Hange, you know the answer.” I began.
“I know! But I just figured that since they fall on the same day, it shouldn’t matter what I get him because they will blur together anyway.” She explained.
“You do have a point, but you know he doesn’t like his birthday.” I went on.
“I know. I guess I just keep hoping that one year he’ll change his mind and want to celebrate it.” Hange added with a sigh.
“What are you talking about mama?” Furlan asked.
“Your dad’s birthday.” I replied. I didn’t want to have to explain to Furlan why his father hated his birthday.
“Does daddy not like his birthday?” He asked. His large, round grey eyes staring back up at me.
“No, he doesn’t sweetie.” I replied with a smile.
“Why not?” He asked. Shit. There was that question that I didn’t want to ever have to answer.
“Well, kiddo, you know how I don’t like bananas?” Hange asked, leaning down to Furlan’s eye-level. He nodded his head. “Well, your dad just doesn’t like his birthday. He never has the whole time I’ve known him.” She finished, patting Furlan on the head and standing back up to her full height.
“Just get him the gloves so he can stop complaining about the hole in the pinkie finger.” I laughed after a brief moment of pause.
After much complaining from Hange, we managed to buy the gloves and head back to the agreed meeting spot.
Levi and Erwin stood next to one of the pillars by the makeshift ‘North Pole’, Erwin towering over Levi as usual.
“Daddy!” Furlan called as he let go of my hand and ran into his father’s arms.
“Are you excited to meet Santa bud?” Levi asked our son who beamed up at him, nodding his head frantically.
I took Furlan’s hand and led him over to the queue where he was to wait until it was his turn to sit on Santa’s lap.
The line went down quickly as each child took their turn to make their wish to Santa.
Suddenly, it was Furlan’s turn.
He walked up to Santa with a big smile on his face and giggled as Santa lifted him up onto his lap. I rejoined Levi and the others by the pillar.
“So, young man, what’s your name?” Santa asked Furlan.
“Furlan Ackerman!” He exclaimed with excitement, making Santa laugh.
“And what would you, Furlan Ackerman, like for Christmas?” He asked.
Furlan thought for a moment before answering.
“well… I have tow wishes.” He said timidly.
“Two!” Santa exclaimed. “Well, I suppose since you have been such a good boy this year, I can grant you two wishes.” Furlan smiled before answering.
“My Daddy’s birthday is on Christmas, but he doesn’t like his birthday, and I think that’s sad. So my first wish is that my Daddy likes his birthday again so we can all have fun and he can get even more presents!” I could feel Levi tense ever so slightly beside me.
“I see.” Santa paused for a second. “And what about your second wish?”
“I wish that my birthday was Christmas too, so that my Daddy and I can share a party and get more presents too!” Furlan exclaimed with excitement.
“Well.” Santa began. “I can’t change your birthday, but I’ll see if I can do anything about your father enjoying his birthday.”
Furlan beamed with joy at Santa’s words.
“Take this for yourself.” Santa held out a small wrapped package to Furlan, “ And take this for your father.”
Furlan took both gifts, thanked Santa before hurrying back to where we all waited beside the pillar.
As soon as he reached us, Furlan handed Levi the gift that Santa had given him.
“Open it.” Furlan demanded, sounding exactly like his father.
Levi hesitantly peeled back the red wrapping paper to reveal a small keyring with two wings on them. One of them blue, and the other white. It was an insignificant little keyring, but for some reason, it made Levi begin to tear up.
Then it hit you. Levi didn’t hate the idea of his birthday anymore, because he had his own family to re-write the past with.
Furlan’s wish to the mall Santa, made Levi realise how loved he truly was.
And that small, cheap keyring was a symbol of the love from a son to his father, which Levi would treasure forever.
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gloomskulls · 1 day ago
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LIMERENCE PT 2 [tasm!peter parker x reader
pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader
part 1
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warning(s): dub/non consensual (reader is drunk and drunk people cannot give consent), terribly written smut (i'm a virgin i'm sorry, I have no idea what goes on actually in the bed), oral (fem receiving), drinking, drunk reader, overstimulation, everyone is 18+ here lemme know if I missed any
If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content
A/n: I'm sorry this took a whole ass while, it's probs 90% story and 10% smut. Like it's probs shit, the smut's the reason why I couldn't finish this sooner because I had no idea where it was going. Also tried to write 2012 slang, idk if it even sounds right. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else I'm going to turn you into Victoria Heyes from terrifier ❤️🫶/srs
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Peter shuffled in his sleep. Tossing and turning. Sleep never found him, how could it? He did something so unforgivable. Having an obsession with someone who barely acknowledges your existence is one thing, but sneaking into her house, completely crossing every single line, and then jerking off to the scent of your panties while imagining you on top of him, riding him as you creamed his cock with your cum.
The air felt heavy and there was an almost stifling silence in his small bedroom, while his mind worked in the manner of a broken machine, looping thoughts.
Every single thing about you — your laugh, the spark in your eyes when you spoke of something you loved, the way you uttered his name — his mind kept replaying like a broken record. Each one felt as fresh as if it had just taken place a moment ago, and each one pulled at something deep within his chest.
He had spent years arguing with himself about what he was doing. He told himself that viewing you from a distance was merely innocent fascination, a little crush. But that had been a lie. What he had done the night before, sneaking into your room was not a mistake; it was a deliberate decision.
Peter was filled with doubts, a regular person would call him lovesick, a creep even. Is she really worth it? Peter admits something he'd been avoiding for a while.
He wanted you.
Not as a classmate. Not as a partner for a stupid project. He wanted you in a way that was raw and desperate and consuming. Oh, he wanted you to look at him the way you look at the rest of the world with trust, with affection, with the same ease that made you laugh at his dumb jokes.
The realization hit him hard. The weight of it sank into his chest like a boulder, but there was a rush of something else too-something darker, more intoxicating.
Peter sat up abruptly, there's only one way or another, heart hammering as he snatched up his phone. Tapping out a quick message, he did so with trembling hands.
"Hey, u free 2nite? Was thinkin maybe we could finish the proj & grab dinner after. My treat. :)"
He stared at the screen, his thumb hovered over the send button. The fear crept back in, whispering in the back of his mind. What if she thought he was crazy? What if she rejected me outright? What if everything he'd built up in his head came crashing down?
Many thoughts crowded his mind, neither of them was good
As he stared at the text, his finger quivered. His stomach tightening in knots. The reply was already forming in his mind—would you say yes? Or perhaps he was weird for asking, for suggesting anything other than school?
But what if he didn't ask? What if he kept on pretending that this crush wasn't eating him up from the inside?
I've got to do this; he tried to steady his breath. This would never come again.
Deep breath and then Peter clicked "send."
Time seemed to stretch into eternity. His mind was racing, spinning out into the worst-case scenarios. You could just say no or even laugh it off and tell him it wasn't a good idea. It's a biology project, after all. That's what it was supposed to be—right?
That crumbled page of biology scraps lay on his desk as evidence of the project you both were working on. It was supposed to be a simple collaboration, probably will last for a few weeks if he was lucky, and then he'd just go back to being invisible to you.
But he didn't want to go back to being invisible.
He sat there at the edge of the bed, hunched over in an awkward position, his elbows rested on the stretched knees, and he stared his phone, convinced that at any moment it would leave his grip. He had typed the message, the own words glowing brighter as he waited.
He had redone it like at least a dozen times, but all versions felt way too casual to too formal. His current message was just right; friendly, innocent enough but still an invite.
What if you think it is strange? What if you don't even reply at all?
He shook his head to stabilize his breathing. It's alright, he told himself. His not asking for something crazy. It's only a dinner.
But it wasn't just a dinner. It was the convergence of years of quiet yearning, stolen glances, and missed opportunities. This was the first real step toward something more, if only he could find the courage to take it.
He shunned his phone flat on the bed thinking that might ease the tension in his chest, but it didn't. His heart raced as seconds ticked by on the clock, each second feeling like an eternally long wait.
What if you didn't reply?
What if you did?
His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as his phone buzzed.
He grabbed it with trembling hands.
"Sure! I'm totally in. Where r we meeting? 7?"
He read the message over and over again: You're saying yes. Relief was an actual weight that was just lifted as disbelief flooded him as he blinked at the screen, rereading the message to make sure it hadn't been imagined.
For a moment, he allowed himself to smile, but it quickly disappeared. Now that he got the answer, a different kind of panic struck.
What happens next?
"Yea 7’s cool, I’ll pick u up @ ur place"
He looked up at the clock-6:30. In thirty minutes, he needed to get ready. Thirty minutes within which he needed to figure out how not to screw this one up completely.
Peter fell out of his chair and quickly rifled through his closet for something fresh and unique that didn't look like it had just been thrown on five minutes ago. His room was strung out in a mess of hoodies and T-shirts that didn't do any good as he tried on piece after piece-each feeling wrong.
"Relax," he murmured at himself while gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Hi hair looked like he just crawled out from under the bed, his face was red, and no matter how many adjustments he attempted on the clothes, he still looked like the awkward kid he'd always been.
Peter raced around his pod-sized room in search of a shirt that didn't scream "high school loser." The bed was a battlefield littered with crumpled hoodies, a checkered flannel, even his Midtown Science Academy T-shirt.
"Peter?" Aunt May's curious sounding voice called out from the hallway.
"Yeah?" he shouted back while looking through his closet and listening.
"Why does it sound like a tornado hit your room? Are you okay in there?"
Peter groaned and threw another hoodie onto the pile he was amassing on the bed. "I'm fine!"
The creaky door slammed open a moment later, and Aunt May peeked her head in. Her sharp eyes traveled the disaster area that was his room, from the piles of clothes, and even down to the one sneaker he was wearing.
"Uh-huh. Fine." She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What's all this about? A wardrobe crisis?"
He sighed at her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing serious, okay? I just… I'm going out."
May raised an eyebrow as her lips twitched as if trying hard not to smile. "Going out? As in… on a date?"
"What? No!" Peter's voice shot up as he spun around, waving his hands. "It's not a date! It's just dinner. For a project. With a friend."
By now, she wasn't even trying to hide her grin. "A 'friend,' huh? Is this the same 'friend' you've been talking about nonstop since this biology project started?"
"I don't talk about her nonstop!" protested Peter, turning into a shade of tomato. "Oh, you definitely do," Uncle Ben countered from outside the hallway and into the room, sporting the knowing smirk of someone who has heard too much. "Half the time, it's, 'Oh, she's so smart,' and the other half is, 'She's so good at this lab thing.'" He said with a dreamy tone
"Okay, okay, so I get it!" he groaned while burying his face in his hands. "Can we not do this now?"
Ben laughed and slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Relax, kid. We are just teasing, and you've got this.”
May walked into the room and picked up one of the forgotten shirts from the bed. Holding it up, she said, "What is wrong with this? Nice but casual, not slobby."
Peter squinted at it. "It's too—I don't know; plain?"
"Plain is better than looking as if you are trying too hard," she said, tossing it to him.
Uncle Ben nodded sagely. "It's right." "You don't want to go full tuxedo on a first—uh, not a date," he added quickly, holding up his hands when Peter glared at him.
Peter huffed but pulled the shirt over his head anyway. "You two are the worst," he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.
May smiled and reached out, smoothing the collar of his shirt. "We are not the worst. We are just proud of you. It's good to see you putting yourself out there."
"I'm not—," Peter began, but Ben cut him off.
"You are," Ben said firmly. "That's a good thing. Just be yourself, Pete. If she's as great as you say she is, she'll see what we see, a smart, kind, slightly awkward but very lovable kid."
Peter's face burned. "Yea, you really know how to give a pep talk."
"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ben fired back with a grin.
May handed Peter his second sneaker. "Here. Don't forget this, unless you're planning to really impress her with your one-shoe look."
Peter rolled his eyes but could not quite hide the grin that crept onto his lips. "Thanks, Aunt May."
So Ben called after him as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "And remember, kid—Italian places usually give you breadsticks first. Don't fill up before the main course!"
Peter groaned loudly. "I'm going now! Bye!"
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He was there, at your door, heart pounding heavily, as if wanting to burst out from the body. He lingered for a while, staring at the doorbell.
What if this is a mistake?
But before you could think otherwise, the button pressed his finger.
And then echoed the sound of the bell from inside, and Peter felt that the earth would open up and swallow him whole in an instance. He heard footsteps, and then the door opened.
There you were.
"Hey, Peter!" you said, smiling that effortless way that made his breath catch in his throat, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. "You're right on time, I just need a minute to grab my bag."
Peter managed a small smile and stepped in, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. "Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need."
You disappeared into another room, leaving Peter hanging awkwardly at your door, his eyes darting about. It was a very warm and inviting house, in harmony with the kind of person you were. The faint hum of a television in another room was muffled, someone talking, and he could hear that easily.
Your presence returned with your bag slung around your shoulder and you ignited the nerves again in Peter.
“So,” you said, smiling at him, “where to?”
Peter hesitated just a beat too long, his mind scrambling to come up with an answer. "Uh, I was thinking Italian? That okay with you?"
"Italian sounds great," you said easily as your smile widened.
Peter's heart raced as you stepped out the door, walking beside him toward the small restaurant a few blocks away. The night air was crisp, and for the first few minutes, he was too caught up in his own head to say much. But then you started talking, asking him about his day, about the project, and the sound of your voice eased some of his tension.
You made him feel like he belonged, even without having a word to say.
When the restaurant came in sight, Peter turned to you. Nerves still there but mixed with something else: a quiet and hopeful excitement.
Maybe just maybe, tonight will be the beginning of something real.
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The walk to the restaurant was such a nerve-racking experience. Each step Peter Parker took beside you felt like a step closer to something he wasn't ready (or was actually hoping for). His hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, fingers curling and uncurling, while trying to keep steady pacing alongside you.
But you appeared to be at full ease. You talked about the cool evening, how the trees' leaves were beginning to rustle with the cold wind blowing, and even the faint smell of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor a few blocks away. Peter heard everything, nodded, and punctuated things now and then with the occasional "Yeah" or "Totally," but as for his thoughts, they were running wild within him.
This is well. This is the standard. This is alright, He didn't over hypothesize for the hundredth time.
As much as there was relief in now having something solid to focus on, Peter was panicked that it all became real at that moment.
He opened the door for you, his hand trembling slightly as he held it.
"Thanks," you said, giving him a swift smile before stepping inside.
"Uh, yeah. Of course," Peter mumbled as he hung his head and followed you in.
The hostess took you to a corner besides the glass window, a cozy little spot with a flickering candle in the middle of the table. Peter's hands trembled as he took the chair and gestured you to sit on it.
The menu in front of him could be in another language as he stared dumbly at it, words bringing into a blur while the thoughts buzzing in his head were getting harder to put to rest.
Don't be weird. Just be normal. What does "normal" even mean? Stop overthinking! You've got this!
"This place is nice," you commented as you scanned the menu. "How did you discover it?"
"Oh, um, my aunt used to like it here," Peter said, grateful he could answer such a question. "She says the lasagna is the best."
You grinned. "Aunt May has good taste. I will try that."
He nodded, yes, but could not stop the rush of nervous thoughts flooding his mind. He glanced at the menu as if studying it although he already knew what he would order. But his mind was instead filled with every possible thing he could screw up tonight.
Don't talk too much; don't laugh strangely; don't look like an idiot.
Here came the waiter, and you ordered effortlessly, laced with a polite smile as you handed him the menu. Peter stammered out his order and felt his palms sweat as he gave it. When the waiter walked away, Peter could feel your eyes on him, and it took everything he had to meet your gaze.
"So," you said, leaning in with elbows planted on the table, chin cradled in palm, "what's your thing, Peter?"
"My thing?" he said, taken aback. "Like, my thing?"
"Yeah, like… what do you do for fun? What are you really into doing when absolutely no one else is watching and judging?"
Peter blinked, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound lame. "Uh, well, I like photography," he said. "And science, I guess. Experiments, stuff like that."
You perked up. "Photography? That is cool. What kind of pictures do you take?"
"Mostly city stuff," he said, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. "You know, like weird angles, shadows, reflections. It's probably not that interesting to most people."
"I think it sounds interesting," you said. "I would love to see your pictures sometime."
Peter's heart was pounding so hard. "Really? Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you want."
That made the conversation flow more easily. You told him about your love-hate relationship with math, how sometimes you spent too long procrastinating by watching cooking shows instead of doing your homework, and how one time you tried to make crème brûlée and almost burned your stove.
“I had to open every window in the house,” you said, laughing. “My mom came home and thought I’d burned dinner. I didn’t tell her it was supposed to be dessert.”
Peter grinned, feeling just a little bit more at ease. “Maybe stick to cookies next time, huh?”
“Noted,” you said with a mock-serious nod.
Then it was time to eat. You both started digging into it while still keeping up your conversation. Peter quickly found himself becoming much more relaxed, finding it absolutely easy to talk to you when he didn't over-analyze every word. You burst into laughter each time his jokes finished, and whenever his eye fell into yours, everything around faded.
There was little doubt that he was doing this because he was desperate enough to strike a topic that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot; this was the reason why he asked, "You, uh, good with the whole project?"
You leaned back, fiddled with the napkin on the table, and said, "Yeah, it's actually been fun. Well, I mean, we work well together, and you're much smarter than I had thought."
Peter blinked. "Wait, you thought I wasn't smart?"
"No, I just-" You smirk, it's clear you're enjoying his reaction. "You always seem kinda… busy with stuff, you know? You're not exactly the loudest guy in the room."
"Well, I, uh…" Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm, uh, more of a behind-the-scenes guy. You know, less talk, more… action?"
You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Peter felt himself get a little more relaxed. Maybe you weren't judging him.
'This place have wine?' you ask all of a sudden, not looking up from the menu.
Peter blinked. "Uh… I think so?"
You smirked and put your feet up on the table after throwing the menu on it. "Perfect. I could use a glass."
Peter was at a loss on how he should respond. It just didn't seem like the kind of person who would order wine to go with dinner-at least, not in his limited and admittedly romanticized view of you. But when the waiter came by, you ordered an entire bottle without hesitating, barely glancing at Peter for confirmation.
"Um, yeah, sounds good," Peter said weakly, even though the thought of drinking anything stronger than soda made him nervous.
The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in an awkward silence.
But the waiter was back again, this time with a bottle and two glasses, which he laid down with a polite smile. And before you knew it, the deep red liquid was already swirling around in your glass because you had poured it in haste from the bottle.
Want some? You asked, already halfway through your first sip.
“Uh, maybe later,” Peter said.
You shrugged and took another long drink before putting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Suit yourself.”
The most casual kind of conversation developed between you: you asked Peter about what he was interested in, and he managed to stumble along throwing together great lengthy descriptions about why he loved photography and science, and the words came out too fast for him to think them. It almost seemed like you were listening to him, however, because he went on to nod before even asking follow-up questions, which made him for the first time in a long time feel that he wasn't entirely invisible.
By that time, he was becoming aware, as the hours slipped away, that you were filling up your glass more and more often. The bottle was now half empty when the food came, and you were already sporting rosy cheeks when the alcohol was pouring into your system.
“This is good,” you said, hardly bothering with your plate in order to gesture with your fork at it. "I mean, really good. Good call, Parker.”
The smile that appeared on Peter's face was that of nervousness. "Thanks. I'm glad you like it."
Now you leaned back in your seat, holding your glass up to the light. "You know, I don't really do stuff like this. I've kind of never had dinner with classmates. It's just a little… weird, you know?"
Peter sank a little. "Weird, how?"
"Not bad weird," you said immediately by waving your hand. "Just… different. Like, generally, I would just be at home watching some lousy reality show and trying to forget how much homework I have to do."
Peter chuckled, even though he had no idea what to say next.
After a sip of wine, the boy looked up at Peter who immediately landed his gaze upon the bottle. You seem well into your first glass with a heightening sense of ease that you appeared to be at his home. Maybe it was because of the wine or perhaps how you were looking at him right now-not with judging spectatorship but with a strange kind of understanding that made him feel as if he were not really out of place.
It was only a count of seconds before the food arrived while you already had a second glass in hand. Peter's stomach flipped at that moment. This wasn't the way he was used to seeing you, all loosened up and speaking without that slight guard he usually saw when you were around. You appeared different tonight, and Peter couldn't quite figure it out if it was a good thing or not.
However, the conversation was still going on, only that as soon as you took a few more drinks, conversations shifted to more profound, much more personal things. Laughter spilled from your lips more freely, although Peter saw that smiles were now somewhat uncontrollable. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was just the ambience. In any case, he could feel something shifting, like you were letting him see this version of yourself you weren't sure he was supposed to see.
"Peter", you said, looking at him with wide eyes after a long sip. "What's your big dream? Like 20 years from now, what do you see yourself doing?"
He shifted around uneasily on his chair. And that question was sudden, a little more intense than he would have reckoned it to be. He was not used to being asked about his future like this.
"Honestly?" said Peter, leaning back a little and looking down at the half-finished plate in front of him. "I don't really know. I think- I think I want to do something with science, or photography. Maybe combine. Don't know really. Just like, I want to fix things, you know? Help make the world a little less broken.''
You were quiet for a moment, and Peter wasn't sure whether it was because he'd said something wrong or whether you were just thinking. But when you finally spoke, your voice was softer, almost quieter than before.
"I think that's really admirable, Peter."
That was it. That one simple sentence hit him harder than he expected. He wasn't used to compliments like that- not from you, not from anyone. The words were a strange dream, and for a second he just looked dumbfoundedly at you trying to really understand what you mean.
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Peter had never imagined the night to go this way. Not even in a million years. But here he was, walking alongside you, swaying slightly on the sidewalk with less steadiness in your step than before. Surprisingly, the wine had hit you faster than he figured, and he wasn't so sure if he should be concerned or just chalk it up to the kind of night it had turned into.
"Hey, I'm-" You hiccupped, laughing lightly at your own clumsiness. "I'm fine, Peter. Really."
But Peter wasn't so sure. His instincts were whipping him into overdrive-the same ones that always made him want to leap into action when something was amiss. "Yeah, I don't think you are," he said, trying to keep it light. "Let me just walk you home, okay? Just to make sure you're good."
But you rolled your eyes, with an almost sheepish smile you gave in, "Fine, fine. I get it. You're worried about me."
"Yeah, I am," Peter said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. "But you're my responsibility right now, okay?"
You exhale a small laugh, and Peter can't help but take note of how completely giddy it sounded, a little like you weren't quite sure where you were or what you were doing. You leaned against him, and then Peter was surprised at how easily you let him help you with that.
The way home was otherwise silent except for the occasional trip and the muttered apologies from you. But Peter didn't mind it, sensing closeness, although strange. Everything was just weird tonight. The brushing of your hand against his as you reached for your keys. That laugh of yours that wouldn't leave his ears. The vulnerability you seemed to wear in your eyes at that moment.
So, then you reached your door, and you suddenly stopped and stood there, fumbling with the keys in your hand. Peter moved closer but silently offered to help. You shook your head.
"I've got this," you said, though your words were slurring just enough for Peter to catch the uncertainty behind them.
After much effort on your part, the door finally opened. You leaned in again, and Peter nearly lost his heart as he had to rush forward to steady you.
"Whoa, take it easy," Peter said catching you as you stumbled. "Let me help you."
You smiled up at him, glassy and unfocused. "I'm fine, Peter," you slurred. "Just a little…tipsy."
Peter chuckled and guided you up the walkway to your front door. "Tipsy, huh? Well, let's get you inside and safe, then."
As you both reached the front door, you fumbled with your keys and Peter had to gently take them from your hand and unlock the door himself. You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.
After some time and a couple of tries, she got the door opened.
"Okay, inside," he said, his tone a little more powerful now. You did not resist him as he helped you through the door, but there was a strange sadness in your eyes that twisted Peter's stomach.
You moved slowly to the couch and finally sank down on it; the wine was exhausting. Peter stood near the door for a moment, wondering his next move. He wanted to shoot his shot, his thoughts wandered to somethings more inappropriate. Wasn't this all about getting you safe? Ensuring you did not end up passed out somewhere in a big, messy pile of sheets and regrets.
"Can you just… stay for a bit?" you asked quietly, with barely a whisper.
Peter hesitated. He didn't want to go too far, and he couldn't just leave you here, not looking so…fragile.
"Yes," he spoke softly, entering then into the living room. "I'll stay for a bit"
You nodded at him, gazing at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."
Peter perched on the edge of the couch; his hands awkwardly balanced on his knees. What a strange space there was between you two now, strange in that it was so very close, yet so far away. He wanted to be of some use and ensure you were okay, and yet the way the glance kept coming from you in that direction somehow felt… off. It was like walking on a fine line.
Peter looked at you longingly, you were so beautiful.
Too close and too perfect, he found himself sitting next to you, and Peter felt the pressure of so many things left uncommunicated fill his chest. He needed to do it. He needed to say it.
"Peter?" Your voice was a soft whisper, a little uncertain. Wine had aided this whole relaxing process, yet made almost everything feel slightly out of focus.
Peter swallowed, heart pounding in the chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the alcohol that has found narrate in your system, or if it was the raw honesty of the moment, but he knew very well it was now or never, the one chance to say all he had kept bottled up for months.
"Yeah?" he whispered, getting closer so that he was almost against you now.
"It's just that, I… I'm sorry if I've been too much tonight," you said, your words slightly slurring as you allowed your gaze to drift over his face. "I didn't mean to get that drunk."
Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. He could feel his palms sweating, his heart racing faster than ever. "I just… I just want to make sure you're okay."
You smiled up at him, but it was a little foggy, and Peter could tell that the wine had dulled your clarity. Still, you were so beautiful, standing there, looking at him with those eyes—eyes that made him feel like he mattered.
Peter took a sharp breath and let a sudden breath of air come out. It was as if a magnet was pulling them together, and he was drawn to it. "So, uh– I was thinking…" He hesitated for a moment, then recovered his composure, trying to calm the trembling in his hands. "I've been thinking about you for a long time. Like, longer than I should have."
His brows knitted further in confusion as Peter quickly realized that the rest of the sentence was failing miserably in getting through your mind, as if the actual words were swimming around in it, suspended in fog. He stepped closer, unable to stop himself.
"If I—" He let out a shaky breath. "You know, I've been loving you for so long now. And tonight, I couldn't hold it anymore and just… broke the dam."
Your expression shifted slightly. Confusion clouded your gaze. You blinked, trying to piece together his words. "Wait, what?"
Peter took a step closer, completely incapable of holding himself back. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he felt the heat between you intensify. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your arm. "I love you," he whispered again, barely able to breathe. "I love you so much, and I've been too scared to say it. I've watched you for so long, and I—" Peter stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, eyes looking like a lost puppy.
"You're so beautiful, so so beautiful" He leaned in, your face was so close to him, his lips brushed against yours. He held your face as he licked your lips.
You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin with just the proximity of Peter's face to yours, and the goosebumps it sent down your spine. Those eyes were filled deeply with a longing expression and captured yours as if drowning you in its depths. There was air that quite vibrated between the two of you, and the heat that seemed to take form could even be felt emanating from his body.
"I wanted to do that for so long," Peter whispered. His voice shuddered with desire. Gentle words falling like a caress to send shivers through you: "Wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss."
His lips brushed against yours when he spoke, making your body spark with electricity. You were pretty much melting into him, as if his very desire were consuming your human body. His lips, soft and gentle, just as firm and insistent. You tasted like wine.
"You're so beautiful" he said as his hands went underneath your dress, his hands inching close to your under garments. He touched your clothed core; he used his index finger to rub your clothed cover clit
You squirmed in his touch, "P-peter" You mewled in his mouth
This just seemed to fuel Peter even more, as he set aside your panties as his smooth fingers rubbed your now exposed core. Peter looked at you, he slowly kneeled as he spread your legs.
He looked at your wet core, as if it was a painting that he couldn't understand. Without warning he then sucked your glistening pearl; his tongue probed the inside of your gummy walls as his fingers rubbed your pearl. You cried out, your body arching up to meet him, and Peter felt a surge of excitement. He was in control now, and you were at his mercy.
He knew it was wrong, you were drunk after all, but he couldn't help it, this was his only chance.
He licked and sucked at your clit, his fingers plunging in and out of your dripping wet pussy, you cried out in ecstasy, your hands tugging at Peter's hair. But he didn't care, all he cared about was your dripping we cunt.
Anticipation dwells in the coiling mouth against your body, sending shivers along your spine. Every inch of you is lulled into stimulation by his gentle probing, drawing near to a soon-to-be-hidden insistent demand. You can feel that hot air glazing across your skin, soft scraping with teeth, and relentless pressure from his lips, all of which accompanies his tongue.
Your hands are clenched while he works, fingers digging into the sheets or perhaps his hair, holding him there. Your hips jerk primitively, as though to push him deeper and encourage more pressure, while your breathing makes raspy sounds mixed with soft mewls of pleasure.
One hand is busy at your hips, molding you solidly into place, while the other slips only up over the curve of your waist before settling over your breast.
You feel yourself immersing in the sensation as your focus is honed into one. The only critical thing is the feeling of his mouth on you. The whole room begins to fade away, and you're left with only the slushing wet sounds he makes and your breathless gasps, groans, and cries.
Peter on the other hand felt like he was in cloud nine, his mouth was now fully covered in your arousal, but he didn't care. He continued lapping at your cunt, accompanied with his middle finger thrusting in and out of you.
As the intensity rises, so do your frantic movements: the hips jerk and thrust as though reaching toward some ill-defined height. His mouth is a scythe-like blur of tongue lashing and probing until the pressure builds and you're all quivering trembling muscles, precariously balanced on a knife edge of release.
Your mouth is wide open, frozen in a silent scream on your lips, and your entire body starts quivering at the moment of release.
Then silence engulfs the outside world; its only inhabitants are trapped in a silent world of raw lust. His mouth is a furnace, raging, and threatening to engulf you completely, but you lean into the flames, thirsty for the intense heat that only he can provide. Your skin is slick with sweat, your heart thundering like a runaway train as your body builds toward the inevitable climax.
Your cries intensify as tension rises, a mournful cry into this frantic air, a scream savage, echoing off the walls as your body strains towards that release. Your muscles quivering.
Before you knew it, it almost hit you like rough wave of pleasure.
His cock twitched, his balls tightening with anticipation, as he felt the warmth of her your release in his mouth. That alone could make him cum his pants. He had never been this close to a woman before, and the thought of exploring your body was almost too much to bear. And here he was doing exactly just that.
You were beautiful to Peter, but you looked ungodly when you were in a state of release. The way your chest would heave up and down, how your mascara was running down your eyes, and your lipstick smudged on the side of your face.
"You're so beautiful" he said, barely even above a whisper.
"P-peter— OH MY GOD!"
He suddenly took a long slow stripe of your pussy, as if savoring everything, but then stopped when his tongue reached your clit. He sucked on your little pearl as if it was lollipop.
You moaned loudly as your back arched and your toes curled, "P-peter" You whimpered
The way he was sucking on your clit, along with his fingers that was thrusting deep inside you. It made it nearly unbearable. The last few moments or so almost sent you spiraling into one of those severe orgasms that made you see stars on your ceiling.
Loud moans slipped from your mouth, you wondered if your parents were at home, what if they see their sweet girl falling apart underneath the so-called weird kid of your school.
Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to ease the bittersweet pleasure he was giving you. "P-peter, oh god, stop, I c-can't take it anymore" you begged in a voice very nearly a whisper. Body trembling, your hands reached instinctively for his hair, holding him.
He continued his performance on your clit. A familiar knot kept building inside you. Suddenly, the moans turned into loud gasps, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. P-peter, I…I think I'm going to come again" you finally whisper. To that, he only sucked harder, licked harder, his fingers falling on a rhythm with his tongue swirling relentlessly on your sensitive spot, bringing you to sweet agony. Your back arched up, you gasp while screaming, "P-PETER!"
Heaving and shaking with each pulsing moan, you lay there with your body's hypersensitivity after such intense pleasure receding. Finally, Peter raised his head. That satisfied smile on his face was testimony to your ability to elicit such feelings from him. And with his eyes, he stared at you, every flicker of lust speaking volumes about what was crossing his mind. Then he kissed near the center of time in your inner thigh, his lips dragging softly, and then moving to lie with you at the side of the couch
Peter's smile slowly faded as he noticed your catch of breath, replaced with a show of real concern. He stroked your hair as he gazed into your eyes. "That was intense," Peter said. "You're shaking." His voice was tender, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "Time to get you to bed, all right?"
He managed a slowly rise from the couch while extending his hand forward towards you. You grasped onto it and found your balance shaky; nonetheless, Peter assisted you toward leaving the living room, down the hallway, and into your bedroom.
Peter opened your door slowly, revealing the bedroom from that night. Snap out of your thoughts Parker!
The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. Peter placed you carefully at the edge of the bed. He knelt down to remove your shoes and started undressing you slowly and carefully. He threw the covers over you as you laid back in bed, tucking you in like a young child.
"Rest," he whispered as he brushed his lips against your forehead. "Sleep, I'll be here when you wake." He sat beside you, stroking your hair with his hand. Your eyelids began to feel heavier, and weariness, along with all the forms of pleasure, finally overtook you. Peter was the last person you remember as you slipped into slumber, where upon you felt the warmth beside you that offered the source of a much-needed sense of safety.
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@gloomskulls 2024, DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE OF MY WORKS IN ANY OTHER WEBSITE. Photos don't belong to me
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inkedinshadows · 1 day ago
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An Angel on the Ice
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A/N: happy @acotargiftexchange to you, @duskandcobalt! I'm your Secret Santa, finally here with your gift! I had so much fun getting to know you and your love for this wonderful couple. I'm so so sorry I made you wait till the very end, I've been busier than I expected. BUT!! I have a second little surprise coming for you in the next few days (probably on Christmas day). I came up with the idea while writing this fic, but I didn't know how to include it here, so it'll be a little drabble on its own. Without further ado, here's your gift. Enjoy! And congratulations for guessing what Az's surprise was!
Pairing: Azriel x Elain
Summary: Azriel takes Elain to the Illyrian mountains for a romantic surprise.
Word count: 2.9k
Warnings: fluff, fluff, FLUFF
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The cold winter air hit Elain in the face as she stepped out of the little art shop and onto the street.
The snow that had fallen during the night still coated the cobblestones, blanketing everything in a thin layer of soft white. It had brought along the cold, so freezing that her wool hat did little to warm her.
Azriel followed her outside, a wing already curling protectively around her, drawing her closer to his side. Except he was carrying the bags full of the presents they'd bought for their family, and she was still walking a couple feet away from him.
“You know, you don't have to carry all of the bags,” she said, reaching out with a gloved hand to relieve him of some weight. “I can hold some.”
He moved his hand further away, out of her reach. “I know you can, angel,” he said with a soft smile. “I just don't want you to. You're cold. You should keep your hands in your pockets.”
“I'm wearing gloves,” she pointed out, though she didn't try to grab the bags again. She knew Azriel wouldn't let her. “I'm not cold.”
A small dimple appeared on his cheek as he smirked at her. Even after months together, Elain's heart skipped a beat at the sight, her fingers twitching at her side with the urge to touch it and place a soft kiss there.
“Then why are your nose and cheeks red?”
She rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “My sister was right. You Illyrians really are overprotective mother hens.”
Yet even as she said it, her hands slid back into the pockets of her coat. Azriel's smirk grew at the movement, but he didn't comment.
“We have to earn that title somehow,” he said instead. Elain laughed, and his smile became softer. “Let's go home.”
Home. There was a time when she'd thought the Night Court would never be her home. Only three years ago, it had felt impossible. Turned Fae against her will, shoved at a male she didn't know or want, with powers she had no idea how to control, and a broken engagement on top of it all… she'd felt hopeless.
But as she'd learned how to accept and navigate her new life, Azriel had been there to help her through it. Something had slowly changed between them, a feeling that grew inside her until she could no longer pretend it wasn't there. But acting on it had led to a denied kiss in the dead of the longest night of the year. A broken heart, that feeling of hopelessness again, and then the explanation, the argument with Rhysand, the rejection of her mating bond.
Elain stole a glance at Azriel. Just a Winter Solstice ago, he had told her it had been a mistake. And now here he was, carrying their bags full of presents, on their way to the small house they'd bought a few months ago.
“You're staring, angel.”
She couldn't help the smile that blossomed on her lips. “You're just so beautiful to look at.”
She knew the effect the words would have on him, but by the Mother, she would never get tired of the way his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. It was visible even now, when they were already reddened by the cold. It happened every time she called him beautiful, and it was one of the many things she loved about him.
“How many presents do you still have to buy?” she asked him, changing the topic to make him feel more comfortable. If they were at home, she might have teased him about his blush, but not in public.
“Just a couple,” he answered, the flush already disappearing from his cheeks. “But I know what I'll get them. The only one I miss is Cassian.”
“You can always get him beef jerky this year too,” she joked, avoiding an ice patch on the cobblestones.
Azriel glanced at her. She knew he was making sure she didn't slip on the street. Overprotective mother hen, indeed. Yet she immediately stepped back into the warmth of his wing around her.
“I might, actually,” he finally replied, no hint of joking in his voice.
She turned her head to look at him, her brow furrowed. But he looked completely serious. “You can't gift him beef jerky, Az! Two years in a row at that.”
“Why not? He likes it.”
Elain shook her head in disbelief. “Because he's your brother. You always come home with a new present for me, but you can't think of anything different for your brother?”
Azriel smirked. “I'm not in love with my brother, angel.”
It was her turn to blush now. She knew he loved her, of course. They'd said it before a thousand times. But Azriel had his own way of saying it when she least expected it — reminding her whenever he could, catching her off guard and making her heart beat faster every single time.
“You know that's not what I meant,” she mumbled. She preceded him up the few steps to their front door, her fingers stiff even inside the gloves. She fumbled with the key for a moment before she managed to turn it in the lock.
The warmth of the living room welcomed her inside, the smell of the bread she'd baked that morning still lingering in the air.
“It can be difficult to come up with something new and different after five hundred years,” Azriel said as he followed her in. He set the bags down before turning to face her. “You'll see.”
Elain took off her gloves, then her hat, his words swirling in her mind. “You know, it used to scare me,” she mused. “The thought of having eternity in front of me.”
Azriel watched her carefully. “But now it doesn’t?”
She shook her head, stepping closer. “No.” Her arms wrapped around him, and she rested her chin on his chest, tilting her head up to look at him. “Because now I get to spend it with you.”
His throat bobbed. She was the one who'd caught him off guard this time. At a loss of words, Azriel buried his fingers in her hair, angling her head so he could lean down and capture her lips in a kiss that left her dizzy. The kind of kiss that usually meant they would take things up to the bedroom. Or whatever nearest surface they could find.
But he pulled back instead. Elain's heart was already racing in her chest, and she was rising on her toes for another kiss when he spoke again.
“I have a surprise for you.”
She stopped, lowering herself onto her feet. “Winter Solstice is still a week away.”
With the holidays nearing, he’d stopped getting her little gifts out of nowhere. He said he wanted to wait because everything had to be perfect this year. Their first Solstice together.
“It's not a present,” he replied. His hand slid from her hair to her cheek, and she had trouble focusing as his thumb brushed her lip. “It's something I want to do with you. I wanted to wait till Solstice, but now it just feels like the right moment.”
Elain could only nod. “Okay,” she whispered.
His chuckle was a low rumble that resonated deep in her chest. “What happened, angel?” he asked softly. “Where did your voice go?”
“You're… distracting me.”
It took her a moment to snap out of it, to find the strength to step back and let his hand fall away from her face. But she didn't miss his smug grin at her admission.
She cleared her throat, trying to clear her mind as well and focus on Azriel’s surprise. “What do you want to do?” she asked as she reached for the first button of her coat.
Azriel's hand gently caught hers to stop her. “Keep it on,” he said. “We need to go back outside.” At her curious look, he added, “I want to take you to Rhys's cabin.”
Well, that was certainly a surprise.
“Rhys's cabin?” she repeated, even as she slid her gloves back on. “Why?”
He smiled, offering her the hat she'd hung on the coat rack. “It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, angel.”
“Right,” she chuckled. She made sure to grab a warm scarf as well this time before silently offering him her gloved hand.
Azriel took it in his larger one, and then they were winnowing out of Velaris and deep into Illyrian territory.
The first thing Elain noticed was the cold, her breath forming a faint puff in the air. Then she took in the snow that covered everything, white and bright under the afternoon sun.
Azriel's hand tightened around hers, and he guided her toward the cabin just a few yards away. The snow reached their calves, and never before had Elain been so glad to be wearing boots.
“I'm starting to question why you brought me here,” she mumbled, struggling to wade through the snow even as she followed directly in the path his footsteps left behind.
“I'm sorry, angel,” he replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I promise it'll be worth it.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, sizing her up as if he was pondering picking her up and carrying her to the cabin. But a few more steps finally brought them to the door, and he ushered her inside.
Her breath caught as she looked up.
Every wall was covered in paint, drawings in a style that she immediately recognized as her sister’s.
“Are those…?”
Azriel nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “Yes. Feyre painted them.” He let go of her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Wait here. I’ll get what we need.”
Elain watched him disappear down the hallway, wings tucked tight against his back. She sank onto the couch, admiring her sister’s artwork all over the room, its colors adding warm to the otherwise bare place.
Azriel was back in a matter of minutes, two pairs of shoes in his hands.
As he walked closer and took a seat next to her, she noticed the thin blades attached to the soles. She frowned even as she accepted the pair that he offered her. “What are these exactly?”
He was already working on swapping his boots with the new ones. “You’re asking a lot of questions today,” he quipped with a smile. “Put them on, angel. They’re Mor’s, but they should fit you. You’ll find out what they're for soon enough.”
Elain let out a dramatic sigh, hiding her own smile as she leaned down to take off her boots. “You’re lucky I love you, Shadowsinger.”
Azriel’s eyes softened. “I never once doubted it, angel.”
When she was done, he helped her stand, giving her just enough time to balance herself on those strange boots before he winnowed them again. She instinctively gripped his arm to steady herself as they reappeared on the shore of a frozen lake. She looked around, her eyes searching the snowy expanse, but there was nothing in sight expect the white mountains.
Before she could ask anything — despite knowing how slim her chances of getting a straight answer out of Azriel were — he stepped back. Right on the icy surface of the lake.
Elain gasped, expecting the ice to give way beneath him and send him plunging into the freezing water below.
But nothing happened. The ice didn't even creak under his weight. Azriel simply stood there, a smile on his beautiful face, and extended a hand toward her. “Come join me, angel.”
She hesitated, glancing down at his feet. Though she was standing on the same thin blades, she wasn’t moving, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t fall flat on her face if she tried to step forward.
“Why are we stepping on the ice?” she inquired, hoping to buy herself a little more time.
“We're skating,” Azriel explained, finally giving her an answer. To demonstrate, he glided backward a few feet, his wings flaring slightly to steady him before he slid back toward her. He gracefully stopped right at the edge of the lake. “You should give it a try.”
Elain didn't move. He made it look so easy, but who knew how many times he had done this before? He also made wielding a sword look easy.
“You won't fall, Ellie,” he reassured her, as if he had read her mind. He reached out with both hands. “And even if you do, I'll be here to catch you. I promise.”
She might not trust herself, but she trusted him — trusted that he would always be there to catch her if she fell. So she took his hands and slowly set one foot on the ice, then the other.
Azriel smiled at her, his fingers firm around hers. “That's it, angel. We'll take it one step at a time. Just bend your knees a little and follow my lead.”
She did as he asked and when he moved back, he gently pulled her along. Her feet glided over the surface of the lake, leaving faint lines behind.
He gave her a few instructions, guiding her further from the shore, never letting go. Slowly, Elain became more confident, more stable on her feet as she got used to the movements. It reminded her of a dance, one that could be elegant and beautiful when someone was skilled. She made a mental note to tell Nesta about it later.
“Where did you learn to do this?” she asked. Azriel was holding only one of her hands now, and they skated side by side. Still slowly, but they had gained some speed. “It doesn't seem like a typical Illyrian activity.”
Azriel laughed. It was that beautiful, deep laugh he reserved just for her. “You're right. It's not.” His laughter softned, but its warmth lingered in his voice. “It's common in the Winter Court. Viviane taught Mor a few centuries ago, and she taught the rest of us.”
He slowed them to a stop, shifting to stand in front of her. “I never thought I would, but I took a liking to it.”
Elain smiled up at him. “I think I like it too.”
“I thought you might.” He brought her hand up to his lips, placing a kiss on her gloved knuckles. “Want to try skating on you own?”
She thought about it for a moment, then she nodded. “Alright. But don't wander too far, okay?”
Azriel's smile was bright and soft. “Never, angel.”
He let go of her hand and moved a few feet away from her. At first, she faltered without his grip to steady her, but she quickly adjusted, his earlier instructions echoing in her mind.
For every step she took toward him, Azriel moved further back. Elain felt like a child learning to walk, her movements awkward but growing more confident with every push of her foot. Soon, gliding over the ice came naturally. And Azriel was always there, his hands outstretched to catch her if she fell. But she didn’t.
When he stopped and she reached him again, his hazel eyes were bright with pride and love. “You did it, Ellie.”
“Yes,” she replied, already intertwining their fingers again. “But don't let go of my hands again.”
Azriel's brow furrowed. “Why? You did great. You didn't even stumble.”
“I know.” Elain smirked, unable to hide her own satisfaction from her little accomplishment. “I just want to hold your hand.”
His expression softened, and a smile spread across his lips. That adorable dimple appeared once again, and with it came back her need to kiss it. Damn skates, she couldn't rise on her toes with those on.
“I will never let you go, angel,” he promised.
And he didn't.
Elain had no idea how much time they spent on that lake. It was just him and her, lost in the snowy mountains in the middle of nowhere. The silence was broken only by their laughter and quiet words. It felt as though they were the only two people in the world, free from worries and duties, lost in this moment, in each other, in a love born from quiet understanding and gentle touches.
The sun was setting by the time Azriel came to a halt, wrapping his strong arms around her. “We should probably get back,” he murmured, his voice soft as if to preserve the moment. “It's getting late.”
“And cold,” she added. Without the warm sunlight, the already cold air had turned into a freezing bite. Her scarf and hat didn't help much, and even Azriel's warmth couldn't stop her gloved hands from stiffening.
“We could take a hot bath,” she suggested. “Or I could make us some hot chocolate and we can cuddle in front of the fireplace.”
Azriel smirked, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “And losing the chance of seeing your gorgeous body? I think I'll choose that bath, angel.”
Elain's cheeks turned a deep shade of red. “I… didn't mean it like that.”
His face fell slightly as worry creeped into his eyes. “You know we don't have to do anything if you don't want to, angel. I'm sorry if I assumed—”
She cut him off with a soft smile. “Az, I just hadn't thought about it. I'd love to take a bath together.” She cupped his face with her small hands, her voice barely above a whisper. “Take me home, Shadowsinger.”
His arms tightened around her, and he winnowed them away without another word, her laughter echoing in the now-empty glade.
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dividers by @tsunami-of-tears
General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon
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avelanlorelay · 1 day ago
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Sorry to bother with questions but do we ever find out where Cardan was when he didn't return to bed with Jude those few nights? As he seemed to be avoiding the question when she asked. Was he with someone else?
Questions never bother me, I love to talk! I assume you're talking about that TQOF scene after Jude's presentation banquet. Feel free to disagree with me, but I think that to think that Cardan is just a womanizing boy is not to understand even half of his personality, especially when (I've already posted about this) he's the most sensitive character in the series.
In my view, it's implied in the book that Cardan's vice is drink, not sex. I'm not saying that he's a pure boy who didn't like taking part in orgies, but there are some points that show that it wasn't his priority. For example: Cardan isn't seen making dirty jokes or analyzing women's bodies like Valerian (except with Jude). He never had two lovers at the same time like Locke and Nicasia (I'm not saying that the intention of these two was just sex, but obviously there was a lot of desire for Jude on Locke's part and for Locke on Nicasia's part too).
And the main point for me, is that we see in TWK, when Jude invades Cardan's chambers at Balekin's behest, he is completely alone in bed, that is, at a time when he is worried about Jude and the situation of the kingdom is delicate, he doesn't have time to think about sex or anything like that, so to think that Cardan is still the same boy who only thinks about the pleasures of life and hasn't matured is to ignore his evident change in the second book. It's clear that in important situations, such as when the Crown of Blood is at stake, he no longer maintains the behavior of enjoying himself like a member of the circle of grackles.
It's not exactly proof, but on the same night that Jude breaks into his rooms, he confesses that Balekin forced him to take part in orgies, meaning that his perverted behavior was practically forced on him by his brother. It's no wonder that when he met a girl he liked, Cardan immediately committed himself to an engagement. And here, we all have to agree because it's obvious that he was always faithful in his commitment to Nicasia, their relationship was totally monogamous, otherwise he wouldn't have been so heartbroken by her betrayal.
Which brings me to the conclusion of your question: Cardan was faithful to Nicasia because he loved her and the two of them were engaged, in other words, they had a solid commitment. And he remained faithful to her until the engagement was broken. Cardan respects commitments, he has many faults but he is one of the few loyal characters in the books. So, throughout TQON Cardan and Jude had a real commitment, they were married by fairy law. Whether the marriage was consummated or not, I believe that he remained completely faithful to her. 1- Because he loved Jude and was completely fall with her.
2- Out of respect for their legitimate marriage.
3- Because he was too busy worrying about Jude's exile, her whereabouts after Madoc's invasion, her health and, most importantly, how to win her love. He wouldn't let himself be carried away by frivolous desires, especially when his greatest desire was her. I believe that when Jude asked where he was, Cardan didn't imagine that she might be jealous, so he answered without bothering to give details. Even when Jude expresses her feelings in words, he is still unsure and in doubt. Perhaps he was too embarrassed to say where he stood, or he was just a little slow to be objective. Someone here on tumblr already commented that he was probably in the Court of Shadows and I totally agree. And I would add that he probably spent nights drinking, playing cards and worrying about Jude's recovery and how to win her heart.
I think that sometimes, like Jude, we overcomplicate Cardan's thoughts and intentions, when in fact he is simple and even naive in his actions lol. Sorry for the long text, I hope I've answered your question 💗
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blooddrinkingbartender · 2 days ago
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"We'll just have to remind her that she wasn't to blame until it sticks in that case," Antonio said, before nodding, "I will hope so. And you did brilliantly yourself, quickly thinking with your own abilities and using the cuff. It was good to work with you as well. I will say though, it was mostly her. Her mindset and thoughts were still there beneath the mind control. My method was just guiding her back to them, and having the reassurance of knowing her found family is here to look after her."
Okay, and a bit of actual mental manipulation to get her to come close enough to get the cuff on her and make her feel too tired to fight, but it was for a good reason.
"Heh, may, may that scar forever be, be a tribute to, to the time you, you lived and, and that you're gonna keep living. And, and I'm fine, he, he just got my, my shirt," Russell said, "N-nothing more."
Bill made a move to go and fetch the requested juice from the kitchen, but Russell subtly shook his head. Travis was watching the front door for the time being, just to be safe.
"I'll, I'll do it," Russell then said, "Go, and, and get some rest. You've, you've done enough."
But then it was Travis' turn to yell in alarm when the ghost woman made her appearance. Antonio's tail briefly puffed up and his ears shot straight up. But then Travis once again put a hand to his chest and then took a deep breath.
"You forgot to tell me about the ghost lady, Custard," Travis said.
"No, she, she was one of the first people I, I mentioned," Russell said, as he moved into the kitchen to go and get the drink, "You want anything, Lucien?"
"Oh, my bad. I must have forgotten because of absolutely everything else I was taking in," Travis said, before nodding at Veronica, "Nice to meet you though. Sorry for the shouting. I'm new to all of this."
Bill would have usually protested other people doing things when he was meant to be the host, but it seemed he no longer had the energy to do so. He made his way back to where he was, slumping against the wall.
"I hope we will see each other again soon," Leofric said to Josh and Mark. Bill gave them a small wave of his own, "Under better circumstances."
"I apologise," Leofric said to Veronica. Despite not being able to properly see her, he still recognised the new presence by her smell and her voice, "I was caught unaware myself and subjected to one of the few things that can hurt me. It will take time to recover fully, but I can assure you this is temporary. That said, if you are feeling well enough to act, then I appreciate you allowing me to rest for a moment. Feel free to look through my bag for anything that might be of help."
Hopefully that moment would not become too many. He was sure Veronica would ask him for help if she needed it, so he took that moment to sit on the floor, his eyes closed and his back to the wall.
Antonio glanced over to the kitchen and then looked at Lucien.
"I'll offer Russell a hand. I may not be able to heal people, but I can at least help get refreshments together," Antonio said, as he then went to join Russell, who had found some apple juice and was pouring it into a glass. "You look like you could do with a sit down yourself."
Bill had shut his eyes briefly. At least in an effort to relieve his own feelings of sickness, but what surprised him was the feeling of wet on his cheeks. Red drips had started to slide down his face. They shot open, and his gaze shot around as he looked for a place to go and hide until he get the fact he had started crying out of control before anyone noticed.
"William?" Leofric's voice got his attention. Of course he could smell it, and of course he didn't realise what it was, given that he still couldn't see, "Are you bleeding? Were you hiding it?"
"No, no, no, I'm, I'm..." Bill's voice quivered and he couldn't but trail off as he put a couple of hands to face his face then. His shoulders shook and a quiet sob escaped from beneath his palms.
"Neither do I. Unfortunately, she most likely will." Lucien replied, before looking over, "You did an impressive job. I'd dare say Rook's recovery will be speedier entirely thanks to your efforts. It was a pleasure to assist you."
Yes, it was nice to finally have his own sidekick.
"Perhaps it's a downside to his own abilities." he then added, "I've been wondering why he left my shop in such a hurry. I hope the scar I left on his hand never fades and I'm glad he didn't leave you with any either, Russell."
They would recover from this too and perhaps finally gain the upper hand on that toxic moron.
Erica nodded, "Okay." She went right ahead to place Rook on the couch, then worked to remove her helmet and place it nearby. "I'd like some fruit juice if you got it. I'll get Rook out of this thing first, though. We should check that she isn't hurt."
She doubted that was the case, but she felt confirming that would have helped the general mood.
Erica's ears perked up, as the faintest scent of wildflowers caught her attention and she jumped up to greet Veronica. "Hello!"
The ghost lady barely had time to appear before she was hugged by a purring elf. Veronica gently patted her head while she looked around. "I see you all more or less got away. That's a relief."
"That guy messed with Rook's marks! He made her attack Bill." Erica explained, pulling back.
Veronica immediately set off to check Rook's condition. "...Boys."
Mark and Josh hurried over.
"Go help Edmund. The ship crushed on Liberty Island while we were missing."
"Got it. Keep us posted!" Mark said, before hurrying after Josh. Rook's sword was left by the door, as that was clearly the most reasonable place for it to be.
"You don't look too well yourself, Leofric." Veronica added calmly. She felt she didn't need to say more on the matter. Leofric was most likely perfectly aware of his own conditions.
Lucien figured that was a good time to remove the cuff from Rook's wrist, feeling it might interfere with Veronica's magic as well. He quickly stuffed it in his pocket, then took a moment to pull himself together while the room around him stopped spinning.
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recluserat · 1 day ago
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Hey, It's the Dwayne/Michael anon again. I'm curious...what do you imagine the dynamic to be between these two? As in, who makes the first move? Who's the most assertive/dominant in the relationship? Who confesses their feelings first? etc etc. And how did you think up this ship? Sorry if it's too many questions, it's just that you've gotten me hooked on these two lol
ooooooo anon, welcome back! I love these questions but I am going to be so honest with you that prior to seeing this ask I had not thought this hard about the ship. I have been going purely based off vibes and the gut feeling that those two ppl need to be kissing posthaste. That being said, I love this ask bc it made me actually sit down and think about the way I view these two as both characters and as a couple so here are my new answers: 1. Whenever I think of the two of them the ship dynamic that comes to mind is "silent and stoic x perpetually confused". At the same time though, I think Dwayne is an instigator who will nudge Paul and Marko with little comments and then sit back and watch the drama unfold. Meanwhile I feel like when it comes to the vamps, Michael doesn't really know what's going on but he keeps managing to get himself wrapped up in their shit. He likes to instigate as much as Dwayne does but he's not smooth enough with it to not be dragged along and also his big brother instincts kick in sometimes and he feels like he should back them up. Only sometimes though. Other times he's perfectly happy to sit back with Dwayne and laugh at the others. 2. I think that Dwayne would flirt with Michael first, but once Michael registers that this man is flirting with him he's 100% committing to it and will flirt harder than Dwayne. Dwayne has been around Santa Carla for a while and is like... Apex Predator Mode so I think he wouldn't be afraid to flirt with someone who catches his eye. Meanwhile Michael is new to town, probably not going to be making any moves on strangers straight off the bat yk. But once Dwayne opens that door Michael is fully tossing himself through it. 3. I have so many different Dwayne/Michael stories swirling around in my mind right now that I can't for sure say who I think would definitively always be the one to confess first, but I have imagined the different ways they would do it. I think Dwayne would do his best to use his actions rather than his words, acts of service/physical touch stuff first. He would give Michael special treatment ie. always buys him food on the boardwalk, give him first dibs on anything he wants, always finds excuses to be close to Michael and have his hands on him in some way whether that's fixing the collar of his jacket or just resting his hand over Michael's shoulder while they're standing around. If he HAS to verbally say it I think it would be quiet. Something short and straight to the point while also being flirty, smting like "You know you drive me crazy" or smthing while being all up in Michael's personal space. Meanwhile, with Michael I think he would also do the whole physical touch thing, but less consciously. He starts gravitating to Dwayne without even noticing - parks his bike next to him, sits with him on the couch, always looks to Dwayne first when one of the other guys makes a crazy suggestion to see what Dwayne thinks. I think that whenever Michael does verbally confess it would be big, and somewhat aggressive. Fists full of Dwayne's jacket while his voice is raised talking about how he felt watching someone else put their hands on him, sloppy kisses, that sort of thing. I like to picture the level of emotion that Michael had in the movie when he confronted David on the boardwalk with the whole "where's Starr?" thing. But because he's Michael I think he wouldn't even realize that he liked Dwayne like that until that big explosion. TBH, I'm not really sure where this ship came from. I feel like with TLB there's only so many ships you can do that involve Michael and the vamps. I've read a bunch of stuff on Ao3 and the most common ships I see are David/Michael, David/Starr, Michael/Starr, and poly vamps+michael. I love rare pairs and Dwayne is my favorite character so one day I was just kinda like... what if.....????? and started writing about the two of them together. Thank you for this ask! I have so many more ideas for Dwayne/Michael stuff now that I have to go write down somewhere
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deeplyshalllow · 2 days ago
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Hi,
I absolutely love your posts on Fiyeraba scenes in the Wicked movie! I wanted to ask and this is just a thought I had but do you think Fiyero heals Elphaba with his acceptance of her appearance and as a person, because her major trauma stems from her father's rejection at her birth cause you hear "take it away" at many points throughout pivotal moments. Now that I think about it, her friendship with Glinda could be represented as a version of Elphaba's dynamic with Nessa where the sisters love each other but Nessa never protects Elphaba the way she does.
What are your thoughts on this?
Keep up the great content!!! 😃
Firstly, I am so sorry it's taken me this long to reply! It's been on my to do list all week but Pre Christmas and work and the need to also write a 3500 word essay on the Lion Cub scene, has made it hard for me to find the time to write a proper answer.
Short answer: I agree.
Long answer: I think Elphaba is hugely damaged by the way her father treats her. I think she has been othered all her life, including by the people who should love her and she so desperately loves. And a lot of this presents itself both in doing anything for them, even when it personally hurts her, and almost deliberately making sure everyone else sees her as a person as "ugly" as her green skin. Because, if she does that, she doesn't end up finding other people whom she loves who don't love her back or betray her, as she says in the Lion Cub scene, she sees it as an issue that she "cares so much".
There's actually three people at Shiz who really challenge Elphaba's view of the world.
Firstly, Doctor Dillamond, who shows her kindness and also regards her as a friend. But it is important to note that he is also othered, Elphaba's fight for the Animals is to some degree because she sees herself in them, she wants them to be able to fit in in a way she never has had. She empathises and her bond with Doctor Dillamond is stronger because they both share similar problems.
Galinda and Fiyero are the first, I think, to get Elphaba out of her shell. They are the ones who love her for who she is, nothing to do with her green skin, and yes, I do think it's healing. She's let down her mask of defensiveness and discovered that people do like her for what's underneath! There is a moment in the movie, when everyone is cheering Elphaba off at the train station where I thought "ok, they could just end the story here and it's the most heartwarming, happy ending for Elphaba" and obviously it's tragic that this is never to be.
Interestingly, I think Elphaba initially regards Morrible and the Wizard as people who see her for who she is too. Morrible because she's very motherly and values Elphaba when she wants to use her for her power (especially in the movie), and the Wizard because Elphaba has grown up believing him in an almost God like way - being so sure he will understand and know best. So that it is ultimately them that betray her hits her very hard.
Which leads to Defying Gravity and Act 2. Where, unfortunately, a lot of this healing for Elphaba is reversed. She's betrayed by Morrible, the Wizard (and to an extent Glinda) when she's condemned as a Wicked Witch, people still judge her for the colour of her skin. She does fight to do what is right, but she does it while sacrificing herself, what she wants, who she loves, what will make her happy - what she had been doing her entire pre Shiz years for Nessa.
There are so many heartbreaking lines in act two where we see how hurt Elphaba is by losing people she trusted or cared about:
"Boq, it's just me, I'm not going to hurt you!"
"Nessa, I have done everything I could for you but it has never been enough and it never will be"
"Don't you think I wish I could? That I could go back to the time when I believed you really were wonderful? The Wonderful Wizard of Oz? Nobody believed in you more than I did."
"Fiyero, not you too," (though obviously this one gets very quickly resolved)
"I can't believe you would sink this low! To use my sister's death as a trap to capture me?!"
So, when we get to As Long As You're Mine, and the scene afterwards, I think Fiyero does attempt heal her, and I do think it does good, but there's also this line:
Elphaba: I wish I could be beautiful... for you. Fiyero: Elphaba... Elphaba: Don't tell me that I am, you don't need to lie to me.
Elphaba's wounds cut deep. And, if I'm honest, I'm not sure she's ever going to be fully healed.
I do think the end of the show, Elphaba passing the task of helping Oz onto Glinda, of being able to go with Fiyero and live a life for themselves is a way to heal. She's given so much of herself to her cause, because she doesn't really value herself as a person, Fiyero - who loves her for who she is and will do anything for her including laying down his life, lets her finally do something for herself that makes her happy. And likewise Glinda, though she doesn't necessarily know it, carrying on her legacy, means Elphaba no longer has to worry about leaving the fight - she knows Oz is in safe hands.
Through the two people she loved the most, by the finale Elphaba might finally be able to heal.
Also, as I have nowhere else to put it: I think her father's treatment of Nessa also fucks Nessa up. I know they're going to change it for the movie, as it's seen as ablest (and I don't want to say it's not as I have a friend who literally has a Doctorate in disability history who sees it as ablest too) but I've always seen the fact that Nessa thinks her chair as a curse as an attitude driven by her father. Her father, in blaming Elphaba for Nessa's disability and coddling Nessa because of it, has always made Nessa feel like it's her defining trait and it's something wrong with her. This has led Nessa to both treat Elphaba as if she owes her something, but also believe her life would be perfect if she could walk - a belief that is brutally smashed in Act 2 when she is given the ability to walk.
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coolfireguy73 · 2 days ago
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Hello everyone, I'm... back ?
For anyone that may interest, it's me AG. You probably forgot about me.
Hi !
First of all I wanted to apologies. I don't didn't have that huge of a following but for the few people that followed my stuff and liked my AUs, I'm sorry I have essentially disappeared.
I have a few things to say about why I did and I will announce something regarding the Child mercs AU at the end of this.
So if you are not interested in anything else you can skip to "It brings us to today" further down.
For everyone else (not many I assume):
When I discover something new, a new game, a new anime or whatever, I may hyperfixate on it. I'll only talk about it, I'll only draw fanarts of it etc... Like TF2, this was one of my hyperfixation.
I say was because , for some reason, I can only hyperfixate on one fandom at a time. I can have a lot of things I like and care a lot for, but when it comes to the things that dictates my life and art (Like TF2 did) I can only have one.
I don't know why, I've always been like this and I kinda hate it at times.
Anyway, like you may have seen from my last posts, before leaving I fell into the JJBA fandom.
This was (and still is) my new hyperfixation.
I could literally feel it replace TF2 in my mind. And I hated it.
I still love TF2 dearly, but it had been... "replaced" in a way.
I had a lot of unfinished projet I knew a would have a harder time finishing because I had moved on to something else.
I tried to continu the comic twice. And both time the file got deleted.
I lost what little will I had to continue it.
An I'm sad about it. I hate it when I get invested in something that's unfinished. And I said multiple times that I would finish it ! That and the Cryptid AU.
But I never did.
It brings us to today:
I wanted to do this for a while and with the final entry of the TF2 comics finally out I figured now was a good time.
Even though I want to, I don't know when or even IF I'm going to finish drawing the comics.
THAT SAID, though the drawings aren't finished, the story, the description of what would have been on every page is !
It's been since before I started drawing it.
And I thought I could do something with it.
I can publish the last pages of the Child mercs comic in written form. Every drawing described and with the dialogue that should have accompanied it.
You'll essentially have the entire story, just, without the little drawings.
But only if you still care about it. And I know some of you did and even if only one of you want it, I'll do it.
It won't be the version I wanted, with my drawings, but if I never make them, at least you can enjoy the end of the story. And I'd hate to keep that from you forever.
Again I'm sorry for leaving, I figured you wouldn't want to see Jojo Fanart when I hadn't even finished my TF2 projects.
I'm still very grateful for all the nice comments I received, and maybe one day I'll come back with a few TF2 drawings to show you :)
P.S.: I never had a written thing for the Cryptid AU, I kinda want to rewrite it entirely but I'm working on another project. Though it's nearing completion so maybe I'll have time.
I mainly wanted to say, though I didn't have any idea where the story was heading, I did have an idea why they all became cryptids so if you want to hear about it too. Let me know.
Anyway, have a good one everyone.
And thanks for everything :)
-AG
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other-floret-friend · 2 days ago
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OMFG I JUST FOUND OUT YOU WERE FLORTED CONGRATS GIRL!!!!!!! Watching the little pumpkin beeper fall into florethood makes me smile so much (not as much as hugging miss Iris' core >///<) but you are so adorable Robyn, I'm surprised you haven't checked the seedr forums about you, there's memes about you and requests to kiss youuuuu! Among many MANY kinky things lots of independents and florets of all species seem to wanna do to youuuu!
Oh how it makes me want to wrap my tail around your waist While I sink my fangs into your neck-
Oh um, sorry, class A's make me think the craziest stuff @~@
-Hannah Snapheart, first floret
Gosh, uh, thank you! I'm kind of taken aback at how people seem to have responded to me being florted, I always thought it'd be a way quieter affair... but, um, t-there's forums about me?? I had no idea Seedr was even a thing... I-I should totally look into that, ahaha... especially if so many indepenedents and florets want to... um...
A-and, uh, I'm sure Mistress wouldn't mind me setting up some playdates or anything! She seems to like the idea of me being a "free-use princess", which... g-gosh, that's embarrassing to even think about, ahah...
And, uh... i-it's okay, Mistress puts me on some xenodrugs sometimes too... I think she keeps spiking my compiler food with them, you're so right about class-A's just... hhhh...
- Robyn Atramentaria, Fourth Floret! ...it still feels so surreal to type that...
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