#if anyone who's been paying more attention to all this than me wants to chime in w/ their observations feel free to leave a comment

[gothicrazor]

Anything for you [P1]

Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader || Rating: PG(?) || WC: 1.4k

Inspiration: Foreigner's God - Hoizer

Content Warning: afab reader, unrequited love (both reader + Kurt), Kurt pining

Authors Note: First time writing for X-Men! Please be kind to me I'm trying pookies, hopefully this turns out okay or I might actually weep! I dunno if anyone would want a part two of this, just lemme know ig??? Also let it be known I used deepL for the few things he said in German... Please don't hate me 😔

Who knew the kiss on the back of a gloved hand could really tank someone's mood as quickly as anything else at a typical Saturday night dinner. Watching the gleam drain from your eyes across the table was something he's sadly used to now. Following your eyes to the end of the table to what he knew you were staring at.

His dear sister and one of his closest friends. Rogue and Gambit. The strongest "couple" next to their leader and his wife. A force strong and immovable. Rogue, too scared to stray. And Gambit, too loyal to look anywhere but her eyes half the time.

And it kills you. Anyone who knows you can see your heart break every time they connect.

Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention to you, no one but the blue mutant across the table from you. He finds it hard to keep his eyes anywhere but on you. Always has since you met all those years ago. He's seen you at your best, the fierceness burning behind your eyes during the heat of battle. And at your worse... Grieving the loss of something you could never have in the first place.

Your chair screeches, moving across the hardwood of the dining room harder than you intended. Standing up too fast, everyone stared in surprise.

"I'm gonna turn in early." Scott's brow rose behind ruby quartz shades as he stood up.

"Everything okay?" You smile, trying to keep up the facade, not wanting to openly weep in front of the team you call family.

"Just a little tired from training." You grab the edge of your half-eaten plate of dinner before you're met with the rough hand of Logan next to you on your wrist.

"Leave it kid, go get some shut eye." His face almost looks slightly worried, as you don't even put up an argument as usual. Just nodding, you push your chair in and hurry out of the dining room.

Kurt watches you leave, tilting his head to watch you rush up the foyer stairs as chatter picks back up at the table.

"Do you think she's sick?" His ears perk up to the concerned whisper of Jean's voice, looking at Scott as he sat back down at the head of the table.

"It's not unlike her to keep quiet when she's not feeling the best."

"She's barely been eating more than half her food in the past week Scott, I'm starting to get worried. She hasn't been like this since the Professor died." Kurt's head turns, chiming in with his usual soft tone.

"I'll check on her after dinner." Jean and Scott both looked at him. Jean smiling softly as she squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you, Kurt. She'd probably talk to you before any of us." He nods, his dark hair bouncing lightly before turning his attention back to dinner.

Walking down the hall, he stops at your door, glancing at your nameplate before raising his fist to knock. Freezing for a moment, knowing you'd expect him to come upstairs anytime after you left. Why should he bother to knock at this point?

But Kurt is quite literally a creature of habit. So he does.

Two soft wraps hit the door before grabbing the knob, edging the flat wood open to peek inside. Your room is still dimly lite, only the moon from your window cast over the person-sized lump under the covers of your bed. A soft mutter of your name leaves his lips, yellow eyes glowing as he looks down at the bed.

"Can I come in?" A whimpered 'yes' is all he gets in return, stepping inside with the subtle click of the door closing behind him. The familiar creak of the bed fills the room as he sits on the edge, tail curling over your legs covered by blankets. Hand meeting your side under the covers, eyes falling to their usual worried state, like every time he's comforted you this way before.

Rubbing gently over your lower back, he doesn't say a word, just feeling the slight tremble of your body hidden away from his line of sight. You sniff, pulling the blanket from over your head to look at him, eyes bloodshot and miserable looking. Something he's seen too many times before but still breaks his heart seeing you like this.

"Can you lie with me, please?"

"Anything for you, mein Schatz." He gets up, walking around the bed, pulling the covers back as he climbs in next to you. Fixing them back in place, you assume your natural spot of your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulder. The gentle rub of his hand down your bicep in a soothing gesture.

"Are you okay?" His voice barely raised above a whisper, his cheek settling onto the top of your head. You take in a sharp bit shaky breath trying to calm yourself.

"It's getting harder and harder to be around them... I don't..." You choke up for a second, breathing out a soft whimper.

"I don't know... How much longer can I stand to see them together... It's so unfair of me to feel this way because he'll never love me... Not like Anna, but I just can't... Stop it. I just - I feel terrible for so many reasons." Kurt hugs you tighter, knowing that feeling all too well. Unrequited affections for someone who'll never see you as anything more than a good friend. It almost hurts him knowing you're feeling how he feels constantly.

"I know, I wish I could take the pain away from you." You shudder, sniffling against his chest. Tears welling up in your eyes as you hold onto him like a lifeline, trying to ground yourself in desperation. Squeezing your eyes shut, the tears slipped, soaking the front of his suit.

"I feel so stupid." You whine, starting to hiccup against him, tears sliding past your lashes in groves. Kurt shushes you, moving his hand to your back to cradle you closer. Sharp claws raking over the back of your uniform, gentle touch as he always has with you. His hand moves up, thumb rubbing over your cheek and turning up your chin to look at him.

"You are not stupid, meine Liebe. It's okay to feel this way. The heart wants what it wants. Unforgiving or not, you can't help that."

"Why does it have to be him of all people?" His lips turned to a frown, seeing the hurt behind your eyes. Still wiping your eyes with his thumb, he just shakes his head.

"I wish I could give you the answers. Remy is... A kind man who deeply cares for those he loves. I can see the appeal. But you'll be okay. Eventually, I'm sure of it. You're very strong after all." You just blink, breath quivering as you start to calm down a bit.

"I'm strong..." You mutter under your breath, making him smile slightly before your head goes back to him. Finding his shoulder to lean on, you take in a deep breath, shutting your eyes as you exhale and repeating the words like a prayer.

"Ja, the strongest I know."

"Thank you, Kurt, I don't know what I'd do without you." You give a weak smile as you relax against him, feeling his head leaning against yours.

"And you'll never have to find out, that's a promise." You smile a little wider, a chuckle escaping your lips.

"Can you keep holding me for a little while longer?" He smiles against the top of your head, soaking in the shared warmth between the two of you.

"Of course." You sink into his body, putting your full weight against him. His grip tightened around you. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes wandered from your relaxed expression to the window. Watching the night sky as you slowly drift off in his arms.

Feeling you go slack in his grip, Kurt looks at how relaxed you are now. Thumb moving back over your delicate features like a feather. Something he's done too many times now. But you're so beautiful to him. He can't help but want to touch you. Lips pressing the crown on your head, lingering longer than necessary.

"Ich liebe dich..." His eyes shifted back down to your face, waiting for a reaction he never got. Good or bad. It's just another confession that's gone unheard dozens of times now. No matter how much he's said it.

Smiling at your sleeping expression, he moves down the bed. Shifting onto his side to hold you against his chest. His tail wraps around your waist as he keeps you close.

Cherishing the little moments, he gets to pretend he has your heart... No matter how much it hurts his heart.

♡Thanks for reading♡

[dragonmama76]

Working on part 2 of Beginnings, but until then here’s a small interlude. You can read the first bit here Part One

“Are you excited to start high school?” Steve feels like every lame adult he’s ever known, but he’s been wanting to have this conversation for a while now, preferably before his gang of nerds walk unprepared into his alma mater.

“I mean, sure.” Dustin says. “They have an amazing media lab and the AP science teachers are supposed to be really good. It’s never too early to think about college! Uh, sorry Steve.”

“Alright, shut it. If I had a brain like yours maybe I’d be in college now.” Steve rolls his eyes affectionately.

“And I heard Nancy say there’s an after-school club for D&D, so that might be okay. I mean, it won’t be as good without Will there but…” Mike trails off, a frown settling on his face.

“Yeah, okay I guess your demons and dingbats thing could be good.” Steve feels vaguely uneasy. Something to do with that club...it probably doesn't matter.

“Well, I’m also trying out for the basketball team.” Lucas adds softly.

“My man!!” Steve grins and holds his hand up for a high five. “I’m around if you want to get some practice in before tryouts. And I've got an in with the coach if you want me to put in a good word for you.”

“Nice! I'm always up for more practice!" Lucas grins back matching Steve's enthusiasm.

"And nepotism," retorts Dustin.

"Okay, brain boy. I don't know what that is, but it sounds gross and we don't have it." Steve smirks and cocks his head before remembering this was supposed to be a serious conversation.

"Anyway...I just wanted to talk to you guys about sticking together and always having each-other's backs." Steve starts and Dustin, of course interrupts, "Obviously, Steve. Who do you think we are?"

"No, man, I know. It's just that it can be pretty intimidating and the bullying can be...more intense than what you're used to in Middle School." Steve conceeds.

"Like you'd know anything about being bullied!" snorts Mike, "You were the bully."

"Uh...well." Steve doesn't want to scare the kids, but he does want them to be prepared. "I was kind of an asshole for a while..."

"Ya think?" Dustin chimes in.

"Shut up and let me talk!" Steve says in his best mom voice. "I had to learn to be harder in school. My freshman year this older kid made me his target and it was pretty awful. It got so bad I didn't even want to go to school half the time."

"That really sucks, man." Lucas gives Steve a supportive look.

"Aw, what, did he call you names? Make fun of your hair?" Mike sneers. He can't help but run his mouth sometimes. He likes Steve well enough, but not like Dustin and Lucas do and he can't stand how they worship him sometimes. Steve isn't that great.

"Dude. He pulled a knife on me for like, no reason. I was fourteen."

"Woah" Dustin just exhales. "So like, is high school....dangerous?" All three boys are seriously paying attention now, eyes wide.

"Nah, not normally. Anyway, it got better once I was deep in with the guys on the basketball team. So I'm just saying. Find a group that has your back. And you guys look out for other kids too, all right? And tell ME if anyone bothers you. I've got a bat that can sort them out."

"Dude....you can't just nailbat a teenager." Dustin snorts.

"I dunno, squirt," Steve ruffles Dustin's hair and he yelps ducking away, "If I find out anyone is messing with you guys....well, maybe not the nail bat, but just...promise to tell me okay? I don't want anyone of you going through what I did."

"We promise." They all chime dutifully.

"Hellfire!" Mike shouts as they all turn to look at him like he's got three heads. "What?" he says, "That's the name of the club."

"Hellfire." Steve mutters. Why does that name make his stomach hurt? He'll probably remember later. Meanwhile he's glad his twerps are going to have a good support system when they start school.

Read Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Tag list (ask if you want to be tagged for the full part 2) @swimmingbirdrunningrock @phirex22 @lilpomelito @thaliaisalesbian

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (22)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: E (Dirty talk, PIV) Words: 1.6k Summary: Make me immortal

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

They ain’t watching him near as close as they oughta.

It’s been four days of cross-country trekking, and by his count they couldn’t be more than another day or two from the Stateline. Any moment now they were liable to run into some patrol and while this bunch were treating him like a colleague it was anyone’s guess what Nero’s own crew might do.

His time was running out.

Unfortunately, they were keeping double watch now - one person always watching her and the other keeping a more general eye on things. It made taking them by surprise difficult, and they weren’t quite stupid enough to arm him.

Tonight was the first exception. They’d made camp in an old building that happened to have working doors. After a pretty thorough check they’d locked her inside, tied to some piece of the structure.

“I hear fellas like you can live a long time,” Sancho says after some time passes. His name weren’t Sancho but Cooper hadn’t been arsed to learn his name the first time around and he wasn’t starting now.

“Depends on what you think is long.”

“I heard of a guy who’s been alive since before the bombs fell,” Panza chimes in. Panza isn’t his favorite, he’s the one who hit her. He’s going to die soon - he just doesn’t know it yet.

“Ain’t no one been around that long,” Sancho scoffs.

Cooper barely pays them any attention, staring into the small fire. Well, past it actually, where the youngest of the three had disappeared not ten minutes ago.

It’s been dead silent since. He’s not sure he’d even be able to hear them talking, but he’s pretty sure he could hear her if she screamed. That door wouldn’t do jack shit to stop him if she did.

“You know we ain’t sharing the bounty, right?” Panza asks with a small frown. “Ain’t nothing against you, ghoul. Just that three’s two too many already if you ask me.”

Cooper cuts his eyes the man’s direction. “I ain’t looking for the bounty - hoping I might be able to find more work. Something to do. Getting bored out here with you shitheads.”

The man laughs just as Cooper intended. “Well that’ll be-”

The door slams open and the Kid stomps out, clutching the water and the small bag of rations. “She says she don’t want nothin’.”

“What do you mean… tell her she ain’t got a choice. She ain’t eaten since she tried to run off.”

“I tried that, but you said-”

Cooper’s on his feet already, seeing the opportunity and taking it. “I’ll do it.” The trio eye him skeptically and he cocks his head at them. “She trusts me. ‘Sides, this way you only got one thing to guard.”

None of them trusted him, which was fair, and he’d slept like a baby even as he listened to the racing heartbeat of whoever had been assigned watch the last few nights. He was counting on lack of sleep being a helluva persuader.

“Nah, you’re right. We’ll unlock you in the morning.”

Perfect.

Cooper waits for the door to close, adjusting his eyes to the dim light from above. The room is solid walls with a dirt floor, the only point of entrance the gaping hole in the ceiling and the woman tied to a post in its center.

“Brought you some vittles.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry.”

“You need to put some food in your system or you won’t make it to the Stateline.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide and sad and it’s a kick to the gut. “When will we get there?”

“Tomorrow, I reckon. Maybe the day after.”

She nods thoughtfully and rests her head on her folded arms once more. The ropes around her ankles shift slightly as she moves and he maneuvers carefully to sit beside her, leaning back against the same rock.

“If you plan to starve yourself to death you’re going to need more time.”

She laughs softly, “Not sure I even could. With how I heal and all.”

He considers that for a moment and passes her the water. After a long moment she takes it, gulping it down before handing it back. “Reckon tonight is our best chance to get free.”

“I don’t think-” she starts and he turns on her sharply. When he doesn’t say anything she continues, “I think I have to go, actually.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? After all this fuss you’re just going to give in?”

If looks could kill he’d be a pile of ash. “I have to put a stop to this - to more people like me and assholes like him buying them.”

“Ah,” he says softly. “So this is a vengeance mission.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Not a bit, I’ve been on a fair few in my time.” He passes her some food and she eyes it before nibbling on the edge. “The problem is those kinds of journeys tend to be one way.” She shrugs and it makes something in his chest hurt. “Now darlin’, you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

“I’ll do what I have to,” she pauses, then gives him a sidelong glance, “anything I have to.” Suddenly she turns to him fully, those gorgeous eyes of hers shining in the moonlight. “You think we’ll get there tomorrow?”

“Or the next day, it ain’t far now.”

She nods, biting her lip. And then she’s in motion. Before he can think. Before he can block her. Before he can do anything - she’s in his lap, throwing her arms over his head, and she’s kissing him.

She’s kissing him.

Whatever the danger is, it’s too late now. He sinks into it, wrapping an arm around her waist and reaching one hand up to clutch at her shoulder. Her tongue is everywhere, licking along his lips and teeth and he meets her with equal fervor. It lasts so long he runs out of breath, breaking away with a gasp and staring into her eyes.

He waits.

Nothing happens.

No light-headedness. No burning. No neurotoxin or chemical or anything at all in fact. Hell, other than a raging hard-on he feels exactly the same.

She looks dazed, blinking up at him before pulling him back for another kiss.

He ain’t ever been one to tell a lady no.

He guides her legs over his hips, settling her in his lap while she tries to suck his soul out of his mouth. Everything is hot and wet and he can feel her through his pants, soaking the fabric.

“Ah sweetheart,” he groans, slipping his hand under her panties to cup her ass. She grinds down in return, rocking on top of him in a mimicry of exactly what he wants as well.

“Lift up,” he tells her, “let me get these off of you.”

She does as he says, coming to her knees and letting him pull her panties down til they hang on one ankle.

“Tell me you want this,” he growls, licking into her mouth. “Tell me to fuck you, just like this.”

“I want it,” she nearly sobs, fingers digging into the back of his neck, “Fuck me, fuck me just like this.”

They moan together when he slides inside. It’s just as he remembers, tight and hot and so unbelievably good his eyes roll back in his head. Her mouth is everywhere, sucking on his neck, licking up to his ear, teeth biting at his lips. He tries to slow her down, to guide her with a hand on the nape of her neck, but she digs her fingernails into the back of his head and he lets her take the lead.

Lets her take him.

Everything is gasping softness, breaths mingling as they pant into each other’s mouths. He brings his hand around to cup her jaw, urging her to take his tongue. To give hers in return. And the entire time she’s moving on top of him, clutching him inside her.

“Ah fuck darlin’,” he groans. “I ain’t gonna last. Can you come like this?”

“Maybe,” she gasps in return. “I don’t know.”

He moves his hands to her waist, guiding her body into slow undulating rolls. “What do you need?”

“Make me,” she moans, pulling him in for another kiss, “tell me what to do. Make me yours.”

A low growl rumbles from his chest and he shifts so he can get his knees under him. Now he has power behind his thrusts, fucking up into her and touching something so deep it makes her whimper. 

“That’s it, fuck yourself on me,” he tells her. “And when I tell you to you’re going to come. Ain’t that right?” She nods, mouth open on his cheek and he grins. “That’s a good girl.”

One hand claws at the front of her dress and she helps him, moving her arms so he can shove it down and watch her breasts bounce with every roll of his hips. He covers one with his hand, catching the nipple between two fingers and pinching it hard.

“Come for me, come all over my cock.”

She does. Oh how she does. She screams and he cuts her off with his mouth, swallowing it down and feeling her pussy milking him so hard he comes too. Spilling inside and filling her up just like he’d been thinking of doing since the first moment he saw her on that damned radio tower.

Only he had never imagined that she would kiss him so sweetly afterwards. That she would pull bound wrists from behind his neck and cup his face in her hands and fucking make love to his mouth with the gentlest of nibbles and sweeps of her tongue.

“Again?” she asks once she catches her breath. Her mouth covers his and he can barely think straight as she licks inside.

Yeah. Sure. Again. Anything she wants. Always.

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[adnauseum11]

Officer in Charge

John recuperates with your help.

2.1k words

cw: 18+ for swearing, sex (MDNI)

feedback welcome

I wrote this chapter twice, the first time it was a ridiculous length and parts of it still felt flat. This version has been tightened up (can you guess where? lmao) and reads a bit smoother but MAAAN let me tell you that I like receiving oral sex more than I like writing about it at this point.

this work is part of the SNAFU series, Masterlist is pinned to my blog

Ao3

You can tell John is feeling better when he badgers you about your chopping technique from the corner of the sectional couch. You’ve taken it upon yourself to cook dinner tonight and have relegated him to the living room, but that hasn’t stopped him from chiming in. He’s installed himself where he can see you work, dressed for comfort after a shower in faded grey sweatpants and a pub t-shirt that pulls tight at his biceps. You’re only a little more put together in your bootcut jeans and ratty t-shirt, neither of you dressed to be anywhere other than home.

Despite his interference, (or perhaps because of it, not that you’ll admit it) you’re able to pull off a simple dinner of marinated pork chops and steamed broccoli with roasted potatoes. Over the course of tucking in to the food John floats the idea of going to dinner with his friend and her wife in the next few days. The offer gets your full attention once you realize it’s not someone you already know. You’ve never been invited to meet anyone from John’s work before with the exception of the man who stopped by the night of the break-in, and that was pure coincidence. This would be a first for you, being properly introduced to someone from his world, and curiosity takes hold.

You give your blessing for John to make plans for dinner while you clean up, half your attention on the rise and fall of his voice down the hall. He’s got a self-satisfied look on his face when he returns, catching you finishing up with the pot in the sink.

“We’ve got a reservation for the night before New Year’s Eve at that Chop House that opened recently. Kate and her wife will meet us there.”

“You’ve been talking about that place for weeks. It has the cigar lounge downstairs?”

“Yeah, same one.”

“Fancy, John. We’ll get to dress up.”

You dry your hands and turn to look at the handsome man taking up space at your elbow. He looks like he wants to say something else but hesitates, his lips pressing together as your eyes meet.

“What?”

You prod him, it being out of character for him not to speak his mind. He studies you for a moment before seemingly making a decision and pressing ahead.

“About that- “

“About what?”

“Do you still have the dress you wore to my birthday dinner a few years ago?”

Your eyebrows climb your forehead as John speaks. You would have bet money on John not really paying attention to what you wear, never mind recalling an outfit from years ago.

“What did it look like? Was it velvet?”

You ask for confirmation and John’s eyes light up in recognition, telling you all you need to know. You remember the dress, and you’re pretty sure you still have it in the recesses of the wardrobe. It’s an off the shoulder, dark green floor length velvet dress, with one full length sleeve that ends at your wrist. The cut of the dress is tight, leaving one arm and shoulder exposed, the soft velvet accentuating your curves.

“Yeah, still have it?”

John’s interest in the dress shouldn’t surprise you, it is a slinky number, but for some reason it takes you off guard. You were firm friends when you wore it last, and his birthday dinner had been with a group of people at an upscale restaurant – not an intimate affair.

“Yeah, you remember that?”

“Course I remember that night.”

John sounds affronted at your disbelief, as if you’re calling him old. His brow furrows and his head tilts, his blue eyes clear and keen once again, pinning you in place.

“No, I mean, what I was wearing that night – that was years ago John.”

His face shifts and his eyes heat as he reaches out, wrapping a hand around your wrist to reel you into him.

“You wore the hell out of that dress, darling. It left an impression. I’d love to see it again.”

You let yourself be bundled up in his arms and directed down the hallway, John’s lips running over the base of your neck lightly, his wiry facial hair teasing you. Shivers sweep you from head to toe, your fingernails biting into his forearms as he steers you forward. The male groan of satisfaction when he discovers your nipples have tightened against your shirt sends a flash of desire through you.

“I want you, love.”

John’s deep voice is earnest in your ear, travelling down your spine directly to your core, a low throb rolling through you in response to his admission. You can feel his growing interest pressing against your ass as he directs you into the bedroom, his tongue swirling over your pulse point before the light drag of his teeth make you gasp.

“You’ve been looking after me all day, my turn, yeah?”

The low reverberations of John’s voice in your ear turn your insides molten and you sag against him, pressing yourself back against the hard planes of his chest, letting him take some of your weight. His mouth traces the curve of your neck as his hands find your hips, his body crowding you and pushing you forward. He stops before you topple into the bed and spins you around to face him, the black of his pupils eating up the dark blue of his iris.

“This isn’t going to set back your recovery, is it?”

You ask, clearly more concerned about his wellbeing than he is at the moment.

“Darling, I could be half dead and still want you.”

He works his hands under your t-shirt, tugging it over your head before you can respond, a master of the well-timed distraction. The sweep of air over your exposed skin makes your nipples tighten and you can feel John groan, his warm breath washing over the base of your neck. Your hands rise to press against his chest, using his solid form to steady yourself as he crowds you again, fingertips sweeping up your sides to cup your breasts. Your palms slide up the muscle of his chest, tilting your head to find his lips and kiss him deeply.

The pass of his tongue over yours raises goosebumps on your arms, subconsciously pressing yourself closer to the heat of his body. John corrals you against him, strong hands landing on your ass, urging your hips against his while he takes charge of the kiss. The delicious rasp of his tongue against yours completely distracts you from his hands tracing your waist and undoing the button of your jeans. The brush of his fingers over your lower abdomen as he works your fly down has your stomach swooping with desire. You break away to suck in a shaky breath and John takes the opportunity to back you the last few steps into the bed, sending you tumbling backwards with a surprised yelp.

The jeans hanging off your hips don’t take more than a few tugs from John to disappear, his focus locked on your sprawled body. John’s intense when something has his attention, and unfailingly when he turns that intensity in your direction it stirs you, a prickle of awareness running through you as you look up at his big frame. You reach for him but he catches your wrists and holds your hands down against the bed, his mouth finding yours for another searing kiss, leaving you panting when he pulls away.

A low moan tumbles out of your throat as he presses kisses down your body, raking his teeth over the satin of your bra, catching your nipple in a gentle pinch. The heat of his mouth closing over your nipple through the material sooths the flare of pain and makes your breath catch in your throat. Your hands twitch in his grasp, eager to feel him but his fingers tighten, the unspoken message clear – don’t touch. You’re on the verge of whining at him when he releases you to tug your underwear down your legs and settle himself on his knees at the edge of the bed. Fistfuls of the duvet fill your hands instead of grabbing at him, suddenly not as willing to divert his attention by disobeying. His big hands skim up your hamstrings, encouraging you to drape your legs over his shoulders while he presses kisses over the delicate skin of your inner thighs. The confident swipe of his tongue over your silken folds pulls a groan from your lungs, arching your back off the bed.

The duvet strains against your grip, your heel pressing into the wide muscle of John’s back as the heated drag of his tongue on your clit makes your hips follow mindlessly. His warm palm settles low on your belly, thumb brushing over your pubic hair, holding you down against the mattress as his tongue teases you, alternating between toying with your clit and your increasingly slick entrance. You try to grind your hips against his face, making a sound of frustration when he withholds the pressure you’re growing increasingly desperate for. Your voice wavers when you say his name again, the ‘n’ getting drawn out as his tongue swirls over you tightly. He lifts off you enough to speak, his lips ghosting over your skin, sending bolts of lightning shooting up your spine.

“Tell me what you want, love. Let me hear you.”

He doesn’t wait for your reply, diving right back in, his mouth closing over your swollen clit while his finger sinks into you up to his knuckle, ripping a gasp from your lungs.

“Shit, god, make me cum – I want your mouth on me, yes, like that-"

John finally settles in to a steady rhythm, running the tip of his tongue up one side of your clit and down the other, sending your hips chasing the sensation thoughtlessly as much as his hold will allow. He deftly adds another finger, sliding home in your slick heat with a groan against your plush flesh. Each rocking thrust of his fingers is paired with his wicked tongue swirling and sucking your aching clit until your writhing against his face, panting desperately against the bedding. The wet heat of your pussy is clenching around his fingers, trying to draw him deeper, making him moan. Vibrations roll through you, your back arching and your toes curling tightly, your breath catching in your throat as you start to babble, begging for your release.

“Don’t stop, fuck that feels so good, John don’t stop- “

The bedding is tangled in your grip as your entire body throbs, teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Your wanton moan bouncing off the walls is nearly as loud as the thundering of your heart, your body humming with delicious tension. John rides the roll of your hips, an expert in reading you, and crooks his fingers to brush against the sensitive bundle of flesh deep inside as he fucks you with his hand. A broken cry wrenches out of your chest as the combination of John’s beckoning fingers and his relentless tongue shoves you over the edge, your body bucking mindlessly against him as you cum. A matching growl rumbles out of John as an extra wash of your arousal leaks from your spasming walls around his fingers, dripping from his knuckles. Your thighs clamp down on his shoulders, your grinding hips riding out your orgasm as his tongue laps greedily at your tender flesh. John only eases off when your legs sprawl open again, sucking his fingers into his mouth as you pant like you’ve just sprinted a hundred-yard dash. His beard shines wetly in the lights of the room when he leans over your prone body, your hands instinctively raising to tug at his shirt. He kisses you deeply, palms landing on either side of your head, the earthy salty taste of you on his tongue making your pussy throb all over again.

He breaks away to tug his shirt off, your hands dropping to cup the curve of his erection, currently tenting the front of his sweatpants. When John had initiated the shift in your relationship it had taken you a little while to get used to the new level of intimacy, but now you're unable to imagine not having him like this; flushed, hard and wanting. He pauses in taking the rest of his clothing off, his eyes locked on you, your fingers searching out the shape of him through his sweats, forcing a grunt out of his lungs.

“What is it?”

You ask, releasing him to hook your fingers in the band of his sweats, trying to tug them down from your reclined position. He catches your hands, stilling them against the wiry hair of his stomach for a moment.

“I have something for you.”

“Is it a condom?”

“That too.”

His voice is dark, a low gravelly purr, full of promise that makes the base of your spine tingle in anticipation.

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch @magsmagic @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @chickennn-soupp @fruitymoonbeams-blog @redwites @glitterypirateduck @tf141gloryhole

[tauforged]

Do you have any tips/tricks on getting into warframe? I want to play bc the designs look cool and I'm sure the story is just as interesting!

(It is completely OK to info-dump!)

OH BOY OH BOY!!!!!!!!

ive probably said it better before, but cant find the posts because this website has the worst search function known to all mankind -_- so i will give you some bullet points that will not be all inclusive and i invite anyone else who wants to chime in to do so!!

while the devs are definitely trying to streamline new player experience, the story is uh. a lot! the game has like, what, 11yrs worth of content behind it by now? there's a lot! depending on your playstyle and how you progress through the game, it might take you a while to really get into the meat of it -- or you might speedrun all the main storylines in like a month. there are lots of side quests and secondary objectives you can dick around with as much as you like, which some people find fun and some people find annoying. i liek it :) but it can definitely be a lot

there have been a lot of time limited events and hidden lore entries that make some things pretty inaccessible to new players. they seem to be trying to get better about this but its still not ideal. the wiki is not always right (afaik, theyre still hung up on whether or not albrecht and loid were ~canonically~ together, which is literally just blatantly textual) but it can be a good place to find summaries of shit you've missed out on. ive never watched a single one of those 'warframe lore explained' videos so i cannot vouch for any of their accuracy. i dont really pay attention to the subreddit or the official forums either, but those might have information too? idk

i personally find that some of the quests are thrown at you wayyyyy earlier than they should -- heart of deimos is one that i strongly believe should be way more lategame than it is, since it builds on a lot of stuff that you probably won't know by the time you get to it unless youve been paying veryvery close attention or have been going wiki spelunking. i wouldnt stress about it too much if something seems to make no fucking sense, though. most quests are replayable if you want to go back to something with fresh eyes or different context

i have probably already spoiled you on a lot of the lategame stuff and for that im sorry! lmao this isnt really a game where spoilers will ruin something per se, but since ive been playing the game since like 2013 i went into everything blind as it was released and i always had a huge blast when the game dropped a bombshell on us, so i try not to rob anyone of that experience if i can help it -- not a huge deal though depending on preference

there's a lot of grinding and farming. i personally dont find it overly tedious as there's a lot to do and it's easy to mix things up and take breaks, but for some people it's a huge turn off, so just a heads up i guess. you can technically bypass a lot of the grind by buying new frames or weapons off the market if you really want to spend your money on that, but there's some things that are locked behind a reputation grind and such. and honestly, you dont Need to spend money on anything but some cosmetics

trying to play through everything solo might be fun if you enjoy a challenge, but i personally find it to be unsustainable. you're going to want to find a decent sized clan and you're going to want to either find friends to play with or hit up the recruiting chat for backup.

you can make platinum pretty easy by farming prime parts or rare mods and other such tradeable things and selling them to other players. i dont bother with this because im bad at keeping up on video game economies and it never interested me. but it makes being a 100% f2p player a lot easier when you need to buy inventory slots and such

there are over 50 warframes and countless ways to mod each one, and an absurd amount of different weapons -- there isnt really any one playstyle thats 'better' than any other. i perosnally pay next to no attention to the meta outside of keeping in mind what damage types are effective against which enemies. some people really enjoy minmaxxing the hell out of their shit. you can kinda just do whatever

don't buy plat without having at least a 50% discount login bonus unless it is an absolute emergency. the discounts are random but ive found they happen often enough that i can just wait around for one to pop up and replenish if i'm low. or dont bother idk i cant tell you how to spend your money im not your dad

mute region chat for the sake of your own sanity. nobody in there is as funny as they think they are. moderation is better in there than it used to be but it's still a wasteland

the most important part of playing warframe is having fun and being yourself :)

[mangocustard16]

Baking Hearts💕💕

| synopsis: In a cozy bakery, a chance encounter between fan-favorite K-pop idol Joshua and a baking enthusiast Y/N leads to a sweet journey of love as they bond over their shared passion for baking, creating delectable treats, and discovering a love that rises like a perfectly baked cake.

| pairing: idol baker!joshua x gn!reader

| genre: fluff

| warnings: none

| notes:  idol joshua giving baking lessons (sign me upppp)

| w.c: 1k

| a/n: i have absolutely no idea about baking, never have i ever baked anything in my entire life of 18 yrs, so i'm sorry if the tiny baking parts violate the laws of baking.

The soft chime of the baking class door signaled your arrival. As you stepped into the warm and inviting bakery, you couldn't help but feel a nervous excitement, clutching your apron and recipe book tightly.

Today was the day you would finally attend the much-anticipated baking class, and you were determined to make the most of it. As you looked around, the scent of fresh bread and pastries enveloped you.

The cozy atmosphere immediately put your nerves at ease, but there was one person who seemed to stand out in the bustling room. Joshua, the charming and talented member of the K-pop group Seventeen, was already busy kneading dough and seemed right at home in the world of baking.

You had been a fan of Joshua's music for years, so seeing him here felt like a surreal dream. You took a deep breath and walked over to the baking station assigned to you, determined to focus on the task at hand and not get starstruck.

"Hi there," a warm voice greeted you. You turned to find Joshua smiling down at you, his flour-covered hands extended in greeting.

"Hi," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush slightly. "I'm Y/N."

Joshua's smile grew wider as he shook your hand. "I'm Joshua. It's nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you excited for today's class?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely! I've always wanted to learn how to bake."

The class began with the basics of bread-making. Y/N watched as Joshua demonstrated how to knead the dough, his hands deftly working the soft mixture. His smile was infectious, and the group of students found themselves paying more attention to him than the recipe.

As the class progressed, Joshua moved around the kitchen, offering assistance and tips to anyone who needed it. Y/N, however, found herself struggling with a particularly stubborn piece of dough. She sighed in frustration, and Joshua noticed her predicament.

"Having trouble with that, Y/N?" he asked, his voice as warm and comforting as his smile.

Y/N, her cheeks reddening, nodded. "Yeah, I can't seem to get it right."

Joshua stepped closer and showed her how to knead the dough properly. He placed his hand over hers, guiding her movements gently. Y/N felt a strange warmth rush through her as she watched their hands work together.

"Like this," he said, his voice hushed. "You have to be gentle, but firm. Don't be afraid to put a little more pressure. And remember, baking is all about patience."

She nodded, trying to focus on the task at hand, but her heart was doing somersaults.

Throughout the class, you and Joshua bonded over your shared love for baking. As you measured flour and sugar, you found yourselves chatting about your favorite pastries and desserts. You learned that Joshua had a sweet tooth and loved trying new desserts whenever he traveled.

As the class progressed, you couldn't help but admire the way Joshua's face lit up when he talked about his passion for baking. It was clear that he enjoyed every moment in the kitchen, and his enthusiasm was infectious. You soon discovered that the two of you had a lot in common beyond your shared interest in baking.

After the class, you and Joshua decided to grab a coffee together to continue your conversation. Sitting across from him in a cozy cafe, you marveled at how down-to-earth and friendly he was.

"Thanks for being such a great teacher today," you said, sipping your cappuccino.

Joshua chuckled and waved off the compliment. "No problem at all, Y/N. It was a pleasure baking with you. You catch on quickly, by the way."

You grinned, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "I had a fantastic teacher."

Over the weeks, your bond with Joshua deepened as you attended baking class together regularly. You became a formidable team in the kitchen, tackling complicated recipes and experimenting with new flavors. Baking was no longer just a hobby; it had become a shared passion that strengthened your connection.

One sunny afternoon, you and Joshua decided to try your hand at a challenging recipe—a multi-layered cake with intricate decoration. The process was labor-intensive, but you were determined to succeed. You both donned aprons, tied your hair back, and set to work.

As you painstakingly decorated the cake, your hands bumped into each other, causing a smear of frosting. You both burst into laughter, and Joshua wiped some frosting from your cheek with his finger. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sorry about that," he said, a blush coloring his cheeks. You smiled, your heart pounding. "No need to apologize. It's just a little frosting."

The cake turned out beautifully, and you both marveled at your creation. It was a moment of triumph, but more importantly, it was a moment that solidified the connection between you and Joshua.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Joshua decided to sit in a nearby park, enjoying the tranquility of the evening. The warm glow of the streetlights cast a soft aura around you both, and the vibe almost felt magical.

"Y/N," Joshua began, his voice soft and earnest, "I've really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks. You're a wonderful person, and I'm so glad we met."

You couldn't help but feel your heart race at his words. "I feel the same way, Joshua. You're an incredible friend, and I'm grateful for this experience."

Joshua's gaze turned more intense, and he took your hand in his. "Y/N, I hope it's not too forward, but I've been wanting to tell you that I have feelings for you. I can't help it; you've captured my heart." Your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze. "Joshua, I… I have feelings for you too. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I've fallen for you as well."

The moment was filled with sweet serendipity as you and Joshua leaned in, closing the distance between you. The world faded away as your lips met, sealing your newfound love with a tender kiss.

[dailyreverie]

The wedding party

@flufftober - Day 2 Family, Friends, Loved Ones

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem. reader

Word count: 755

CW: Alcohol consumption, everyone is drunk.

Flufftober masterlist

When Steve looked around the room, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He’s drunk enough to laugh even when he didn’t hear the joke since he was too busy looking at the faces of the people that surrounded him, but not so drunk that he'd forget this precious moment when he woke up the next day. He’s sure he’s never been happier, or that he will ever be as much.

The mid-priced champagne that had your usual crew drunk on the floor of your tiny living room matched the shine of the ring he so carefully slid on your finger a week ago; it shined from where your hand rested on his thigh, making his eyes get constantly lost in it. It was the reason everyone was there, telling stories of how Steve had been head over heels for you from day one. He didn’t care, they could laugh all they wanted, he had finally got his girl after all.

Before your modest gathering, there had been an evening of greeting relatives and hugging people both of you hadn’t seen in ages: aunts, uncles and cousins from both your families that you had to invite to the party, after all, Steve's parents had graciously offered their house for the official engagement celebration, for the grand, showy affair. However, both of you had secretly longed for an intimate gathering afterward with the only people in the world you truly wanted to celebrate with.

“It’s obviously Robin who’s gonna be the maid of honor,” Max confirmed to a conversation that Steve had not been paying attention to before, only then catching the way the girl’s words were slurring. “I’m happy to just be invited, honestly.”

“Well, yes, Robin will be my maid of honor, but you’re insane if you think you and El are not gonna be one of my bridesmaids, whether you like it or not young lady.” Your statement made Max’s eyes shine, her tough demeanor crumbling by such a simple act of your pure adoration for her. Robin’s pride didn’t go unnoticed by either Steve or you, as she raised her glass to you and you responded to the gesture with your own.

“Okay but who’s going to be your best man, Harrington?” Dustin interrupts the sweet moment, his tone more urgent than expected.

“You gotta be careful with the Harrington now, she’s gonna be Harrington too now soon.” Steve nudged his shoulder with yours, his future wife, and the sweet words made a high-pitched chorus of “aww” ‘s  from Robin, Max, Will, and El. At the same time, though you noticed the less-than-impressed expressions on the faces of your other guests.

“Cut the crap, Steve.” Lucas chimes in.

“Yeah, who’s it gonna be?” Mike adds. Steve grunts, and you try to reassure him with a squeeze to his leg.

“Do we really have to do this right now? You’re all drunk.” Your fiancée tries to calm them down, but their state only heightened their emotions.

“Yes, we have to do this right now! They already did it!” Dustin speaks again, referring to the bridal party that was so peacefully put together in a matter of seconds. “What’s it gonna take? You want me to fight them?”

Eddie, who was pretty much just happy to be there, opens his eyes in shock and turns to look at him. “I’m not gonna fight anyone for the position, it was already mine.” With a huff Steve covered his face, he really should have seen it coming.

The younger men stood up with wounded expressions, spiraling into a debate filled with accusations of "How dare you?" and "What's wrong with you?". Their bickering mixed with the girlish giggles from you and your future bridesmaids, which made the evening much more amusing.

“What a family we’ve chosen, huh?” You whispered close to his ear, giving a kiss to his cheek right after, Both of you shared a laugh as you watched the spectacle unfold.

“And we’re the only ones to blame” He joked back. You wrapped your arms around his waist, nestling comfortably against him as you found yourself in his warm embrace, taking it all in. As their fight kept going, Steve suddenly realized that they were arguing over who knew him better and who loved him more.

"I wouldn't change it for the world," he admitted.

"Neither would I," you replied, placing another sweet kiss on his cheek. All with the occasional chaos, you treasured this chosen family with every beat of your now-combined hearts.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[flusteredfools]

First off, love ur work & ur au.

The LoZ au was such a good read & I absolutely love the fluff & hurt in Feafull hearts.

Keep it up~

On a different note had artisan y/n ever thought of making candy? I can't help imagining sprite sun getting a sugar high & zooming around.

Aww thank you!! 💕💕 I'm so glad you like them! The LoZ AU I know seems like a weird crossover to some but I'm glad overall people liked it! I'm still looking forward to the drabbles I have planned for them. And I'm already getting sad that Faeful Hearts is starting to get closer to the end; it was originally only meant to be a 10 chapter short story but I've fallen so in love with my own creation that it's now been spread out over 20 chapters and still going... XD As for your question, yes! Artisan Y/N loves to dabble in a bit of everything and anything, and candy making would be right up their alley! From simple candies like milk caramels and chocolate melts to finer skilled ones like sugar sculptures, they'd want to try it all; and much to their Fae partners' delight. Assorted candy trays make great holiday gifts after all. If Sun and Moon had their way though, Artisan Y/N wouldn't be sharing any of their sweet creations with anyone but them; but after letting them sample all the treats one day only to find the myth of a sugar rush for humans is not a myth for their Fae Neighbors, well they had to pay a bit more attention to how much they spoil their loving Fae spouses.

If you'd like, please enjoy this small drabble inspired by your ask that's below the cut!

Sugar Highs & Hayrides - Part One

Faeful Hearts Side Drabble - Artisan Y/N x Fae Sun x Fae Moon (word count: 1353)

CW: kisses and playful Fae, very minor main story spoilers (I think that's it but please let me know if I missed anything)

The Autumn breeze blows chilly air across the wind chimes outside the kitchen window, while you work on the final batch of treats for the Many Hands Shelter’s Halloween party tonight. With no children of your own and your home being too far outside the small town, you wouldn’t be seeing any trick-or-treaters, no littles dressed up in spooky or adorable costumes gracing your doorstep with small riddles or silly jokes. You can’t say it was a holiday you used to look forward to while you were growing up, though the boarding school did host a small dance and banquet, inviting family members to come and join in the festivities and show off what the students have been up to throughout the year; you never really partook in more than just the meal. 

Gregory would invite you to join him and the Glamrocks in a makeshift patrol of trick-or-treating; Gregory visiting houses for candy while the Glamrocks would split up and watch over children and help steer them from trouble. Though occasionally, the Fae would pull small pranks of their own on rowdy teenagers or those up to no good. But you’d politely decline more often than not. No costume to wear door to door and not usually feeling up to the pranks. So instead you’d retire back to your dorm room and keep yourself entertained with self-study, crafting or reading. 

But this year is different, this year you’re back home and have two loving husbands who greatly enjoy the holiday. They’ve told you tales from years in the past, how they’d take the time to relax and celebrate on Hallow’s Eve. Sun would spend time swapping in and out of his Glamours to be around the children, helping lost ones find their parents, picking up abandoned wrapped treats, admiring all the decorations humans would hang and place around their yards; and Moon would delight in startling anyone who crossed his path while he clung to the shadows in his animal Glamour, laughing alongside children and adults as jack-o-lanterns lined the sidewalks with a warm glow before claiming fallen candy as a reward for his tricks. 

You were more than happy to let them have the holiday to spend however they wished, even if it left you at home alone in the small cottage; after all you had no magic that would allow you to join in their pranks or guidance. However, Sun said he had a better idea and pulled out a flier from the Many Hands Shelter advertising a Halloween Party and requesting volunteers and donations and, well, you couldn’t think of a better way to spend the day. 

Moon volunteered to help them decorate the venue they rented and even offered to help make a haunted house attraction, and you had to remind him to make sure he didn’t go overboard, small scares were fine but you didn’t want any children or parents terrified; to which he replied “no promises~” with a sharp smirk. Sun had already been picking out the best pumpkins and squash from his garden to help children carve and paint their own jack-o-lanterns, as well as offer his truck and trailer for a night time hayride. 

In between helping them both with their projects, you decided to do the majority of baking treats for the event. Wanting to make it extra special you decided you’d make candy this year to go along with your cookies, cakes and brownies. You’d done a bit of research, getting everything you’d need to make your own sugar sculptures and chocolates; though most of the work could be done through candy molds. 

You just finished a tray of caramel and candied apples and slices, and were now working on dipping some blueberries and strawberries in colored melted sugar, planning on sculpting the blueberries into small spiders and the strawberries into bats; working the melted sugar similar to how you’d work glass. You wanted small works of art that children and adults could enjoy, posing the spiders on white candy sticks as if they were hanging from a web and the strawberry bats on pretzel sticks as if they were hanging from a branch. Figuring it would be an easier way to eat the treat without anyone getting their fingers too sticky. 

That’s not to say you didn’t have your fair share of mistakes with the candy; a decent size pile of broken sugar shards and chocolate chunks fill a bowl on the counter beside you. Though the bowl of misshapen treats isn’t as full as it once was, Sun keeps sneaking pieces out of it when he thinks you’re not looking when he comes in to help load up your trays of goodies for the party. You’ve let him get away with it a few times now, just so the bowl wouldn’t overflow while you still needed it, but now that you could see the bottom of it again it was time to cut the light Fae off. 

“Sunshine.” You lightly scold once you hear him approaching again as you finish packing up the last of the treats to load. His attention turns to you, hands that were about to reach for the bowl on the counter wrapping around your body instead.

“Yes, my Sweet?” He coos, placing a kiss to your lips before trailing them across your cheek. 

You giggle away from his kisses, “don’t you think you’ve had enough sugar for now?” He gasps and nuzzles his face against your neck, trailing new kisses as one hand draws circles into your hip.

“Never~ There’s no such thing as too much sugar, especially from someone as sweet as you~” he teases between kisses, drawing them back up your neck to your lips. You giggle again, pressing your own kisses back to his lips as you trail your fingers down his shoulder and arm of the hand not on your hip. 

“As kind as it is of you to say that, Sunshine, I would have to disagree.” You continue your path along his arm until you’re able to grip his wrist and remove the candy he was trying to steal literally from behind your back. “And I think a bowl full of sugar when I know you plan on having more at the party tonight is too much.” Sun clicks his tongue in disappointment of getting caught sneaking the candy, having thought he was distracting you well enough. He switches to a pout, trying to use his puppy eyes on you to make you give in like you always have before. You spread your free hand over his face to block it out and you turn your eyes. “No! Don’t even think about giving me the puppy pout. You know how you get when you have too much sweets and you have a group of children looking forward to a hayride tonight.” 

“But Blossom…” Sun whines at you, taking advantage of your hand across his face to place more kisses into and you feel your resolve melting away like the sugar still in the pot with each gentle touch. You let out a long sigh and you can feel the corners of Sun’s lips upturn into his winning grin. 

“You don’t get more now, so wipe that smirk.” You playfully huff at him, “but as long as you don’t get too hyped up on sugar that it will affect your driving, you can finish the bowl before we head over to the venue.” He places a firm kiss on your temple as he pulls away from you to load up the final dessert tray you finished. Sun spins himself and the dessert tray happily as he hums a tune in his victory as he leaves the kitchen. “You’ll still have to cut back on the desserts at the party!” You call after him and while you know he heard you, he didn’t respond. You let out a groan of mild regret as you start cleaning up the remains of your mess; trying not to think of the mess you’ll have on your hands later tonight when Sun doesn’t heed your warnings.

[nixii-sabre]

6 for the oc ask thing

Actually fucking marry me for sending an ask for the oc ask thing but anyways

6. Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

No specification on which OC so like., I guess Ill go through all of them because this is an interesting question

(Big answer under cut)

Rainworld OC's

Endless - Endless will always, ALWAYS take advice from Chime. The only time he didn't was during their argument. He's especially reinforced the idea of listening to Chime now that they're together <3., He also won't take advice from... A lot of people, however probably Belief is the main person he will not take even friendly advice from

Koi - Will always take advice from her ancients. In comparison to her combative and competitive behaviors toward other iterators, she oddly listens to her colony. She's never talked about the matter, but its most likely due to knowing what happened to her brother when *he* didn't pay attention. It's a main reason she worries for him and tries to protect him, even nowadays.

Niche - Niche will always take advice from Cookie. Specifically cookie. She'll rarely every pay attention to her scavengers as she believes they have nothing good to say, but she has a soft spot for cookie- and sometimes she has a point. Also, Niche will never, *NEVER* take advice from iterators or ancients who have been apart of a taboo matter (i.e sliverist group chats/conspiracies, self destruct sequences, breaking the torture method, etc).

Those are all the important RW oc's of mine lmaoo. One Last Chime [OLC] belongs to @chaoticgoober as always.

Downfall

Oh boy. Oh boy. I have.. Wayy too many downfall characters to go over this, so Ill just go over with it for a handful.

Noah - Noah by beloved <3 I love him so much ^^ Anyway. After years of living with them, noah's pretty much learnt to take any and all advice from The Watcher. Considering they're a godlike being. The only type of advice they wont take and instead will *give* Watcher is emotional advice. also I think this was already a given but noah will not take advice from Kevin. not. not that kevin would give any advice.

Sludge - Sludge will take advice from everyone, however he'll always listen to his grandmother <3 He doesn't have a particular someone he won't want advice from (unless you count his father who he wants nothing to do with).

Kevin - Will take advice from Divala, will not take advice from Noah

Aqua - Awa will take advice for ANYTHING from ANYONE. Genuinely. He is extremely tentative and will listen and do whatever you say.

Nightshade - Will take advice from Dayna always. Will not take advice from Cindy. He doesn't care that they're siblings, he does not trust her. she threw a lizard at him

Si`le - Will take advice from Cupid. They're the bestest of friends <3 Will NOT take advice from the other sins. Quite frankly they can go fuck themselves in his opinion.

(Dayna belongs to @littleauralite)

Lethal Company

:3

Harvey - Harvey will forever and always take advice from Baron. He likes his short chubby friend much more than he'd like to admit. He will not take advice from Theo, even if it's advice like 'hey I don't think you should go in there I think I saw a bracken' because he will just blatantly ignore him

Baron - Same thing, will always listen to Harves <3 Won't not listen to advice from anyone he's good with whatever

Elle - You don't listen to anybody, do you?

Theo - Will always, always take advice from Elle. He knows damn well she knows what she's talking about. This is especially useful when *he* doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. N/A on the second part

Cheerio - N/A, I think this is pretty clear

Ye., these characters are from a rp thang I'm doing with @xenomorphicdna , @bongocongocaveman , @leastactivejester (soon), and my friend chickenboi

Ooops., i rambled sowwy

[leontranslationarchives]

Danshi Koukousei, Hajimete no vol. 6 Blog Short Story: Poison Apple

Ilustration and original text here

Main Couple: Rokko Ayahito x Oota Jin (pre-relationship)

Other Character(s): Sugimoto Aru (vol. 4)

Timeline: Before Main Disc

Summary: Amidst his student council work for the cultural festival, Rokko attends his weekly art class with Oota-sensei.

Drive (PDF)

Drive (docx)

tl below the cut:

After summer break, Konomi Academy is buzzing with hype for the cultural festival.

Student Council President Sannou, who has been devoting himself to simplifying council operations so everyone can participate, is paying special attention to the cultural festival. After all, it would be the perfect thing to showcase to his rumored “beautiful college student” lover.

Thanks to that, even an ordinary student council member like me has become somewhat busy. I am in charge of allocating classrooms for use during the cultural festival. Since everyone wants a place with good foot traffic to attract customers, accommodating all the requests is going to be difficult. It’s a pain, but that’s just how it is. Wanting to wrap this up as fast as I could, I’m spending my lunch break going around the whole school.

I don’t even care about the student council in the first place.

Since the student council representative in our class had to go abroad as an exchange student to Konomi Academy’s sister school in America, I ended up taking over her job because nobody else wanted to. Taking up the job with the intent of living up to the image of ‘the Flawless Rokko-kun’, I ended up with the reputation as ‘the most likeable boy in school’.

I’m not sure how that happened, but thanks to that, my school life had become a breeze. I’ve decided that this is an acceptable outcome.

“Oh, Rokko-senpai? Is there something you need?”

In the 2nd grade class I’m visiting, I hear a voice that I recognize as Sugimoto Aru, a kouhai who goes to the same part-time job as me in a cafe.

Perfect timing. I make sure to wave around the paper forms in my hand.

“I brought the cultural festival forms, who am I supposed to pass these to in this class?”

“Oh, that should be Takaki’s job. Wait… doesn’t seem like they’re here. Let me pass it on.”

“Thank you. Please also tell them to bring the completed forms to the student council room.”

“Sure… also, I’m sorry, Senpai.”

“For what?”

“I haven’t been able to take any shifts recently…”

In contrast to his flashy appearance, Aru worries about others a lot. That’s why, when he was cast as the main actor for the film club’s new movie, he became concerned about not being able to take shifts at the cafe. It’s not like he’s not going because he’s slacking off, so I don’t know what he’s even sorry for…

Still, the useful Aru’s arbitrary gratitude is very convenient for me.

I smile more broadly to squeeze out as much gratitude as possible.

“It’s fine, you know. I was planning to take those shifts anyway.”

“But I heard that you’ve taken 5 shifts this week already…”

“No need to force yourself. Thanks for your concern.”

After I say that, Aru’s expression turns apologetic. A nice expression that tugs at your heartstrings. With that face, it’s no wonder that he’s popular with women. As expected of a lead actor.

Unfortunately, it’s something I have no interest in.

Besides, the reason why I got a lot of shifts in the first place isn’t for Aru’s sake. It’s because that person will be coming. The reason I got a part-time job in that cafe to begin with is because it’s close to that person’s house. That was all.

But it’s not like anyone else needs to know about that.

“Well then, thank you for taking care of the documents.”

As the chime for the afternoon classes ring, I turn and head towards the art room. It is the 5th period on a Tuesday.

For the next two hours, it will just be me alone with Oota-sensei.

Konomi Academy is an average co-ed high school you can find anywhere. Inside, there are people who are a little different than average.

The first is the previous student council president.

And the other is Oota-sensei the art teacher.

Bleached hair. Cartilage piercings on his ear. There’s a rumor that the reason why someone so far from the image of a teacher can get a job as one is because of his connections to the chairman. In those rumors, the nature of that “connection” is vague. Anything from relatives, to former student and teacher, to Sensei being his bastard child or his lover.

Nobody knows anything about him, and those are the kinds of rumors surrounding him. Moreover, since he has never confirmed or denied anything, those rumors have taken a life of their own.

Even while knowing all this, he pays none of it any mind. He wanders about the school as he likes, alone as always. His reputation with fellow staff members is incredibly poor, for obvious reasons.

That is the Sensei I like.

Someone very special to me. I love him.

The sound of charcoal moving across the sketchbook fills the quiet of the art room. Enjoying the AC by the sunlit window, Oota-sensei looks about to fall asleep.

“You seem sleepy, Oota-sensei.”

“Yeah… went out drinking with friends last night,” he says as he lets out one big yawn.

The sight of him groaning as he stretches is truly reminiscent of a cat. Those narrow eyes, lithe body, and that carefree attitude too.

“Sex friends usually don’t count as friends, Sensei.”

“What exactly are you trying to say, Rokko-kun? Even I have normal friends too.”

“…That’s surprising.”

“What’s with that obviously feigned look of surprise?”

“Isn’t it cute?”

“Nope. What, did some girl tell you it was? Trying to brag about your popularity?”

Saying that without the slightest hint of annoyance, Sensei lets out yet another big yawn. Then, he leans over the window frame and closes his eyes.

“Please stop pretending to sulk and going to sleep.”

“Wake me when you’re done, I wanna see the drawing.”

“What a good-for-nothing teacher.”

“Not like you care.”

As he closes his eyes with a smile, he hides his face in his hands to avoid the sunlight. It really does look like he’s going to sleep.

Does Sensei even understand how important these conversations are to me?

…maybe he does. Or maybe he’s just this kind of person.

At times like these, I feel very childish. Even when he treats me casually, the gap between us does not close.

“If Sensei sleeps, I’ll just go and skip class.”

“Feel free to do as you like, then,” he mutters sluggishly, and then silence.

Well, that’s fine too. I sigh to myself, then continue working on my sketch.

On top of a piece of cloth was arranged an apple, a lemon, and a flower vase.

While I have absolutely no interest in the arts, this optional art class is one of the very few ways I can maintain regular contact with Sensei. Since most students are enrolling in special classes aimed at college entrance exams, the optional arts courses aren’t very popular. With some planning, I directed other students into the other art courses.

As a result, I managed to secure two hours every week where I can be alone with Sensei.

The sound of charcoal against the paper mixed with Sensei’s soft breathing is very calming to my ears.

His pale hair sways in the slight breeze created by the AC.

I’ve thought about it over and over again, but he really is beautiful. The white, supple stretch of his neck, the thin lips, the shapely nose. It’s as if he was a man-made creation.

I want to thrust my dick between those lips.

I want to see that neat hair messed up because of me.

While desiring as I pleased, I continued moving my charcoal.

At some point, the sketch of the apple had become stained black, as if it was poisonous. Stained black from persistence, just like my desires.

I want to make you eat this apple.

I want to stain you with my poison.

Sensei is still asleep.

I am still working on my sketch.

Inside this quiet art room, our passions continue to ferment.

I only have a little more than six months left at this school.

Will I be able to have you in that time, I wonder?

[bytheangell]

Believe Me

(Read on AO3 written for @malecdiscordserver By The Angel Bingo prompt: Hallucinations)

"You want us to what?" Robert asks, sounding rightfully incredulous.

"I want you to drink this," Valentine repeats simply, as if he thinks it's ridiculous that Robert is confused by the instruction.

"You want to drug us," Robert clarifies.

"Essentially, yes. It's fae, and you'll essentially be under the influence of its magic until it wears off."

"What could there possibly be to gain from that?" Robert asks when Michael remains absolutely silent beside him. Of the two of them Robert was usually the more obedient, the less likely to challenge something that Valentine was requesting of them, but this... no, he has to draw a line somewhere, and this feels like it.

"These are the sorts of things you'll be exposed to from our enemies," Valentine explains, as if it should be obvious. "What better way to prepare ourselves to fight them when we least expect it than to know exactly what we're going up against?"

"I don't know..." Michael finally chimes in, to which Robert nearly deflates with relief. He thought he was the only one of them who didn't agree with this, that he'd be marked as rebellious and disobedient all on his own. It isn't the firmest of disapprovals, but it's better than nothing. It's also reassuring to know that he has Michael, his parabatai, on his side whether he truly believes this is wrong or whether he's simply doing it to support Robert's own hesitations.

"It'll be a fully controlled environment. I'll be here the entire time. Out of sight, so you can experience this and fight through it on your own, but close enough to monitor and step in if necessary."

That's the part that Robert was the most worried about, though he couldn't say it. What might he say, what might he do, under the influence of anything that alters his mind?

He'll just have to be stronger than he's ever been before. This is a test, after all, and he can do whatever he needs to in order to pass it. He has to, because the alternative is unthinkable.

"Fine," Robert finally agrees, mostly because he knows that he's going to be forced into it either way. At least this way he gets to pretend it was his choice rather than following an order he wouldn't be able to disagree with. "As long as Michael is okay with it."

Robert looks over at Michael, not bothering to do anything other than make direct eye contact, reading the quick flashes of emotion he sees there like only he can.

"I trust you," Michael says, but he's looking at Robert as he says it, not Valentine. "Let's do this."

They're in the woods outside of the Academy, far enough away that there shouldn't be anyone around to come across them for some time. The only classes they have are over for the day and no one will question if they skip out on dinner, or bother to check on them at night. They're respectable students from respectable families, and for the most part they're left alone when they go on adventures out for hours between classes. No one questions where they go or what they do. And why would they? Simply boys being boys, out having their fun between all of the work demanded of them.

Robert takes the vial in his hand, Michael takes the other, and they nod to each other before downing the contents.

It's surprisingly pleasant, like a smooth honey mixed with something distinctly floral. Something one wouldn't notice mixed in with a sweet drink.

"Good luck, boys," Valentine says, turning without another word and making his way through the nearby tree line until he's out of sight.

Robert and Michael wait in tense silence, too anxiously awaiting the drug's effects to kick in, too busy paying attention to every slight change in their bodies and thoughts, to even so much as make smalltalk.

It takes nearly half an hour for either of them to feel the effects, and when they do it's like a pleasant haze and nothing like the psychological warfare they were expecting to experience.

"This is... nice," Michael says, finally breaking the silence. His words seem to hang heavy, the sound of his voice almost dripping into the air around them.

"It is," Robert agrees.

And then he sees it. A demon, or at least what he assumes is a demon. It's the shape of something dark and unnatural, something that moves with so much speed its form is more blur than creature.

It's on top of Michael before Robert has a chance to process what's happening, his brain moving too slowly to warn his parabatai.

Michael cries out, a piercing sound that seems to cut through the deepest fog of Robert's mind, because that's Michael. That's his parabatai. That's the man he loves more than anyone else in this world, in pain that cuts through his own body almost instantaneously.

Robert is on him in what he intends to be immediately, but instead ends up being a slow, languid movement. The world moves around him in slow-motion, the colors blurring, the sounds of Michael's cries barely permeating the thick air. He can't shake the strange mixture of feeling so good, as if nothing could possibly be wrong even as he sees it in front of him. Robert gets the feeling that if it was anyone other than Michael he may not have reacted at all.

"I'm here," Robert says, sword brandished and at the ready in front of him, spinning to try and catch sight of the thing that attacked Michael, but it's gone as quickly as it came.

Robert turns to Michael instead, running his hands along Michael's body and pulling up the lose bits of clothes, looking for an injury.

There is none. Which is impossible. He saw it - he felt it…

“You’re okay,” Robert says. “I thought… if something happened to you…”

“You’d be okay without me,” Michael says. The words sound sad, and they pierce Robert worse than any wound.

“You don’t believe that, do you?” Robert demands.

“Of course I do,” Michael says. “It’s true. You never-”

But before Michael can finish that thought Robert closes the space between them, wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist to pull him in close as they kiss. Not as Robert kisses Michael, but as they kiss, because Michael returns the action without hesitation the moment Robert initiates it.

“I would not be fine without you,” Robert says breathlessly once they part. Perhaps later, after the drugs wear off, he’ll regret finally being so brazenly open with his feelings. But for now, this feels good. This feels right. “Do you believe me now?”

“I…” Micheal starts, bringing a disbelieving hand up to brush across his lips. “I believe you.”

“Good,” Robert says. “Never speak like that again, then.”

Robert turns away from Michael to face the woods again, remembering where they are and why they’re here, but can’t help the small, satisfied smile that crosses his face as he does.

[di-daynamic]

@fluffbruary Day 16

“Finally!” Zack called dramatically, collapsing on Ivy, who shook him off with a disgruntled warning not to bother the driver. “That one was hard!”

Carmen spun the box containing the La Peregrina Pearl in her hand. “Mmm, not particularly. For one of the most famous jewels in the world, security was sadly lacking.”

“Only for you, Red,” laughed Player onscreen. “I’d say a hundred guards plus the no-oxygen room, not to mention the thumbprint and iris scanner would be enough for anyone else. Be careful with that,” he added. “It bid for more than 11 million dollars, you know.”

Carmen clicked her tongue. “It’s a good thing Countess Cleo will not be getting her hands on it then.”

“She would certainly love this,” Shadowsan agreed. “We must be careful for a while. The only thing the Countess treasures more than her jewels and clothes is revenge.”

“They’ll never get us, Carm’s too good,” Ivy scoffed. “Bro, if you elbow me one more time, I’m tossing you off this ship.”

“Chill, Ives,” Zack drawled. “Player, any idea what our next mission is?”

Player had his thinking face on, clearly having switched the screen to go through the hard drive. “Honestly, it’s a wait-and-see game at this point. They’ve been trying to switch up their missions and agents recently.”

“Probably because they know boss will come and get them,” Zack said. “And her suuuuper awesome crew. Hi-yah!” He did a terrible imitation of a kung fu chop. “Sensei, when will my training continue?”

“When you’ve displayed any aptitude for the martial arts,” Shadowsan retorted dryly. “In the meantime – or for the rest of your life, seeing as that seems more likely – I would suggest remaining the get-away driver.”

“The get-away sailor this time,” Ivy commented. “And it’s me, and not him! Ha.”

“Want me to make you a little paper captain’s hat sis?” Zack chuckled.

“I’ll smash it over your head, bro.”

“It might be a good thing to have a break between this and the next caper,” Carmen was telling Player as Zack and Ivy continued their argument and Shadowsan continued to bemoan all the life choices that led him to witness it, “We could have some rest. And you could pay attention in school. And do your homework. And go to sleep on time, for once.”

“You sound like my mom,” Player complained, leaning back with his hands behind his head. The tension always in his voice when he guided them on missions – responsible for his team, his family – bled out as he enjoyed a conversation with his best friend. “Besides. I have absolutely no doubt that you’ll find a way to get into trouble even without any capers. I’ll need to stay up late anyway!”

“Don’t sound so happy about that,” Carmen chided. “Seriously, Player, you need to learn to take better care of yourself. Have you eaten today?”

Player waved a plate of noodles and fork mockingly at the camera.

“Something other than that breathtakingly unhealthy stuff?”

“The unhealthy stuff’s what’s tasty, boss,” Zack chimed in. “I don’t get how you don’t like junk food.”

“I grew up on VILE Island,” Carmen replied amusedly. “Not much time for junk there unless it’s valuable or evil.”

“Coach Brunt set a very specific diet for Carmen growing up,” Shadowsan nodded. “I remember Dr. Bellum contributed – most probably why you were allowed any sweets at all.”

“Weird to think of that huge Coach being a mom,” Ivy commented.

“Carm doesn’t need any moms,” Zack snickered. “She’s got Player.”

“Player’s clearly the mom friend,” Carmen agreed.

Player made an outraged noise. “I’m the mom friend? Red, remind me who was just nagging me about bedtime and food like I’m in preschool?”

“Red, did you just get knifed? Where did she get you? Are you sitting down? Did you take the knife out? How much is it bleeding? Do you know how to clean it? You know the rate of people dying of knife wounds in Canada is 0.49 in a hundred thousand people? And you’re like that with someone who’s been trained all her life to deal with things like knife wounds,” Carmen imitated Player’s concerned fussing teasingly.

“You got stabbed!” Player cried indignantly. “That’s different!”

“You’re like that every time someone’s hurt, Player,” Ivy said. “Also, I don’t get how the stats help.”

“Yeah, what’s with that? D’you reckon knowing how many people die of that particular thing will help us recover from it?" Zack asked, puzzled.

Player flushed. Carmen knew perfectly well he ranted without thinking when he panicked, and that solid hard statistics was his favourite thing to recite. “It’s better than your typical habits, Zack,” she saved him from answering.

“Anything’s better than lil’ bro eating his feelings,” Ivy mocked.

“Ow, that hurts, Ives,” Zack said, sniffing exaggeratedly. “More than VILE’s ego after boss kicked their ass for the thousandth time, I’m sure.”

“Nothing could sting more than that,” Shadowsan smirked, for once joining in on the joking.

“Not to mention the rubbing of salt in the wound when we make the return of the goods public and donate the money to charity,” Carmen added lazily, putting her legs up on the couch, keeping an eye on the surroundings. The boat was still rather in the open, and she didn’t need Devineaux and ACME interfering with a successful caper.

“Speaking of which, we need to decide on whom you’re going to be giving the Pearl to, Red,” Player said, stretching his hands forward and typing. “On this one you’ve liberated. . . . Drumroll, please. . .” Zack and Ivy obliged. “Eight-hundred thousand euros from VILE!”

“Woohoo!” Zack and Ivy cheered, and even Shadowsan cracked a smile. Zack began beatboxing, and Ivy began to sing. “The best thief - in the world? Yeah, it’s Carmen Sandiego. Where in the world is – Carmen Sandiego? Where - will she go next – no one ever—”

“So, any ideas?” Player asked over the music and Shadowsan’s annoyed grumblings.

“Jules, obviously, for the Pearl,” Carmen said, leaning closer to the monitor in order to see her friend better. “And just pick a few non-profits from the list, Player. Though preferably an orphanage, for this loot.” Her face darkened and she turned away.

“Hey. Not your fault, Red. You can’t save everyone,” Player consoled gently, referring to the orphan who had gotten killed by VILE simply for being a bystander.

“No, but it would be nice to save someone,” she replied with unusual bitterness.

“You do. You save loads of people,” Player said insistently. “Think of how many people this money will help. Think of how many trees whose oxygen you’ve saved by making sure Tigress won’t be speaking for a week at least!”

That got a smile. “Fair enough.”

Player watched her carefully, even as he quickly arranged for the wire transfers. She seemed okay, but he’d have to keep an eye out. “I’ll book a flight to wherever Juuuules is,” Player extended the name teasingly. “You do realize you’re the only who calls her that?”

“It suits her,” Carmen said nonchalantly. 

“Yeah, and you’ve got a crush,” Player said delightedly. “Black Sheep’s got a crush! Carmen’s got a crush!”

Carmen reached out and tapped the screen, mock threateningly. “Quit it, Player, or I’ll tell Zack all about your antics at the gaming tournament at age eight.”

Player mimed zipping his mouth. “Shut up. Got it.” He couldn’t resist another jab though. “You know you always drop whatever you’re doing to go see her, even on capers?”

“Are we talking about Julia Argent?” Zack said bluntly.

“And Carmen being very obviously smitten with her?” Shadowsan added. Carmen glared at him in betrayal.

“No, we’re discussing how the lot of you are interfering traitors, who are blighting my very good day,” she drawled. Her eyes caught on another boat. “And speaking of blights. . .”

Player caught on, tapping a key, eyes sharpening. “Well that’s a vile blight on the landscape.”

“It is quite a landscape isn’t it?” Shadowsan said, getting up and readying himself. “A perfect spot for taking down more agents.”

“Awesome!” Zack said, tumbling to his feet. “Time for our training to continue, Sensei!”

“Not the time, bro!”

Carmen slipped the Pearl into her pocket, zipping it tightly shut, before taking a flying leap from her boat to the other one, taking two out with a roundhouse kick.

“Grunts!” Ivy called. “Couldn’t send any of the better agents, could you? Haven’t seen the goat for a while.” She blindly swung a club and somehow managed to take one down. “Ha! There’s one!”

Shadowsan efficiently thinned the crowd. “And mine’s six.”

Carmen ducked the blow from the sword, before using a maneuver Coach Brunt had once taught her and managing to knock the owner out with it. “And there’s the last.”

Zack pouted. “I didn’t get a single one.”

“Aw, Zack,” Player said in the intercom. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t either.”

“Hear that, Zack? You’re being compared to a kid sitting a whole continent away.” Ivy laughed under her breath, swinging an arm around her brother’s shoulder as they climbed back on their own boat.

“I believe this calls for a toast.” Shadowsan proclaimed.

“So it does,” Carmen agreed. “Player. ACME?”

“On its way,” he said in satisfaction. “Good day’s work, team.”

“I think this calls for some alcohol,” Ivy said. “Tada! This one’s supposed to be the best around here. Get the glasses, I want to taste it.”

“Cool, sis,” Zack grinned, opening the cupboard to produce the glasses. “Good thing you’re not here Player.”

Player knew he shouldn’t take the bait. He knew.

“Why?” He said anyway.

“’Cause a little guy like you couldn’t drink, and then you’d be all left out!” Zack said melodramatically. “It’d be really sad.”

“Carmen!” Player said in agitation.

Carmen laughed, watching her family bicker.

“Far from VILE Island, is it not?” Shadowsan asked quietly, sipping from his own glass.

“Quite a bit,” she agreed, taking her own glass and holding it in a toast to her best friend who was still angrily ranting at Zack. “And I couldn’t be gladder for it.”

[rightsforharleykeener]

a current wip

this is like,, 1k words into the current one-shot i'm writing. the whole plot is based off a prompt i saw that was like '"pretty boy" (derogatory) to "pretty boy" (affectionate)', so forgive me for making harley rude in this bit!!

if anyone could give it a read that would be great, and criticisms are welcomed!! also pls point out any spelling / grammar mistakes bc god knows i haven't read this over one bit.

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

“Hey, Mr Stark!” Peter called as he walked into the lab. Tony turned around, smiling when he saw Peter.

“Hi Pete, only half an hour later than you said you’d be!” Of course Tony had to comment on the time.

“I see it as an improvement. Technically, I was here fifteen minutes ago.” Peter snarked back, smiling even wider. After getting over his awkward starstruck phase, Peter and Tony got on much better, and the former was no longer afraid to be sarcastic around his mentor.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, this is who I wanted you to meet. This is Harley Keener. Met him during the Mandarin incident in 2013.” The other person in the room (who, admittedly, Peter had not been paying any attention to) turned around and smiled. Oh, it was Locker Boy. Harley, Peter corrected himself. “Harley, this is Peter.”

“Oh, hey, we saw each other earlier.” Harley notes, voicing what Peter was thinking.

“Yeah, I apologise if I sounded like I was accusing you of stealing or something.” Peter rushed out, stating what he had tried to tell Harley earlier - before the latter had walked away.

“Nah, no worries. Wasn’t thinkin’ that of ya anyways. Honestly, I was just a bit embarrassed at being wrong.”

“Harley? Being wrong? Never.” Tony chimed in.

“Shut up, old man.” Harley retorted. If Peter was being honest, it shocked him a bit that Harley was just like that with Tony straight off the bat. Although they’d known each other since 2013, Peter had never seen Harley before. Granted, he’d heard about the story of a boy Tony met once, but he’d never known his name, and Tony certainly hadn’t invited him over before. Or, Harley hadn’t accepted the invitation if Tony had asked him to come over. So Peter was just a little surprised that they were this close, even if it did make a little bit of sense for them to be.

Tony and Harley continued their conversation, so Peter sat down at his desk. Now, Peter had time to think about the previous interaction. Whether that was a good thing or not, he didn’t know. What he did know was that he’d found Harley unfairly attractive. Peter hadn’t had the chance to really look at him during the day - all he’d gathered was that he had blonde hair, and pretty much towered over Peter. Now, Peter knew that Harley had bright blue eyes, and dressed in what the fan fictions would define as a ‘bad boy’ style. Peter must have got a bit lost in his thoughts, because when he looked up, Tony was no longer in the room.

“Where’d Mr Stark go?” Peter turned to Harley, assuming that the other boy would know.

“Wouldn’t ya like to know, pretty boy?” Harley said back. Peter was thrown off a little bit by the other boy’s tone. It was much more malicious than it had been during their other two interactions. Peter decided to brush past it - as well as the name Harley had called him.

“Well, yeah. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Why? Want him to check your work? Make sure you’ve got it right? Wouldn’t want to get somethin’ wrong in front of Mr Stark, would ya?” Peter became more and more taken aback as each word came out of Harley’s mouth.

“What?” Peter was genuinely confused. Was Harley mocking him? And if so, why? What had he done so wrong already?

“You know what, Parker. You’re a suck-up. As far as I’m aware, you’ve known him for three years. You spend so much time with him, and yet you still call him Mr Stark.”

“Yeah, it’s respectful - it’s just what I’ve always called him.”

“You sayin’ I’m not respectful, pretty boy?”

Peter didn’t even answer. 

What gave Harley the right to act like such a dick all of a sudden? Never had a new person irritated Peter so much before. No one had ever criticised him for calling Tony ‘Mr Stark’ - anyone who heard it had thought it was cute. Not that Peter had continued calling Tony that because people found it endearing - as he told Harley, he did it out of respect. And habit, if Peter was being honest. But back to Harley. Peter couldn’t figure it out. He’d been nice to Peter at the locker this morning - so Harley wasn’t just rude to strangers. He’d been decent when Tony introduced the two boys to each other. So what was it? 

Peter decided that Harley was just a dick, and spent the rest of the afternoon mad at the other boy.

[marzmeltdown]

Familiar Taste of Poison - pt.3

⌦ Pairing: Wonwoo x Fem!Reader ⌦ Genre(s): series,, angst,, fluff ⌦ chapter specific genre: fluff,, angst ⌦ Warning(s): !!TW: LIGHT MENTIONS OF Drug Use, Alcohol Abuse, mentions of depression!!, reader kinda uses Wonwoo, a lot of this will be in multiple pov's(I will clarify when it changes pov's), some mention of being sick, swearing, most of this chapter is all Wonwoo's pov, Wonwoo goes on a date with someone else. ⌦ Word count: 3.07k ⌦ Summary: You and Wonwoo have been friends since childhood, though you're both a little estranged from one another, the only contact being when you call Wonwoo for help. ⌦ A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than the last two but a lot happens to push the plot forward. It's really random that I put skz in here but I needed someone who had a sister. Fun fact about me, cause it's brought up in this chapter: I'm allergic to apples. The end of this chapter almost had a bitch crying at 4 am. If there's anything you feel I should improve on in the future, don't hesitate to let me know! You can find progress updates on this story and everything else I write in my pinned post every Wednesday.:) ⌦ I have attached a link to a website with help hotlines around the world, this series has heavy themes of mental health and substance abuse. This link will be added to every chapter. ⌦ International Mental Health hotlines

⌦ Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

⌦ marz’s tag list ⌦ marz’s req form

⌦(Wonwoo's pov) It had been a little while since he had heard from you; granted, you had never gone longer than a month without needing him to clean up your messes. This new-found silence from being your knight in shining armor allowed him to begin streaming again. For awhile, he had stopped because your calls of need would come in at least 4-5 times a week.

To say he missed you would be an understatement; he would lie awake after a long night of streaming, waiting for his phone to ring so he could pick you up. After three weeks of no calls, he began to believe that you had fully forgotten about him, all because of a little spat that he could've handled better. He had plans to express how he felt about you, but the world had different plans that day. Maybe you two just weren't meant to be friends anymore.

Wonwoo had tried to take his mind off things; he would distract himself by playing video games until the sun went down. That night, like every other night, he stayed up to play online with a few friends.

"If I die one more time because you're not paying attention, I'm gonna strangle you," Vernon threatened through Wonwoo's headphones. To be honest, Wonwoo was a little distracted today; he kept glancing down at his phone, hoping for a call, a text, or something.

"Sorry, I've just got a lot on my mind," Wonwoo replied, the sounds of his mouse clicking and keys clacking filling his room and his eyes beginning to grow tired from staring at such a bright screen for an extended period of time.

"Woo, you need to let her go. She's clearly not interested in your friendship and hasn't been for awhile," Minghao said. If Minghao were talking to anyone else, they surely would've been offended, appalled that he could say something so cold so calmly, but Wonwoo appreciated his honesty; he wouldn't want Minghao to be any other way.

"I agree with Hao; you should put yourself out there; stop waiting for someone who isn't hurting without you," Seungcheol chimed in, everyone having paused their game to give Wonwoo some free therapy while they sat in the Fortnite lobby.

"Are you guys suggesting a date?" Wonwoo asked, pushing his glasses up as he put his hands on his face, muffling his question just a bit.

"Well, I wasn't, but I know someone who'd be great for you," Seungcheol said. He could hear the shrug in his voice, playing matchmaker so nonchalantly. "I'll send you her info; she thinks you're cute anyway," he added. Within seconds, his words were emphasized by the sound of Wonwoo getting a text message. He glanced at the notification, half hoping it was from you and half hoping it wasn't.

It wasn't.

Wonwoo opened his phone, seeing that Seungcheol had sent her Instagram profile along with her phone number. He clicked on the link, leaning back in his chair as he scrolled through the professionally taken photos that filled the girl's profile.

"She is really cute," Wonwoo said, clicking on a few photos. There was a familiar face in a few of the photos, though they looked too much alike to be anything more than siblings.

"Seungcheol, is this Chan's sister?" Wonwoo asked, zooming in on one of the photos to get a better look at the girl's alleged brother.

"Bang Chan?" Seungcheol asked.

"Yea, Bang Chan,"

"Yea, why?"

"Just curious," Wonwoo said. He chewed on his bottom lip as he swiped back into his messaging app, looking down at the series of numbers Seungcheol had given him. "You said she thinks I'm cute?"

"Yeah, she talks about you all the time at work," Seungcheol said.

"Well, I'll text her when we get off. Wanna go for one more round?" Wonwoo asked, setting his phone down and getting ready to unpause the game.

"Sounds good," everyone said, continuing with their match.

One game turned into two.

Two games turned into four.

4 turned into 6.

By the time Wonwoo looked at the clock on the PC that displayed his Discord server, he was shocked.

3:26 a.m.

Wonwoo must have really had a lot on his mind; he never stayed up this late, not unless you had needed his help. He yawned, stretching his back when they were back to the games lobby, cracking his neck as it had grown stiff from sitting hunched over a keyboard for so long.

"I think I'm gonna get off guys, I'm getting tired," he said, not waiting for them to object before closing the game and turning his headphones, mic, and pc's off. Wonwoo grabbed his phone as he got up, walking to his closet to grab a pair of night pants and changing into them.

He unlocked his phone, looking at the number again as he began brushing his teeth. After a moment of hesitation, he finally added Hannah's contact information to his phone, messaging her as soon as he finished brushing his teeth.

⌦ Wonwoo: Hey, it's Wonwoo. I know this is super random, but Seungcheol gave me your number, if that's okay.

Wonwoo didn't expect an immediate answer; it was almost 4:00 in the morning. He looked at the unopened message as he left the bathroom, slipping his phone into his pocket and turning off the light. His phone dinged as soon as he walked into his room, and he only opened it once he had lied down in bed.

⌦ 3:55 a.m.

⌦ Hannah: Hey, Wonwoo! It's totally chill; why're you up so late? (Read 3:55 a.m.)

Wonwoo found himself smiling at her message and answering immediately.

⌦Wonwoo: I could ask you the same thing, lol. (Read: 3:57 a.m.)  ⌦Wonwoo: But I was playing Fortnite with Cheol and a few other friends and lost track of time. (Read: 3:57 a.m.)

⌦Hannah: That sounds like a lot of fun. (Read: 4:00a.m.) ⌦Hannah: Why did Cheol give you my number anyway? (read: 4:00 a.m.)

⌦Wonwoo: Uh, he's trying to play matchmaker. (Read: 4:00 a.m.)

⌦Hannah: Right (Read: 4:01 a.m.) ⌦Hannah: Well, what are you doing tomorrow? (Read: 4:01 a.m.)

⌦Wonwoo: Nothing as of right now. (Read: 4:02 a.m.)  ⌦Wonwoo: Why are you trying to ask me out? (Read: 4:02 a.m.)

⌦Hannah: Yea. (Read: 4:02 a.m.)  ⌦Hannah: How's coffee sound tomorrow at noon? (Read: 4:02 a.m.)

⌦Wonwoo: You're straight to the point, aren't you? lol (Read: 4:03 a.m.)  ⌦Wonwoo: But, noon tomorrow sounds great! (Read: 4:03 a.m.)

⌦Hannah: Great, I'll send you the cafe's info tomorrow. I'm about to fall asleep (Read: 4:03 a.m.)

⌦Wonwoo: Awesome, sleep well (Delivered: 4:04 a.m.)

Wonwoo reread the small interaction he had with Bang Chan's sister, smiling softly as he put his phone on the charger. He turned off his light, took his glasses off, and went to bed.

⌦(Wonwoo's POV cont) Wonwoo was thankful for his habitual routine of waking up at 9:00 a.m. every morning, regardless of when he went to bed. He forgot to set an alarm, having fallen asleep as soon as he put his glasses on his nightstand. Waking up this early gave him a few hours to kill before he had to get around, creating a schedule in his head for how long it would take him to eat breakfast, take a shower, shave, get dressed, and drive to the cafe. He planned on being 15 minutes early; he was always early.

Hannah had already sent Wonwoo the address of the cafe; thankfully, it was only a fifteen-minute drive from his apartment complex with traffic. He ate a light breakfast of two pieces of toast and a glass of apple juice; he'd be damned if he were going to willingly drink orange juice. He rarely ate toast, but with few food ingredients in his fridge or cabinet, toast was his only option.

With thirty minutes to spare after getting ready, Wonwoo grabbed his keys, locking his door as he left to go to his car. Hannah was already at the cafe when he got there, sitting in her car as she waited. Wonwoo parked next to her, pulling out his phone to let her know he was there. When she looked up from her phone, he waved at her with a smile, stepping out of her car to greet her on the sidewalk.

"Hey! I'm so glad you could make it," Hannah smiled as she pulled the taller male into a hug. Wonwoo was stunned at first; she surely was a bold woman, which he seemed to like about her.

"Why wouldn't I?" He chuckled, hugging her back for a moment before they pulled away and walked into the cafe.

It was a small cafe owned by a sweet elderly couple from France. The cafe always had French music playing softly through the store speakers; normally, Wonwoo would have found it nice and cozy, but today it felt cheesy. The two sat down after having ordered their drinks, exposing the poor barista to a small argument over who was paying for their drinks. Hannah won.

"So, tell me about yourself." Hannah smiled, taking a sip from her cappuccino before moving it to the side of the table so she could place her elbows on it, letting her chest rest against her forearms.

"There's not much to know," Wonwoo chuckled, swirling his straw around in his Americano and watching the ice move around with it. "But I'm in college for mechanical engineering, I stream on Twitch sometimes, and I'm a big Marvel buff," he said after a moment.

"Mechanical engineering? So you're smart and cute, huh?" Hannah teased, smiling at the redness that grew on Wonwoo's cheeks from her compliment.

"Tell me about yourself," Wonwoo said, directing the conversation back to the original topic.

"Well, I'm in college for fashion design; I also really like Marvel; and I want to get into PC gaming," she said. Wonwoo looked up at her, stunned that Seungcheol had finally set him up with a girl who shared some of his same interests, and he was already friends with her brother.

Wonwoo was pulled out of his thoughts as his phone rang in his pocket. He looked down at his pants and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Your name and contact photo were displayed on his screen; seeing this made his smile drop slightly. He clicked the side button, silencing the call, before looking up at the girl he was on a date with. "Sorry about that; I thought I put my phone on silent," he said as he placed it back into his pocket.

"It's no problem; if it's important, you can step out and answer it; I won't be upset," Hannah said, gesturing to the window that the two were sitting by. Wonwoo shook his head.

"It wasn't, and besides, it'd be rude to answer a call on our first date," he said.

"And you're considerate? Well damn, I might ask you to marry me right here," she laughed. She stood up after a moment, and in that moment, Wonwoo half expected her to get down on one knee and ask her to marry him. Instead, she grabbed her coffee with one hand and his hand with the other, pulling him up from his seat. "Wanna go on a walk?" She asked, swaying their hands back and forth.

"Are you gonna murder me?" Wonwoo asked, grabbing his coffee from the table.

"I might," she winked, sipping her cappuccino once more.

"At least you're honest," Wonwoo chuckled. His phone began to ring again once they left the building. He looked at it and canceled the phone call.

"Wonwoo, if you need to answer that, I don't mind," Hannah reassured as they began walking along the pathway.

"I don't, I promise." He said.

The walk was nice, and Wonwoo and Hannah seemed to be getting along a lot better than he would have ever imagined. It didn't take long for it to start raining. May's weather was never consistent, which seemed to be the only consistent thing in Wonwoo's life. Inconsistency. Wonwoo had given Hannah his sweater as they walked back to their cars; only when Hannah safely got into her car and pulled out of the parking lot did he leave.

He looked at his phone for a moment, seeing that he had five missed calls and ten messages from you, asking for your help. He almost answered the texts, apologizing that he was busy and couldn't get to his phone. Just as he was about to send his text, he sighed, thinking about what his friends had told him only 12 hours ago. Instead of sending the text, he closed his phone and drove home.

⌦(Reader's POV) You groaned angrily when your phone went to voicemail for the second time. Where was he? Why wasn't he answering? Was he still mad? Your head began spinning, even though you couldn't tell if it was because of your impaired state or because Wonwoo was finally giving you a taste of your own medicine. You had ghosted Wonwoo for the better half of your freshman year of college, having found new friends and devoting all of your weekends to partying, so when you finally got ahold of him, he was shocked.

"He works from home; where is he?" You said it angrily, your plethora of messages having been delivered but unread for the better part of two hours. That was what really set you off. He couldn't even give you the respect to apologize.

Against your better judgment, you snatched the keys from your kitchen counter and stumbled out of your apartment, having decided to confront him at his apartment. You've had a few years of practice when it came to driving under the influence, taking back roads, watching the road extra carefully, and driving cautiously, it was easy. Parking your car, you stormed up to his apartment, noting that his car wasn't in the parking lot when you had gotten there.

You called him again.

and again.

and again.

Until finally, you gave up on calling him and decided to send him a hundred more text messages.

⌦You: Wonwoo, I need your help... (Delivered: 11:00 a.m.)

⌦12:45 p.m.

⌦You: Wonwoo, why aren't you answering me??? (Delivered: 12:46 p.m.)

⌦12:57 p.m.

⌦You: Hello? Where are you??? (Delivered: 12:58 p.m.)

⌦1:05 p.m.

⌦You: I'm at your place (Delivered: 1:05 p.m.) ⌦You: Hello!!!!! (Delivered: 1:05 p.m.)

Just as you were about to call him again, you saw that all of your delivered messages had been read. You watched as the three dots by Wonwoo's name appeared.

Then disappeared.

Appeared again.

Until they disappeared for a final time.

Your texts to Wonwoo began to be sent one right after the other, sitting with your back against his front door as you drunkenly blew up his phone. Fifteen minutes had passed before you saw a pair of feet standing in front of you. You looked up and saw the man in question.

Angrily, you stood up shoving your phone in his face as you began to speak.

"I've been trying to get ahold of you for two hours now! Where were you?!" You yelled, and Wonwoo gently pushed your phone out of his face. He looked down, unlocking his front door before opening it to let you in. He waited for you to walk inside, quietly apologizing to his elderly neighbor before stepping inside himself.

"I got coffee," he said, setting his keys on the table by his front door and taking his shoes off.

"It took you two hours to get coffee." You asked in disbelief, crossing your arms as your blurred vision did its best to lock onto him.

"You didn't let me finish," he continued. He sat the now-empty to-go cup on his kitchen counter. "I was on a date."

Your heart dropped, and you weren't sure why either. He was only your friend, your shoulder to cry on, and your emergency contact because you knew he would bend over backwards for you.

"Oh," you said.

"Yea."

"You still could have answered after she left," you said. Your anger had softened just a little bit.

"Why? So I can pick your drunk ass up from some stranger's front lawn? It's 2:30, and you're already fucked up." He said, "Your jaw dropped. What was his deal? Why was he being like this?

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you being such a dick all of a sudden?" You asked.

"Because I'm tired of only seeing my best friend when she needs me to be her chauffeur because her other friends left her strung out on God knows what in some stranger's bathroom because she's too drunk to get home." He said. You could see that his words were hurting him just as much as they were hurting you; he wasn't making eye contact with you either. "I can't drop everything to come save you every time you need me; I have a life too," he said. This time his words were soft, almost upset that he'd finally told you how he really felt.

"Fine. I'll leave then." You said this, stepping toward the door only to have the pathway blocked off. "Wonwoo, get out of my way."

"No, I can't let you drive home like this," he said.

"Wonwoo. Get out of my way." You repeated. He didn't move.

"No," He said.

"Now you care about my safety?"

"I've always cared about your safety!"

"Evidently not; evidently it was a burden to you!"

"Do you know why I always dropped everything to come get you?" He snapped.

"To feel better about yourself?" You asked, your words laced with anger. Your eyes began brimming with tears, and your body began to shake. You need to get out of here as soon as possible.

"Because I love you, y/n!" Wonwoo snapped back. He stopped for a second, realizing what he had just said.

"What?" You asked, finally looking up at him.

"I love you.. and it kills me that you're killing yourself like this, but I can't be around you anymore if you're going to continue to hurt yourself. I will always love you, y/n; I hope you know that." He said this, grabbing his keys off the table once more. "Let's go; I'll take you home." You were sure this would be the last time you'd ever hear from him again.

[op-sys-chaos]

Damian did not pay attention for the entire meeting. He was too busy staring at his sister. She’d looked at him, done a double take, then pinched herself to refocus. As an ambassador, she had an important job to do, whereas Damian was only here to observe.

The moment the formalities were over with, the group of ambassadors turned to leave, but his sister - could it truly be her? - placed a hand in the leader’s arm and spoke softly. “Wait. I need to speak to someone here still. It’s personal. Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Not at all, as long as it’s okay with our hosts.”

“It is,” Damian said before anyone could stop him.

“I agree,” Wonder Woman chimed in. “It is perfectly acceptable. Follow me, I will bring you to the main lounge. Who do you need to speak to?”

“Me,” Damian said.

“Very well, Robin, you may follow me as well.”

“We’ll be back in an hour, Sam, but use your panic button if you need out sooner,” the leader said.

“Got it.“

The two silently walked side by side. Even after all these years, their footsteps still matched. Wonder Woman left them there, and the second the door was closed, Sam held her hands up in surrender. “I can explain.”

“Please do,” Damian nearly growled.

“Grandfather tried to have me killed. Mother let him look like he succeeded, and got me out. She left me with a rich family she knew would give me a comfortable life, then she told me to never speak to you again or I’d likely be murdered for real this time. It killed me to never be able to contact you. But now, I have diplomatic immunity. Grandfather can’t touch me. I planned to come find you after this meeting. I was not expecting to see you there.”

“Father is Batman.”

“Hence you wearing the Robin uniform.”

“Precisely.”

“I missed you,” Sam whispered after a moment of silence.

“I insisted on tagging along today to get a message to you. I knew you were stubborn enough to become a ghost. I wished to express that I missed you, that I mourned you, that I was no longer with the league. I knew you’d be proud of me for getting out.”

“I am.”

Damian smiled softly. It was a smile he only showed around his family; a smile she’d taught him, since it came more naturally to her than him. “I wanted to ask the delegates here today to pass along the message to your spirit. I’m glad I don’t have to.”

“I’m sorry that you thought I was gone for all these years. That must have been hard.”

“It was.”

“Here.” Sam pulled out her phone. “Put in your contact. I’ll call you and we can properly meet up. Maybe I can finally meet Father.”

“You don’t have to wait. I’m sure Kal-El is eavesdropping for security purposes and would be more than happy to send Father in now,” he said as he put his number in.

Looking slightly embarrassed to be called out, Superman opened the door moments later, ushering Batman inside.

“Father. I never informed you of the existence of the twin I believed dead, but it is long past time I introduce you. Meet Samantha.”

“Sam.”

“Hello,” Father said, using his Bruce voice instead of his Batman one. If Sam was not already his child, Damian’s siblings would’ve begun teasing the man for his adoption tendencies upon hearing that. “I’m Bruce Wayne. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

The Anti-Ecto Acts have been repealed.

War with an infinite army of the dead and concepts of existence has been avoided.

Damian was glad. On opposite sides of the battlefield is not where he would have wished to reunite with his twin.

She was stubborn enough to become a ghost.

To have to face her, still so small, because she never had the chance to grow would have wrecked him. To have to explain to the family why he hesitated with that once ghost would have wrecked the rest of them too.

Damian was glad the war was averted. Maybe he could ask the ambassadors for the Infinite Realms to pass along a message to his sister’s spirit? Maybe he could help her find peace?

The five ambassadors were coming to the Watch Tower today, and Damian had convinced his father to let him come. He had agreed mostly because the five appeared to be around Damian’s age. This admittance had made Bruce’s mouth form a thin line of displeasure at the thought of young adults being the party chosen to speak on behalf of an entire dimension. Damian knew the displeasure is at the thought of the responsibility thrust upon the shoulders of ones so young, not at having to face younger people on even footing.

They had zeta’d in earlier that day and Robin was making use of one of the training rooms when Batman came to get him for the meeting. He will admit to himself that he was nervous about this meeting. He wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate to ask to send a message to his sister, but he did want to at least try.

The door to the larger meeting room swished open in front of him and he took a seat to Batman’s right. He sat there trying to collect his thoughts when he felt his hair stand on end more than usual. The temperature dropped and a bright green tear in reality formed at the other end of the room.

White fingered gloves appeared at the center of the tear and seemed to pull it wider, large enough for them to fit through with their armor. They floated about two feet off the ground and stood seven feet higher than that. They cast an eerie white glow and their eyes glowed the same bright green as the edges of the tear. Another being floated from the tear, this one just as tall with bright yellow eyes and a teal glow. Another wore a helmet to prevent anyone from seeing their eyes, but they had a red glow to them as they glided in on a hoverboard, they were still nearly six foot tall. The next was shorter, with a pair of goggles that glowed an unnatural blue and had glowing circuitry with hieroglyphics running along that arms. The last entity stepped out.

Damian knew that face. He had mourned it the last ten years.

Purple eyes, a genetic anomaly, but ones he would never forget. The same dark hair as him, thoughts flowed more like Mother’s. She had gained Father’s complexion, always fit to burn if out for too long.

There was just one thing. That face never reached that age. That face never grew to be a teenager, yet alone an adult. Why was this specter wearing his sister’s face?

[duskwightdancer]

FFXIVWrite 2023 Prompt 6: Ring

This one is about my WoL's daughter, Gwen, and my friend's WoL's son, Farim!

Some context: Gwen's story is that there was some magical nonsense that happened that made her get stuck in her father's past and so she was forced to relive the life of the Warrior of Light and complete all of ARR-Endwalker before she got back to her properly time. Farim, her best friend, made a pact with the pixies to be able to come with her. She's a pirate now and Farim comes along for the adventures sometimes.

Rating: T. No cws. No spoilers.

The ship was quiet for once as they sailed back towards Limsa, a successful venture by all accounts. The waters were calm, the skies were clear, and there wasn’t another ship in sight, so the crew finally felt like they could properly relax. 

Tankards of ale were passed out to everyone who wanted them and conversation was flowing, Gwen cackling along at old sailing stories as she drank and leaned against Farim’s shoulder while he buried his nose in one of the books they’d picked up off the ghost ship. She felt completely at ease, not a care in the world for the first time in… forever. 

“Yer turn t’share, Gwennie,” Ninita called, making her roll her eyes and take a big sip from her drink.

“Don’t really have many tales to tell.” The lie slipped easily from her lips, one hand waving off the boos that followed from the crew while elbowing Farim in the process when he gave a snort. “And before anyone asks, neither of us are telling tales about our fathers and all their great Warrior of Light deeds, they talk about that a whole lot less than any of you seem to think,” she added, which was met with another set of boos. 

“There’s gotta be somethin’ that ya could tell us ‘bout. Ya became part o’ this crew by tellin’ us ya were an adventurer, where’s all th’ stories from then, huh?” Ninita prodded and most of the crew chimed in in agreement.

But Gwen could just feel the alcohol start to churn uncomfortably in her stomach. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them because she did, at least to tell them vaguely about the last few years of her life. The specifics of where she’d been might’ve been a bit difficult to explain, but the adventures she had could be generalized enough to not be too recognizable as events from history. But she couldn’t talk about it all. Not yet. Not with them, at least. Even the good parts felt too personal to really share over tankards of ale like this.

“Our adventures weren’t all that exciting, honestly. More of the run of the mill saving people, hunting things sort of deal,” Farim spoke up, surprising Gwen when he grabbed her hand and gave it a light squeeze. He’d been paying closer attention to the conversation than she’d realized. “Also she’s right about our fathers, they’re really just embarrassing, normal dads who make truly awful puns more times than not,” he said and she huffed a laugh.

“Dreadful puns,” she agreed, setting her tankard down and scooching on the bench until she could rest her head on Farim’s shoulder – something that was easier when she was a couple ilms shorter, but she still made it work. 

“Fine, no stories from ya,” Blanwyda said loudly, and Gwen could see the look in her eye. This was the same woman that had stayed up with her that first night on the ship, she knew that this was another of those things that Gwen would be keeping close to her chest. “But," she continued, "don’t mean you can’t talk ‘bout somethin’ else,” she continued, her lips teasing into a smirk. “How ‘bout ya tell us all how long the two of ya have been together?” 

Gwen opened her mouth to say something but her mind drew blank. How did she even answer that question? She had to say something, but-

“Together? Good question. Bonded by fae magic, in life and death? A few years, I think. Don’t ask me exactly, I couldn’t tell you,” Farim said simply, picking up Gwen’s drink and taking a sip of it. 

The crew went silent, like they were digesting what he just said, before someone finally spoke up and thought what they were all probably thinking. “What the hells does that mean? Some weird marriage vows?” Arild asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. 

Gwen just snorted and was quicker to answer this one. “We’re not married,” she said before Farim could open his mouth. “My dads would cry if they missed my wedding. It’s just… fae magic.” 

“I mean, but it’s close to being married,” Farim countered, and Gwen narrowed her eyes and lifted up her head to look at him. 

“Close, but also not. I don’t see a ring on this finger,” she said, holding up her left hand and wiggling the fingers. 

The crew was snickering again, but Gwen had turned them out somewhat. Farim just rolled his eyes at her and sighed. “You barely even wear rings and we both know if I gave you one that you’d laugh me off the ship,” he pointed out, but Gwen just waved him off. 

“Not the point,” she said, and the crew was practically howling laughing now that she couldn’t stop her smile from growing. 

“Ya certainly act like a married couple,” Blanwyda said above the noise, and Gwen could feel the tips of her ears burn a little as she blushed. She wasn’t wrong. 

“Would it have to be a ring? I mean, Gwen got me that incredible book? That’s sort of a ring equivalent, right?” Farim asked, but was met immediately by a chorus of “no” from the crew and Gwen. 

“Well, if you don’t know when you started… whatever it is that you two are, when did you two meet?” Arild asked, clearly trying to get them to continue bickering. 

Farim grinned widely, his eyes flashing mischievously and Gwen didn’t even need him to open his mouth before she groaned. 

“I was one of the first people to know that Gwen’s fathers adopted her. I’ve known her since before she even grew into her big gobbie ears,” he laughed, continuing even when Gwen pushed him off the bench and onto the deck of the ship – the tankard of ale sloshing everywhere. 

The whole crew was laughing and, even though she was glaring daggers at him and her ears were burning even hotter, Gwen couldn’t stop herself from laughing along with them.