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apotelesmaa · 4 months

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HELLO .WAIT. do you have more thoughts on wxs soul eater au i never considered combining the two even thiugh i am off the walls crazy about the,m

Oh I have. So many thoughts. You asking abt it even made me get up off my ass and draw again. Putting everything under the cut to avoid having a mile long post.

When I first had the idea I really struggled on who was a weapon/meister but after deciding on wanting to pair ruikasa/emunene up I was like tsukasa and emu need to be the meisters bc 1) it fits with them being the founding duo of wxs 2) I really wanted nene to be a gun 3) fitting tsukasa’s goals into the SE universe worked better if he was a meister. I elected to make rui a whip first and then I realized I could fit a bloodborne reference in there and reference becoming potatoes with the cane. I’m not entirely satisfied w the first pass at designs for the universe (not super close to the SE aesthetic, I cannot draw guns, I’m not very good at character design, etc) but i kind of tried to pull inspiration from:

- tsukasa and emu’s happy Phoenix costumes (split colors on tsukasa’s coat, tsukasa’s boots, the corset/bell sleeves/little cape thingie for emu)

- for tsukasa specifically: piano (b&w colors and stupid long coat tails), his second wxs costume

- emu: bc I drew her last and it was getting late I did less searching and more winging it but I did try to combine the style of her wxs costumes (shoes, dress, striped socks) & general darker Lolita (for lack of a better word) fashion.

- nene: her gaming event card (weird energy ball device thing? Which I would imagine functions similar to dtk’s shooting soul wave lengths thru the thompsons)

- rui: his ugly ass coat (fond) he wears as his first wxs costume. Also becoming potatoes cane handle thing. Him being a trick weapon (bloodborne term, essentially a weapon that can switch between two forms) also kind of lines up w him being a tech genius.

Ok done talking abt the designs onto the in universe stuff

- not basing any au story off the soul eater plot bc it didn’t work out very well (too many pjsk characters) (going with the main story wxs plot w a soul eater spin. Kinda. Gonna have to think abt that a bit.) but if I did mafuyu > crona, miku & the kagamines > dtk and the thompsons. Would that make cfm lord death. Emu would fill a similar role to maka with mafuyu in that situation but in general (besides the surface level similarities btwn tsukasa and black star) nene is too different from soul, emu is way too different from maka, and rui is literally NOTHING like tsubaki so I can’t justify just swapping out emunene/tsukasa with soul&maka/black star&tsubaki. No equivalent to that fucking cat in this universe. & the pjsk characters get to wear clothes when they’re in the weird place weapons’s bodies go when they’re transformed.

- idk maybe the regular soul eater plot is happening/will happen/has happened but this is the Japan branch (oceania branch in canon?).

- vocaloids are professors (not the kagamines. Forever babies.) but if there needs to be a lord death equivalent making that miku would be so funny. Also the normal vocaloid personalities and not the WXS ones for conveniences sake. Uhhh first thoughts for M/W would be meister miku, weapon meiko, meister kaito, luka can go either way tbh, kagamines are both weapons but are each other’s meister.

- similar to how rui did shows on his own for a really long time I think he was his own meister for a while (like Justin Law was). He doesn’t have many souls bc dwma in this universe at least pretends to give a fuck abt student safety so they don’t want to send him out alone on anything dangerous (despite his talent) and he can’t resonate soul wave lengths with most ppl bc they don’t get him. He ended up giving up on finding a meister when he was younger bc of this & just worked really hard on his own. He experiences a similar isolation from his peers that dtk did (ppl find him intimidating/envy at his skill/etc).

- equivalent of him transferring in to kamikou (? Spelling) second year is the kamishiros spending ~10 years in America. He’s still childhood friends w nene he just moved away after they drifted apart and then came back. Mizuki probably did something similar just 2 keep the mizuki & rui connection still there.

- tsukasa’s SE universe goal is to be the best meister - he wants to protect & help people (inspired by saki. I’ll get to that) but the equivalent of tsukasa forgetting he wanted to make ppl smile & believing he just wanted fame would be tsukasa believing he wants to be the best meister for fame/power.

- saki’s chronic illness is a result of black blood due to an incident w a kishin egg monster when she was younger. I think she would be a weapon but along with the canon typical chronic illness symptoms (not erasing those) she struggles for a long time w controlling her ability to change in and out of weapon form. Tsukasa & her *could* have been a m/w pair & have compatible soul wave lengths but 1) he’s overprotective and I think he realized he would not be able to fight without being too scared of getting her hurt 2) saki’s illness means she can’t really enroll in the dwma (yet. She gets there eventually.)

- nene was in the not classes before the plot picks up bc she didn’t think she had what it took to be a weapon. In universe equivalent to her forgetting her lines would maybe be freezing when she was supposed to transform during an important test when she was younger? Not baby age like in canon (bc I know the DWMA likes child soldiers but 7ish is a bit much even for them) but old enough to be taking classes & old enough to be put into not classes as a result. Im not reading SE NOT! to understand how those classes work though so thank god she gets out of those classes

- nene *is* a really powerful weapon she just lacks the confidence and struggles to resonate with people (& unlike rui she can’t wield herself)

- on that note emu can resonate with just about anyone but she hasn’t found anyone that felt right yet, and Tsukasa needs someone who can keep up w the intensity of his soul wave length and hasn’t found anyone who can do that yet.

- ^ similar to tsukasa being a piano prodigy or whatever in canon tsukasa *is* a really good meister, he just needs a really good weapon. Bc his peers would need more training to get to that level

- I toyed with making emu dtk adjacent (daughter of death) (bc PXL -> DWMA) but that would be too complicated with her brothers/dad/grandpa so I disregarded it. Maybe I’ll come back to it. I think it would make more sense for emu to come from a long line of really talented meisters so she grew up training for the job and running around the dwma.

- emu approaches tsukasa and is like we should work together!!! We’ll do better on missions and be able to take down harder kishin & maybe witches!! & he’s like sure why not every star needs a sidekick (obnoxious laugh) even though emu could kick his ass without breaking a sweat (in line with canon). & like the angel she is emu is like (ignores his pre main story dickheadedness) wonderhoy!! (Deathhoy?) okie dokie we need to find weapon partners then!! (bodily drags him to class)

- tsukasa sees rui training on his own and is like wow he’s really talented! Fitting for a future star like me! & approaches him to ask if they can pair up. Rui is like on the condition that you can find my friend a partner in your class (wants nene out of the not classes bc he thinks she’s far beyond that skill level). Emu jumps on the idea and is introduced to nene who is placed in the higher level courses to accommodate this partnership. Idc if that can’t happen in SE canon I think the Otoris have a lot of sway and any potential issues w nene being less powerful (not the case but it’s the assumption made abt not students) can be made up by emu’s skill.

- emu is instantly very taken with nene and they resonate well. I know what u are dot jpg. Rui & tsukasa can resonate but struggle to unlock their full potential (similar to soul and maka struggling with using the witch hunter form) bc tsukasa needs to realize what his real motivations are.

- tsukasa assumes nene has a low skill level at first (similar to his issues w nenerobo. God I wish I could think of a way to fit nenerobo in this au. sorry nenerobo) but is proven wrong when emu wields her.

- equivalent to the climax of the wxs main story in this is nene freezing again during an important mission and the group losing an important target -> tsukasa gets mad and yells at her -> rui fights w tsukasa over this and tells him that he’ll never be a good meister if he cares more about fame and power than people.

- tsukasa chats w the death scythe kaito & realizes the Error Of His Ways -> emu is considering dropping out bc she feels that she fucked up all of their futures as weapons/meisters by putting this into motion but tsukasa has the heart to heart with emu and they agree to continue being a team -> emu and nene partner back up -> they approach rui who has gone back to working solo and he refuses to partner back up w tsukasa

- idk what a good equivalent to the lonely alchemist show would be. Tsukasa and rui need to resonate & work together to help emunene because they’re in peril or something? & rui through the resonance realizes that tsukasa is genuine? Some sort of hand wavey plot device is used to resolve everything.

- I think that emu & rui and nene & tsukasa are also able to resonate and they do occasionally switch it up just for funsies. Emu and rui bc they just get along very well and nene & tsukasa argue with each other but can still function as a team.

- I don’t think that rui & nene can resonate because. Put down the pitchforks please. *Because* similar to their dynamic in pjsk despite their bond and their care for each other there’s a lot of baggage that needs to be worked through. Too many things left unsaid. Etc. they could probably achieve resonance later on but there’s not really a need to given that they’re both weapons and both have meisters.

- Rui thinks it’s a great training exercise to fight tsukasa “how do you expect to get better if you don’t try fighting against a weapon without a weapon… I’m just trying to help you… (fake crying)” “I’m already good at fighting without a weapon!! This is never going to be relevant knowledge anyways!!! You just want to fight me because you think it’s fun!!!!!!” “(switching manipulation tactics) Someone who wants to be a star would want to be prepared for any situation no matter how small the chance is of it happening” “hm…that’s true… ok let’s do it!!”

- cut to them in the nurses office. This is a weekly occurrence.

- emu also thinks it’s good practice to use tsukasa as moving target practice but this is less dangerous and more just continuing tsukasa’s never ending torment (he is a willing participant in said torment mind you)

- like in canon emu pulls nene out of her shell and hypes her up constantly which is huge in getting nene to have more confidence in herself and her abilities. It’s also incredibly helpful to have a meister who will never judge her for freezing and will always meet her halfway.

- also like in canon nene is very helpful with reeling emu in. She’s a very helpful voice of reason/impulse control but one that understands that even if emu’s ideas are unconventional they still have merit (even if they need to be refined a little)

- similar to the soul eater main cast having the self preservation skills of very small stupid suicidal animals hell bent on getting themselves injured or killed (Liz excluded), emu and Tsukasa are very prone to charging in to a situation w/out thinking. Tsukasa is more reasonable but unfortunately his weapon parter is not and rui usually cajoles tsukasa into doing stupid shit. Nene is suffering.

- maybe someday I’ll design rui & nene if I ever go back and refine these designs but I’m really lazy.

- not really sure how I would go around incorporating the wxs arcs into the soul eater universe with regards to PXL selling out and stuff. Making peace with the witches maybe? Something will probably come to me eventually.

- unlike atsushi ohkubo I’m not a terminally horny freak so there’s zero weird shit in this au.

- initial thoughts on the other units: minori(w)/haruka(weapon that chooses to be a meister) + airi(m)/shizuku(w), kohane(m)/an(w) + toya(weapon who was trained as a meister before deciding to be a weapon)/akito(m), mafuyu(m)/kanade(weapon… don’t make her exercise) + mizuki(w)/ena(m), leoneed swaps pairs frequently but shiho & izuka are meisters + saki and honami are weapons. Open to debate for most of these I haven’t given them much thought.

#asks #soul eater #project sekai #queueing this to not post at 4 am.#I’ll post the pics on their own on the art blog eventually. probably.

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asfearlessasamango · 4 months

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here i ammmmm i hope this isnt the longest ask ever lol but i cannot overstate how GORGEOUS i find your prose. the phrase “tiredness curls up in each joint like old cats in old corners” is so absolutely evocative and paints such a melancholic, beautiful, rich picture in my mind every time i remember it. i could actually get it tattooed thats how seriously beautiful i find it. most of all i loooooooove the amount of social norms, architectural details, cultural differences etc etc you infused in the story to fill in the gaps of the canon universe. the choice of using of rice paper vs. glass and all the reasoning behind it is the example that comes to mind, but im sure that if i knew more about east asian cultures, i could identify more and more details you scattered throughout the plot to turn this make believe world into a truthful parallel of the real one we have. i can only say bravo. and if you have any recommended reading for homework, i’d love to know more about these references! now back to your writing! one of thee strongest points of the story, for me, is how believable these characters are as people. they feel so fully fleshed out that sometimes it was like intruding on someone’s most private thoughts - even a little painful to keep going, and i mean that in the best way possible! i especially loved the subtle addition of zuko’s ingrained sexism and prejudice against other nations, things that ofc he’s never had reason to unlearn in this universe. he is compassionate, but can be very unkind - seems like a delicate balance, but in your story, it just flows naturally. you inhabit their heads, strengths, flaws and life experiences so well, like sokka’s blind defensiveness when he thinks of himself as helpless, his brashness and ingenuity when he sees zuko more as a puzzle to solve than a person. that goes even people who haven't gotten that much plot attention yet - like azula wearing blue lipstick (!!!!) foaming at the mouth from the thought. OFC she would!!! shes bold, shes confident and shes here to shine + now she allows herself to have fun! do “ugly” and “imperfect” things for fun! and all the parallels between this redeemed azula and the canon zuko we know. your oc who is zuko's guardian, who he calls grandma, hasn't even shown up yet and i already love and miss her. uncle iroh!!!! zuko assuming malice from uncle iroh who only wants the best for him - but ofc he doesnt know that! but we do, and it hurtssss katara and aang!!! the bath scene with aang, zuko’s forced vulnerability, their honesty, aang’s absolute grace towards zuko. suki and the kyoshi warriors! i trust they will get their turn to kick some ignorant prince ass. and the thing that draws me the most to this genre: the exploration of trauma in its aftermath. your storytelling is wonderfully brutal here. like… you draw a white picture by filling in all its shadowy contours…. if that makes sense. all the ways zuko’s life was affected by his father add up to the shape of his hurt. him not eating fatty foods to stay fit and "bend better". recognizing azula in his own reflection instead of himself. wearing his mom’s night clothes. im going feral feral feral whew! in my heart all this would’ve been a very pretty glittery letter sent to your author p.o. box. i love your story and it lives constantly in my imagination - thank you so much for sharing it with the world!!!

ohhhmg.... thank you for this!! i sat on it for a whole minute to respond right! i'm so glad you like it!! i love that you love all these characters' new lives <3 <3

there are so many Very Careful Lines to Walk in doing an ATLA au bc the original characters and cultural stories are really so complex. and i am FAR from an expert on east asian history / cultures but here are a few sources that I found helpful / interesting:

jinian qian's writing for The Millions, especially the articles "The Moon Is Beautiful Tonight: On East Asian Narratives" and "Light in the West and Shadows in the East"

chaoyang trap, which is not at all about ancient china but about very modern chinese cultural existence, especially on the Internet / social media / fandom. I can't say this has directly provided me with a lot of relevant info but it does help me figure out attitude / approaches / how things "translate" into western contexts

and of course there are so many A:TLA blogs that really keep the analytical conversations going and make ao3 as vibrant as it is-- @atlaculture, @boybff, @volkswagonblues, @azularedemptionarcwhen, @chitsangenthusiast, @azulasnailtech, @visit-ba-sing-se, @marriedzukka, @bleekay, @ash-and-starlight, @sokkagatekeeper, @azulapropaganda, @zukkababey, @comradekatara, @ofherlionheart, @chaoticsandstorm

okay i will stop blasting this post into all of atla tumblr's notifs but the above blogs are total Gs, 10/10, would not be as deep into my MFA in a:tla without these trailblazing scholars who went before me

have a lovely vintage kermit meme, mwah

#thank you!!#asks #atla

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gravitycoil · 1 year

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DO U HAVE anymore hcs for bill .. or ellis or any other survivor u feel like talking about tbh i enjoy hearing yer l4d thoughts :D

(This is my second time rewriting this because when I went to post it, it CRASHED FOR SOME REASON AND I LITERALLY SCREAMED)

I do have many... many thoughts about everyone.

In my mind Bill does not wear that ugly ass boot outfit after realizing the military and government screwed them over. He loves the group like a family and doesn't hate anyone even if he seems mean and sour towards Francis although he does think he is a giant dumbass but loves him nonetheless. Francis' dumbassery kind of gives Bill humanity because he can't believe someone like Francis has made it this far yet he's glad he has and he can smile about that. His dynamic with Zoey is hardcore Father-Daughter/Grandpa-Granddaughter and he loves her so much despite none of them really revealing how much they mean to one another and Zoey especially curses herself because she never got to tell him how much he meant to her when he died. When he did die, I like to think he turned maybe an hour later after the whole generator shit he didn't turn into an SI but if he did I feel like he would turn into a smoker or tank which, I think tank fits more and is more fuck you to his character cause it's all like. Die to 3 tanks, become one in the process which I should mention that I think yes you can be immune but once you die and your immune system and shit are dead you can still turn. When the group sees that he turned and has to shoot him themselves Zoey has to step away cause she can't bare to look at him like that and physically cannot pull that trigger. I like to think when Bill was alive he taught Zoey like literally everything he knows to her. Every little survivalist thing he knows was passed onto her like making animal traps, reading animal tracks, fishing, how to properly fire and hold different guns, aim training and all everything else. He loves Zoey so much as if she was his own Daughter/Granddaughter. He believes Louis is the only other like-minded one in the group his positive attitude and hopefulness is enough to make Zoey happy which in return makes him happy. I do think Bill is very sensitive/emotional yet bottles every emotion he can but I feel like he has many restless nights thinking about if the group were ever to get hurt or even so much as if they died and these scenarios play in his head over and over and it's enough to make him cry even if it's a little. He doesn't fear death but he does believe that if it were to claim him that it should just claim him instead of linger and draw out his demise. Which is why he was open to sacrificing himself he already lived his life, the others haven't especially Zoey. He wants them to have a chance at a normal life, one that isn't filled with the dead. He wants them to have a life.

Ellis is so autism and adhd to me. He sees nick as a brother even if nick doesn't view him as the same he would still take a bullet for him even after every mean thing he has said to him. Ellis is not stupid or anything like that. He's really bad at social cues and just everywhere at once. He is very warmhearted, hopeful, and caring which some will see as being naive especially in a situation like this. Rochelle sees him as a younger brother and is very protective over him, nick slowly gets protective over him to in a brotherly way. Coach is the only one that tries to teach him cues and tries to give him a better sense of judgement and is extremely patient with him. Every single story he has told of him and Keith are all real and not exaggerated they just have gotten into really insane shit. I like to think they have matching tattoos I imagine it's either fish related or car related. They were both mechanics and made all sorts of shit. I also think that Ellis never had a dad and was only raised by his mom and he still believes that Keith and his mom is out there somewhere amongst the hell. If he were to ever see them dead/turned... hmm... well... :( he'd be broken.

#post #ask #anonymous #l4d #l4d2 #hcs #TY FOR WANTING TO HEAR MY l4D THOUGHTS HEHEHE #im so normal can you tell

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beevean · 2 years

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Surge doesn't look cool or appealing to me at all, she just looks like a combination of silly and ugly that made me feel like I shouldn't take her seriously

Her design is so ugly to me

That stupid ass black splotch clashes with the yellowish-green of her fur and the yellow of her clothes, it should have been made dark green

or better yet, no stupid black splotch, give her black eye markings! She's supposed to be punk, right?

Her teeth are so dumb, peak 3edgy5me, how did she get them? Was she born with shark teeth? Did Sonic's DNA give them? Did Starline decide to change her teeth to make her look more menacing? I only know that it's such a lazy way to say "yo she's evil", same for Scourge, it's as cliché as giving your villain horns, and my god Thomas Rothlisberger draws her mouth in such an unappealing way

Her clothes are a punch in the eye, you can't tell me that running around in those poofy pants is comfortable, also why poofy pants? Why one round element in her triangular, jagged, punk-inspired design? Why not shorts, or form fitting pants like in one of her concept designs?

What's the point in Riders-style gloves? What's the point in wings on her shoes? They do nothing but clutter her busy design

Her metallic accessories are also overkill but at least they have an in-universe explaination. I'd personally just limit myself to rings and those things under her shoes, since she mainly uses her powers through her hands and feet - unless you're telling me that her ponytail sticks up because she electrifies it through her band lol. But her earrings, bracelets and studs on her shoes are too much.

Her spines are nice. They give her an unique silhouette, and without her ponytail she'd have very long hair, which is uncommon in Sonic characters but wouldn't be as out of place as Sally's human hair. This is the only element of her design that I can fully praise. Oh, and her tail, it’s unique and cute.

You know a character with a good combination of silly and menacing? Infinite.

He has so many edgy design elements that it's hard to take him seriously, like the clawed gloves, the pointy boots with his own symbol under him, and of course the tragic one-eyed mask. And yet he also has big ears, long flowing hair and a fluffy tail. He's a canid like Tails. He's endearing to me.

And still his design isn't nearly as much of a clusterfuck as this one:

And this is an artist that can draw her well. Rothlisberg sure can't, and he was the main artist of IS. Bleh.

#sonic the hedgehog #fans don't look #the only fanarts of surge i liked were like of exceptional quality #and didn't show her teeth lmao #there was also one with purple clothes and her hair down #it was cute ngl

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buriedinleather · 1 year

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home is where the heart aches [ ghost x soap one-shot fanfic ]

Summary : Ghost stopped loving Christmas long before he realized his father had never loved him. It took Simon Riley a lot longer to catch up. Slow on the draw as his old man would say— if that piece of shit were still alive, he’d laugh if he knew that weak little kid still drove around cities with his nephew’s stuffie in the back seat.

Ship : Simon 'Ghost' Riley & Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Wordcount : 1034

Content Warnings: Hurt / Comfort, references to character death, references to child abuse, angst with a happy ending

Find my work on Archive or read under the cut!

Ghost stopped loving Christmas long before he realized his father had never loved him. It took Simon Riley a lot longer to catch up. Slow on the draw as his old man would say— if that piece of shit were still alive, he’d laugh if he knew that weak little kid still drove around cities with his nephew’s stuffie in the back seat. For safety, of course.

Ghost couldn’t bear to look at that beat-up, dirty stegosaurus plushie for too long. Even now, it feels like eyes are on him. Jacob, Tommy, the lot of them. Still dead as ever. Ahead of him the road twists and turns, the city's lights a bright haze as one hand grips the wheel and the other a spoonful of chocolate vanilla swirl ice cream. It’s half melted as it sits in the cup holder.

Blue lights.

“Blue ones, yeah.”

He makes a turn a little too sharp, distracted by blindly trying to dip the spoon into the ice cream cup. The crunch of ice and snow snaps him back to the present.

“Was mum’s favorite color.”

He doesn’t really know why he bothers talking to himself. Or whatever else is in there. Sometimes there’s a reply, sometimes there isn’t

A particularly colorful display catches his eye. The storefront of a toyshop. Vintage, large bulbs line the frame of the windows. Inside he can see a beautiful tree that’s somehow withstanding what appears to be hundreds of ornaments.

He rolls the car to a stop and rolls down the windows. A gust of wind hits him hard enough that he has to squint. The cashier sweeping the inside of the store glances at him at least three times. Not that Ghost can really blame him. Mask puts off a lot of people.

His fingers tremble a little before he grabs the half-finished cup of ice cream. The next time the cashier gives him an awkward glance, he raises the cup of ice cream as if to toast him. After that, the cashier pays him no mind.

Ghost lets the Jeep idle as he finishes up the ice cream. The second cup will go untouched. Like it does every year, it’ll sit in the cupholder until Christmas Day passes.

Another gust of wind hits him and he lets out a shaky breath. This is all bullshit. Tradition is bullshit. Joseph is dead in the ground just like the rest of them.

“Sorry I didn’t get you anything this year, kid.”

Turning off the car and grabbing the keys, he hops out and throws the empty cup into a near full trash bin. It reeks. The street lights streak across his vision. Ghost rubs the bridge of his nose. Behind him, in the distance, footsteps. The crunch of snow. A slow, lazy pace.

Ghost’s mental walls slam back up as he turns, keeping his movements slow and fluid. As he looks toward the footsteps, he swears his heart nearly jolts out of his chest.

“ Johnny ?”

How much had he seen? Fuck. Fuck .

“Ghost!” The man wears a smile better than Monroe could wear a dress. Tentative, nervous, but still has that natural warmth that Ghost can’t get enough of. “I, uh, honestly didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I grew up here.” He keeps the reply short as he glances him up and down. An ugly sweater featuring a cat’s ass up, digging into a Christmas box. Well-fitted jeans. Leather boots. “Why’re you here, MacTavish. Make it good.” He doesn’t mean to sound angry. Doesn’t even know why his heart keeps hammering away.

“Ah dinnae ken…” Soap looks sheepish as he looks away, rubbing at the back of his neck. Ghost can see the blush travel from his cheeks down to his throat. “Family’s been a little rough lately. Figured, I don’t know— It’s stupid.” He settles once he’s a good six feet away from Ghost, still not meeting his gaze.

Something’s not right here. He can feel it in the same way he feels like he wants to peel off his own skin when the lamppost flickers. “Johnny.” He grabs his shoulder and squeezes. “Tell me. That’s an order.”

Soap swallows hard before looking up at him. “Y’know, my family just…it’s been hard this year. They said I’ve been different. Making people uncomfortable. That I’ve changed. I don’t think I’ve changed, you know? It still feels like me— but they just. Kept treating me like they just know somethin’ is wrong, you know? Fuck, shit, okay, I’m rambling— Sorry, L.T.”

His eyelashes shadow his eyes as he tilts his head down. “I just wanted to feel close to someone special, too. I didn’t want to bother him because I know the holidays are hard, but. I don’t know. I figured if I was here, in this country, then maybe it wouldn’t feel like we were worlds apart, you know?”

Ghost holds onto Soap’s shoulder a little tighter. “What kind of fucking idiot stood you up for the holidays?”

Soap pauses, nose wrinkling a little, and then he laughs. He laughs so hard that it echoes in the streets. “Jesus Christ— Simon . Do you really need me to say it? After all we’ve been through?” His cheeks are even rosier now. Ghost remains silent. Staring. Waiting. “I’m talking about you, Simon. It’s always been you.”

Something in his brain clicks into place when he’s called that. Simon. Simon Riley. It’s been a long time. “Me. Right.” His voice is softer. Doesn’t carry as much weight as it usually does. When Simon looks down at Johnny, he can’t find anything in his eyes that’s insincere. Bright, glassy, hopeful .

Ghost lets silence hang in the air. Three seconds, ten, then twenty. “Get in the car. If you ask questions, your ass is hitting the nearest slush pile.”

When Johnny smiles Ghost swears the wind is a little less cold. “No problem, L.T. I’m just happy to be here.”

They get in the car together, Ghost opening the front passenger side for Johnny before getting in himself.

If home is where the heart aches, then Simon must have been home the moment he laid eyes on one Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.

#call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #soap mactavish #ghost simon riley #ghost x soap #ghost call of duty #soap call of duty #simon riley #mw2 fic #cod fic #sfw fanfic #[ fanfiction : one shots ]#[ fan fiction : call of duty ]

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retronamic · 2 years

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Arcane Women (Oddly Specific) Hobbies

Г Vi |

- If I said boxing or any vigorous activity would be tooo damn obvious. Sooooo I slept on it, and vi definitely collected and trained bugs (yes i said trained)

- I mean look at her and tell me she wasn't the type of kid to have some random bug on them

- Ik it sounds gross asf but hear me out.

-In Zaun there isn't much to do to pass the time that won't result in you running for your lives. Soooo the kids of the Undercity held underground ✨bug fights✨ (kinda like dog fights but for bugs)

- Here you brought your best bug didn't matter the species and you made them battle till someone was eaten or turned over

- Vi was the undefeated champion since she snagged herself a stag beatle, who she named Caesar.

- Caesar was a big boi soo was no surprise he became the undefeated champion of the bug fights

- She loved tf outta that bug. So much so that when Caesar sadly passed away, Vi was devastated. They held a funeral procession at the back of the Last drop. Everyone gave a eulogy and paid their respects (No one really cared bout the damn bug they just wanted to make Vi happy)

- It took Vi 3 months to recover. During those 3 months Vander had to help her do the basic tasks of life like eating and showering

- She thinks of him every now and then when she goes collecting. She collects for fun. She finds them, admires them, tries to guess the bug and takes a pic or two. No more bug fights for her, plus it wouldn't feel the sameeeee

Г Sevika |

- Miss Sevika can sewwwww (I prolly saw this from some other creators blog posts yet sadly I can’t remember who they were s but yea she definitely sews)

- Embroider, patch up or make a whole as dress, she can do it allll

- I see her developing this skill as a means of survival. In Zaun, clothes ain't cheap. Sooo it's best to keep the ones you have now for as longggg as you can

- Later on in life, when she began working for Silco, she suddenly could afford more clothes than she needed

- Being one to be stuck in her ways, she still prefers to repair or make her own clothes cuz, one it helps her relax and 2. her body portions like her arms and thighs makes it hard to find clothes that fit her well and still her enough mobility to fight

- If yall have been together for a while then she would make you a scarf or two and that's onlyyyy if yall have been together for long. She’s not going to wasting her yarn on a one night stand.

- Those stitches are made with loveeeee ok and you better wear them even if the designs are ugly asf (since sev is more the dress maker rather that the stylists)

Г Grayson |

- Lovesssssssssssss wood work

- I can see her as the type to make bird houses or build her kids a whole ass tree house from scratch

- All her cupboards, dressers and even the bed frame are hand made by yours truly

- She doesn't do it much as she is the sheriff and duty calls. But sometimes, you catch her wilding a piece of wood to make a cute little animal sculpture

- When she proposed to you, she presented the ring in a hand crafted wooden box (you only noticed that after cuz the diamond on that ring was blinding)

- THAT SHIT WAS SOOOO CUTEEEE THOOOO

Г Mel |

- Ik she's the residential arts and crafts bish of the show (she had them 64 Crayola crayons on stand by) but have you seen her family, cause I have (Hiiii miss mel’s mom~)

- Girlie can fighttttttttt. She’s definitely trained in hand to hand and long distance combat. Perks of having a warlording family yk?

- But Mel being the girl boss she is, I feel she would take it a step further and do something like capoeira

- Capoeira is a martial art-infused dance thought to have originated in 16th-century Brazil, which draws attention for having an acrobatic, athletic style.

- To me that screams Mel, it’s elegant yet deadly (and smth her mother probably hates soooo all the better fit for her)

- You would sometimes watch from a distance and admire how she delivered powerful blows yet graceful blows to the sand bag, all without breaking a sweat

Г Caitlyn |

- Runs a tumblr blog. That’s it.

- Most specifically a Lana Del Rey tumblr blog (pppfffffttttttt ahhahahhahaa)

- Daily Lana quotes, gifs, and she even used Lana song lyrics as words of daily affirmations (the projection is really shining through with her)

- She mainly did it in her past time as a way to interact and talk with people who shared her love of the goddess Lana herself

- On a date, she accidently slipped up and mentioned it to you and you beggggeeeddd her to show you. Ofc she said “Absolutely not.” She was not bout to relive her tween cringe years, she rather get run over by a freight train than show anyone her blog

- After an hour of begging, she caved and you saw it

- Make fun of her alllll you want, but she had a color palette. The pics were on point, man every post correlated with the main page’s theme

- DON'T PLAY WITH HER INTERIOR DESIGN SKILLS

#arcane #sapphic #mel medarda #sevika #vi #caitlyn #arcane hcs #arcane women #enforcer grayson

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Patience of a Saint

An Ushijima x virgin reader commission for the wonderful @hearteyes-candyskies, I hope you enjoy it, bby! 💕

Ushijima Wakatoshi x female reader

TW non-con, nsfw, smut, virgin reader

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Ushijima simply shrugs, “Why would I joke about something like that?”

Semi and Tendou share a glance, the former hiding a smirk behind the glass rim of his beer bottle. Tendou had been the one to drag them both downtown for ramen in the middle of the night, an impromptu reunion of sorts, now that the volleyball season had wrapped up and Tendou was back in Sendai.

Perhaps his first mistake had been to allow his friend the option to stay with him instead of booking a hotel. Though, truth be told, Tendou would have undoubtedly monopolised his time regardless of where he was staying, and Ushijima would have allowed him to.

They were friends, after all, and that was what friends did. He was just glad that Semi had been roped in alongside him.

When and how the conversation had steered towards his relationship with you, more specifically the details regarding your bedroom exploits together, Ushijima isn’t entirely sure, but he has no reason to lie to his friends.

The disbelieving look on Tendou’s face, however, makes him wonder if he’s said something wrong. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been dating this girl for how many months now, and you haven’t actually slept together yet?”

At that, Ushijima shakes his head. “We’ve slept together,” he corrects, taking a sip of his own beer. He likes sleeping with you, finds an odd sense of comfort he’s never felt before, waking up to find you curled against his side.

Most mornings Ushijima has no trouble getting out of bed for an early start. He’s found that lately, at least on the nights you stay over, that’s no longer the case.

The snort from his right is abruptly cut off into a choking cough as Semi tries and fails to mask his amusement. “He means sex, dude. You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

“No.”

The loud cackles from the ex-middle blocker are enough to draw the attention of several other patrons, but Tendou pays them no mind. “Why the hell not? Is she hideously ugly or something?”

“Nope,” Semi answers in his stead, a little too quickly for Ushijima’s liking. But he supposes he cannot blame his friend for noticing your attractiveness. You are, of course, beautiful - he’s told you many times.

A lone, red eyebrow quirks, glittering amusement dancing across Tendou’s face, “Are you… are you having trouble performing, big guy?”

Semi almost chokes on his mouthful, and even Ushijima feels the tips of his ears flush red. “No,” he asserts with a frown. “She…” he pauses, unsure for the first time whether this might be a line that he’s crossing to reveal something so personal between the two of you.

It’s not like he hasn’t discussed sex with them before. He has an almost uncomfortable amount of knowledge regarding the girls the redhead has been with, and Semi is no better.

(Semi was actually far, far worse.)

And truth be told he’s never been shy to share his own exploits with his friends, either. You might be the first girl that Ushijima’s ever loved, but love is not a necessary requirement for sex. He ensured that his partners left satisfied and so did he, there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

But you mean something to him. You mean everything.

“She… wants to wait,” he says quietly. “She’s-”

Tendou’s red eyes widen, his face transforming into an expression of delighted surprise as he puts it all together. “She’s a virgin?!”

“Hey, dumbass,” Semi grunts, smacking his old friend over the back of his head, “you wanna say that a little louder? I don’t think the entire restaurant heard you.”

Tendou waves off his admonishment with a flick of his wrist, his attention firmly fixed on the ace. “So I was right then? You found yourself a cute, innocent little virgin for a girlfriend?”

Ushijima doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to.

He can still remember the scared look on your face the first time you stopped him, the way your hands shook and your pretty eyes filled with tears as you explained. Did you truly believe he would leave you over something as simple as that?

While he might have been… somewhat disappointed, he understood. He loves you, he’s known that for a while. He could be patient, wait for you to become accustomed to him, wait for you to get over your fears and apprehension.

Not that you make it easy for him. He knows you aren’t teasing him on purpose with low cut dresses and too short skirts, cuddling close in bed at night just so you can grind your ass against the swell of his cock, you’re too innocent for such things.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the heat that pools in his gut, the stirrings of desire and twitch of his cock every time you bend over in front of him and he’s rewarded with a perfect view. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to excuse himself to the bathroom, bracing himself against the wall, bent over and fisting his cock to the mental image of you spread out naked, desperate and begging before him.

“Wait, wait, hold up. I’m still a bit ticked off that you’ve been dating this girl for months and managed to hide her from me, your very best friend. I wanna see pics!”

Ushijima exhales, “You will meet her tomorrow-”

But it’s a fruitless endeavour, as Semi’s already scrolling through his phone to pull up your social media. Dutifully he passes it across the table, and Ushijima can only watch as Tendou’s eyes widen and a wicked grin creeps across his face.

“You, my big, beautiful, brawny friend, have the patience of a saint. My condolences.”

—

He meets you the very next day, and there’s a strange feeling in Ushijima’s chest as he watches you collapse into a fit of giggles at Tendou’s joke, the redhead’s arm slung casually over your shoulders.

He’s pleased that you get along with his old friends, it’s not something he’s ever had to concern himself with with his previous partners. They were nothing more than blips on a radar - not necessarily one night stands, but hardly worth introducing to the people who matter most to Ushijima.

Yet he can’t help but linger on Tendou’s comment from the night before.

You hadn’t told him that you were waiting for marriage. It wasn’t a religious vow you’d taken. It was just that you weren’t ready for sex yet. You asked for time.

And he’d understood. Your relationship was new, and he supposed that for your first time he was perhaps intimidating. You were shy. Nervous.

It was to be expected.

But hasn’t he proven by now that he can be gentle? That he loves you, and he has absolutely no intention of leaving you? You’re the only one he wants to be with - the only one he’ll ever want to be with. If you’re waiting for the right ‘one’ to lose your virginity to, what more does he have to do to convince you that he’s it?

Which makes him consider, watching you smile at him as you duck into his kitchen to grab some more snacks, whether you might not be as invested in this relationship as he is.

He doesn’t doubt that you love him, but even as you sidle up beside him, letting him tuck you to his side where you belong, he can’t help but question whether the true reason you haven’t allowed him to take you as he wants is because you’re still under the assumption that your relationship has an expiration date.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him.

Sex is separate from love, Ushijima knows that, but he’s also firmly of the belief that it can be an act of intimacy, an expression of love deeper than words or other actions can convey. He wants to feel that with you.

He wants to watch you writhing beneath him, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking it for all it’s worth, lost in the ecstasy that only he can bring you.

He wants to know what sounds you’ll make, what pretty moans and gasps he can draw out from you as he fucks you within an inch of your sanity.

He wants to look in your eyes the first time he makes you cum, wants to take his time, to kiss you slowly, baptise you in pleasure and watch as you surrender yourself completely to the love he has for you.

Ushijima doesn’t have time to waste on romantic flings and relationships that will go nowhere. You are his future, so it does not make sense for you to keep holding yourself back where sex is concerned.

The sound of your laugh breaks through Ushijima’s musing and he’s pulled back to the present as you recount the story of how the two of you met to the redhead. He’s told Tendou before, but somehow the way you tell it made it sound better. You paint him in a better light, make yourself out to be the awkward one, stumbling over your apologies when it was his fault that you’d tripped in the first place.

You don’t have a clue about the weeks leading up to that moment, but it hardly matters. He’s content merely just to listen as you speak, your cheeks warming, long lashes fluttering as you glance up at him with that gentle smile of yours.

He loves you.

Across from the both of you, he catches the pointed look in Tendou’s eye-

It will be good for the both of you.

-and comes to a decision.

Unsurprisingly, the redhead just grins brightly when Ushijima corners him shortly afterwards, telling him that he will have to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

“No worries, I can crash at Semisemi’s,” he sings, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “You two need your space, I get that.”

Ushijima nods, turning to leave, only for Tendou to reach out and stop him. “Yes?”

“You know, I kinda like her, Ushiwaka. Think she’ll be good for you, so try not to break her in two tonight, yeah?”

He frowns at the comment, causing Tendou to break into a fit of laughter.

By now, he should be used to his friend’s ribbing, but the thought of hurting you even as a joke doesn’t sit well with the ace.

To his credit, Tendou plays his role well. You all but beg him to stay for dinner, but he just mournfully shakes his head, sighing about Eita twisting his arm and forcing him to go watch him and his band play at some local bar.

And then, it’s just the two of you.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have put more effort into making this romantic for you. He’s never had to try with things like that before. He should have cooked dinner, and maybe considered candles and roses, or even music.

Instead, you order takeout and eat it sprawled across Ushijima’s lap, and he cannot find it within himself to mind. The most mundane activities are made better simply for you being by his side, he’s found.

He waits, fingers casually stroking along your arm as you curl up to his side to watch something on TV. You seem to be enjoying it, if the giggles that spill from your lips are anything to go by, but Ushijima finds himself distracted by the gnawing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an eagerness that has him twitching to act.

It doesn’t help that he’s all too aware of the softness of your body pressing against his.

But he won’t have your first time together be on his living room couch, of all places. He has enough patience to wait for weariness to set in, and when you yawn trying to muffle it against his shoulder, Ushijima almost smiles. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

You nod, and he presses a gentle kiss to your hair before helping you up.

He knows that you like to shower before sleeping, and while there’s a voice in his head that whispers for him to go and join you, Ushijima simply strips out of his clothes, sits on the edge of his bed and waits.

When you emerge from the steam, smelling faintly of the vanilla and citrus body wash he’d bought after the first night you’d stayed over, he stiffens. Instead of your usual sleeping attire (an old tee-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts) you’re clad solely in one of his fluffy towels, hair still damp, skin glistening with stray droplets of water.

“Hey, sorry I forgot my-” you pause, words trailing off as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, utterly naked. For a split second, you freeze in place, eyes wide and lips softly parted, like a deer caught in headlights.

And then, just as Ushijima moves to stand, you snap out of it.

“Oh my god!” you cry, whirling around and clutching the knot of your towel, hiding yourself from his view and burying your face in your hands. “I-I’m sorry!”

It’s rather adorable how flustered you get by something as natural as nakedness.

“Why wou- you know what, nevermind. I…uh, I forgot my clothes, they’re just on my bag I think, could you, um- could you please pass them to me?”

He spies them, folded neatly on the top of the overnight bag you’d packed. Instead, he reaches out to take your hand and gently tug you back towards him.

“Wakatoshi, what are you-” but your surprised protests are swallowed up as he leans down to kiss you. Yet instead of softening to his touch, allowing him to take the lead as he usually does, you stiffen in his arms, your hands finding their way to his bare chest, trying to push him away.

“Toshi, just- just stop for a second, please?” you gasp, managing to extricate yourself from the kiss.

That won’t do.

He has to be gentle with you, but with anticipation coiling in his gut, his cock stirring at the thought of your almost naked body pressed against his, it’s easy for him to forget his strength as he rids you of the offending material, bends down and hefts you up into his arms.

“Shh, little one,” he says, ignoring your shouts as he takes the three steps over to his bed so he can lay you down. “I know you’re scared, but you have no need to be. I won’t hurt you. I’m going to make us both feel good, I promise.”

He bestows another kiss against your forehead as he climbs over your trembling frame.

“Babe… Toshi, please- I-I’m not, I don’t-” your eyes are wide and filling with tears and you’re shaking your head - it fills him with a flicker of unease, but he knows deep down that this is just temporary.

You need this as much as he does, and once he shows you how wonderful he can make you feel, you’ll thank him.

Cradling your cheek with one large hand, he tries to tell you as much.

But your breath is coming in quick pants, your terrified eyes darting past his broad frame as if you’re trying to look for an escape route while pleas and whimpers spill almost incoherently from your lips, and he realises that words won’t be enough.

He’ll just have to show you.

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing you once more before turning his attention to the rest of your body. It’s not the first time he’s seen you bared, of course, but it is the first time he’s been allowed the luxury of taking his time to enjoy it.

Your whimpers are soft and distressed as his lips trail down the column of your throat, resisting the urge to nip and suck at the tender skin, and you squirm under him when his mouth finds your breasts. The sounds you make for him, your choked little gasps only feed the pit of hunger deep inside of him. You must be able to feel his cock, big and thick, rutting up against your stomach, leaving a shining trail of oozing pre-cum across your skin as he busies himself playing with your tits.

They’re soft and pillowy, just the perfect size for his hands to grasp and knead, and the way that you keen for him, jerking a little when he sucks a nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the pebbling bud is utterly captivating. You’re so caught up in the attention he’s paying to your chest that you miss the hand that trails down your side, snaking between your trembling thighs.

At least until long, thick digits swipe along your folds.

Like a frightened little rabbit, your eyes widen and you jolt into action. “Wakatoshi, stop!” you cry, hands finding his chest once more to try and push him off of you, your legs kicking out uselessly beneath him.

His expression softens, his thumb sweeping against your thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Shh, it’s okay. I need to prepare you to take me, otherwise it will hurt.”

If anything, your expression only becomes more panicked. “No, no, no, no-”

“Let me take care of my girl. You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and already his fingers are sliding back to your pussy. You’re not as wet as he’d like, but it’s no matter, as his thumb finds your clit, his other fingers returning to tease at your entrance.

The soft little moan you try and fail to bite back as one finger slides inside of you sends a rush of blood straight to his cock. It twitches and throbs, aching for relief and perhaps if you were anybody else, he might throw caution to the wind and fuck you right then and there, regardless of whether you were ready or not.

But as you shiver, gasping as he curls the thick digit inside of you, he’s reminded that he needs to have patience. You are not worth rushing, and despite the feral beast inside of him that’s snapping and snarling to sink into your heat, he wants to savour this.

You only get one first time, and he’s determined to make yours unforgettable.

“That’s just one finger,” he tells you, his thumb circling your clit in slow, steady movements. “You’re going to take three before I can fuck you properly, understand?”

He doesn’t want to break you in half, after all.

You still writhe beneath him, shaking and jolting as he teases your shining pearl and coaxes your pussy into accepting another finger, and when he lowers his mouth back to your tits to add to the pleasure building inside of you, a sob bursts free.

“Please- please, Toshi!”

A third finger prods at your entrance-

“Please don’t!”

He almost winces at the sharp hiss of pain that escapes you, but he reassures himself that it will only be for a moment. The stretch and burn will give way to pleasure as he fucks them into you slowly. Your pussy is so warm, so tight, sucking the digits in deeper and when rough fingertips brush against a particular spot on your walls and you cry out, Ushijima allows a small, adoring smile to cross his face.

“Good girl,” he purrs, quickening his pace.

You’ve always been so beautiful to him, but when you cum for him that first time, face flushed and dewy, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try not to scream in pleasure, he doesn’t think there’s anything on earth that could possibly compare.

The same could be said about the way you taste, he thinks, greedily sucking your juices off of his fingers.

“Wakatoshi,” you beg, lying spent across his bed still reeling from the afterglow of your orgasm as he slides your thighs further apart so he can settle between them. He grunts a little as he wraps his hand around his flushed cock and guides it to your sopping entrance, marvelling at the way you shiver and mewl when he nudges it against your oversensitive clit.

Olive eyes find yours, and he cannot resist leaning down to claim your lips once more as he sinks slowly inside of you.

The sound that escapes him is deep and guttural, but the feel of your warm pussy clenching around his throbbing cock is simply heaven, and he almost - almost - loses control.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches your face as you take his cock, feeling every vein and ridge stretch you out, the pained whimpers that slip from behind clenched teeth. He knows that he’s bigger than average, that his girth is impressive and that even with his foreplay you’re still squeezing around him like a vice, but he forces himself to take it slow, to allow you the time to adjust.

He almost starts when you reach out to grab him, fingers painfully sinking into the muscles of his forearm as you fight off another wave of tears, so he pauses for a beat, peppering your face with more kisses. “You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl.”

When your grip eases, he resumes moving, drawing his hips back and trying not to curse at the friction your slick walls are creating.

“I love you,” he grunts, “so much.”

And then he rocks his hips forward - steadily, filling you up again, allowing you to get used to his girth. He kisses you, trails rough fingertips gently along your skin, teases you finding all the sensitive spots that make you moan for him.

Gradually, he feels you relax around him.

The obscene sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin is drowned out by your soft whines and pants as Ushijima slowly picks up the pace. He fucks you deeply, but not roughly, taking care not to hurt you anymore than necessary.

It’s slow and sensual - your body can’t help but respond to his ministrations, and when you clench around him, sucking him deeper Ushijima can’t help but groan, feeling the tight coil of heat in his core burn as pleasure ripples through him.

He wants more. Needs it.

Ushijima’s hands wrap around your thighs, easing them back towards your chest so that your ankles fall over his broad shoulders. He kisses at your calf when confusion flickers across your face, but doesn’t offer any explanation as he snaps his hips forward once more. The choked scream that leaves your lips is beautiful, but he can barely focus on that when he finally bottoms out, his balls slapping against your ass as another hoarse groan leaves him.

He promised himself that he would be gentle with you, but as your velvety walls quiver and convulse around him and your lips fall open in another soundless scream as your second orgasm hits, he’s not entirely sure that he’ll be able to keep that promise.

There’s a tightening in his balls and he can feel the tether he has on his control fraying little by little as you moan for him, your hips rocking up to meet his fervent thrusts. You’re beautiful, perfect, and he’s losing himself to the feeling of being buried inside of you. It’s indescribable, the way your pussy’s fluttering around him, clenching and pulsing, kissing his cock with sweltering heat - it feels like the very edges of his sanity are blurring as he fucks himself deeper inside of you, his cockhead hitting your cervix with every thrust. He wants to cum, wants to fill you up with his thick load again and again and again, wants you so full it’s leaking out of you-

It won’t be enough, it’ll never be enough.

He loves you, and Ushijima won’t ever be satisfied again without the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, milking him for every drop that he’s worth.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere ushijima wakatoshi #yandere ushijima x reader #yandere ushijima #yandere ushijima wakatoshi x reader #tw non con #virgin reader

2K notes · View notes

y0itsbri · 3 years

Note

Hi Bri 🥰

C-16 if you'd like to 👀

Coffee dates and disasters

au with college!lip and barista!mandy where ian is a frequent visitor at the campus café and meets mickey under rather unfortunate circumstances. don't cry over spilled milk, buddy.

which also fits under a.u.gust for @gallavichthings

words: 2.4k

"never would have thought you the type to come to one of these places," ian mused, looking around the small café with only lamps and string lights illuminating the space. "can't believe college changed you, man," ian clutched at his heart dramatically.

"don't worry. 'm still the annoying bastard you love so dearly," lip squeezed ian's shoulder before he sauntered up to the counter.

the barista's bored expressed brightened when she saw them. her perky demeanor was matched by a high pitched voice, "hey lip," she smiled, dark lipstick striking. she appraised ian with a somewhat predatory eye, "hello, lip's friend."

"uh, brother," ian coughed.

lip rolled his eyes, "and he's gay so don't even try it, mandy."

she pouted and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, "not that it's any of your business, anyways."

ian chuckled besides him, drawing another smile out of mandy, this one kinder, sweeter.

"what can i get you boys?"

the pink highlights glistened in her dark hair as she whipped up lip's cold brew and ian's caramel macchiato, then proceeded to insist that this one is on the house. neither of them argued, but thanked her before they settled down in some stools by the window.

"fucking the barista privileges?" ian asked, raising his eyebrow at his slut of a brother.

"i think of it more like fellow south sider charity," he rubbed his bottom lip, "but yours works too," lip smirked around the edges of his coffee cup.

"you're an idiot."

"can a man who got us free drinks really be deemed an idiot?" lip philosophized.

ian paused, taking a moment of thorough consideration. he looked lip straight in the eyes as he answered, "if that man is you, then without a doubt."

lip tried to knock ian's cup out of his hand, but failed at his attempt. ian thanked his well-practiced jrotc skills and a lifetime experience of growing up in a house packed with annoying siblings for his victory.

they chatted about the robotics classes lip was taking, how he got full-time access to one of the labs, and his weird ass roommate who may or may not be gay if ian is at all interested. ian scrunched up his face. after hearing so many horror stories about the guy, ian didn't want anywhere near him. he wasn't that desperate yet.

the second that lip was out of his seat and heading to the bathroom, the beautiful mess that was mandy descended.

"hiiii lip's gay brother," she leaned against the table.

"it's ian," he spun his empty cup in his hands. he couldn't help himself from smiling at her charisma.

"well hi, ian, i just wanted to say sorry if i spooked you earlier. i just had no idea lip's brother would be so cute!"

"his ugly mug's not too hard to beat." ian laughed. "he got the short end of the gallagher stick, literally."

"cute and charming. you're funny, ian gallagher, i like you." she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, a movement so soft compared to her rather frantic appearance. "come back here anytime and it's on the house, yeah? i work most evenings after three."

"oh. uh- okay," ian scrambled for words, "thanks."

she squeezed his shoulder once before lip returned with a rather obnoxious entrance.

"ayo mands, stop harassing him!"

ian ducked his head in embarrassment.

"oh, shut up! i'm just clearing your cups," she winked at ian as she left.

mandy was something else. but she was kind and good company. ian could get used to the chill atmosphere over the chaos of the gallagher house anytime. he might just take up her offer.

"you'd think with all the time you spend here, you'd be offered a scholarship or something by now." mandy sipped on her chocolate frappuccino as she laid her feet across ian's lap. he always made sure to come visit during her breaks at least twice a week during the past couple months.

ian shrugged, "guess they only had room for one gallagher."

mandy hit his arm in a way that hurt. lip was fucked if he ever broke her heart.

"does fiona even know that this is where you sneak off to?"

"yeah." mandy's look said she didn't believe him. "well, kinda. she thinks i'm visiting lip, brotherly duties and all."

"yeah? how are those brotherly duties?"

"fuck if i know."

she laughed.

"i still think you should apply here for next fall," she encouraged, "could take some art classes."

"i suck at art."

"chemistry?"

"failed that."

"business?"

"yeah, no thanks."

mandy flipped him off, "fine. botany?

"ya know what? sure." he had always wanted to grow tomatoes.

"really?!"

"heart wants what it wants, mandy. we can't all be psychology brainiacs."

"brains and beauty, what can i say?" she teased. ian laughed, eyes glistening towards his friend. mandy made things better.

"hey," she continued, "there's this concert on the main campus lawn this weekend, you should totally come!"

"isn't that just for students?"

"they don't card, dummy."

"right, right, i knew that."

"sureeee. you in?"

ian mentally checked his work schedule.

"i'm in."

lip and ian strolled into the café a few days later. okay, maybe ian had felt a bit guilty for abandoning his brotherly duties lately, but at least this way he could hang out with both his best friends. well he could have if he remembered the fact that mandy had the day off for her behavioral neuroscience midterm. they had literally spent her previous shift reviewing the terms, he should have known.

ian's couldn't help his face from falling as another blonde barista took their orders, mostly eyeing lip the whole time.

"hi lip," she smiled a little too sincerely, "what can i get for you today?"

ian had ordered something new at the recommendation of the blonde and he was not a fan. and to make matters worse, he had to actually pay for the atrocity that he wouldn't even be able to finish.

"so how's your little coffee dates with mandy?" lip asked over his cup.

ian nearly choked on his god-awful americano. "how'd you know?"

"please. she's obsessed with you. every time i see her, it's 'ian this,' 'ian that,' 'ian might apply here in next year.'"

"oh."

"yeah, oh. when were you gonna tell me?!"

“it’s all mandy’s idea, i’m not even sure i want to,” ian muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“dude, i’ve literally shared a room with you since the day you popped out of monica’s wretched womb, you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

okay maybe ian had been getting increasingly more excited about the idea of attending school and actually learning things that he wants to learn. something that might actually lead him somewhere real since rotc was looking more and more like a poor man's fantasy the more that he thought about it.

“I was gonna tell you, swear on it.” and he was. once he convinced himself that lip wasn't going to straight up laugh in his face. but the look in his eye seemed genuinely supportive.

“mhm, i gotta catch my english lit class," lip stood up, swinging his tattered tan backpack across one shoulder. he patted ian's shoulder in his big brother ways, "don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah for sure! have fun learning a language you already know!” lip flipped him off at his smartass remark.

soon after, ian stood up to return his drink to the counter, the anxiety from the conversation making him entirely lose whatever appetite he might have had. plus, it wasn’t the same here without lip or mandy. he just wanted to be wrapped up in a cocoon in his own bed. but that was so far away. maybe he could catch an early ride—

thump.

ian crashed into a guy’s sturdy body.

the remnants of his shitty drink spilled in an americano nightmare over both of them, ceramic pieces shattering on the floor in a truly horrific manner.

ian yipped and the other man let out a grunt of irritation.

they were fucking soaked. well, at least the coffee wasn't hot? ian tried justifying the situation, but, nah, this was bad.

"shit! i'm so sorry, lemme," ian reached out and the shorter man flinched away.

they were now far enough apart that ian got a good look at him. a leather jacket.. now covered in ian's drink -- shit. and shockingly piercing blue eyes that lingered too long on ian's before his cheeks turned a shade of pink that made ian's stomach flutter.

he might have seemed cold if he didn’t make ian feel so warm.

"it’s cool, man. i gotta go, uh," and he walked out of the café without looking back.

fuck.

ian smelled like coffee the entire train ride to the back of the yards. he laid in his bed regretting his entire life.

no mandy. no lip. no dignity.

the day of the concert that mandy had invited him to rolled around. ian wouldn’t admit it, but he was nervous to spend a coffee-less evening with mandy, their entire friendship built inside that one room. his little bubble of safety was bursting.

well, to be honest, the bubble had burst the moment that his disaster of a coffee was spilled onto one of the most ridiculously pretty guys that he's ever seen. every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the guy’s face shift from hostile to something else. he was torn between wanting to know the his name and also on never seeing him again in fear that he would simply pass away of embarrassment.

hopefully mandy hadn't heard about it. they may not have been friends for a long time, but he already knew that she would never let him live it down.

"hey ian!" her familiar voice called. that sounded promising.

his face fell with relief as he finally spotted her at the corner. she embraced him in a warm hug before pulling back and giving him a once over.

"huh, could have sworn you'd still have coffee behind your ear or something after the description karen gave me of your little disaster the other day." she smirked, quite literally double checking behind his ears as they turned hot under her gaze.

"ugh, fuck, how much did she tell you?" he itched his forehead and scrunched up his nose.

"oh, calm your tits, it's funny as fuck." she giggled, punching his arm in a way that still unintentionally hurt.

"whatever. are you excited for the concert tonight?"

their reunion conversation lulled eventually, and ian noticed that they weren't necessarily standing alone.

no. fucking. way.

just his luck, if he was being honest. he probably deserved this.

there he stood. the man that has plagued his dreams the past few days. in a light wash jean jacket that was a little tight on the biceps, leaning casually against the wall, kicking the pebbles on the ground with his boot.

"uh, what's he doing here?" ian gestured towards the victim of The Coffee Incident.

“what, you know him?” mandy asked, walking them towards him.

“vaguely.” if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

"huh. i didn’t think my idiot brother had any friends."

brother? how did ian not realize she had a brother?

"what, did you think i was going to babysit you all night? i can't let everyone here thinking you're my boyfriend, no offense or whatever, but you're in good hands!" she kissed his cheek, clearly not helping her own not-looking-like-her-boyfriend rule.

ian eyed said brother's good hands only to see the faded letters of FUCK U-UP on them. oh.

mandy pushed ian over to her brother, "ian, mickey. mickey, ian," she introduced before pushing and shuffling her way through the crowd of college students to find herself someone’s cheap ass fruity alcohol to mooch off of.

mickey. ian's brain repeated over and over, a chime against the murmuring sea of voices they found themselves enveloped by.

"nice jacket," ian pointed out, an awkward attempt to converse before shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"it's my second favorite." the corners of his mouth lifted like there was more to the statement. ian took the bait, as if he could resist.

"what's your first?"

"first is still airing out the fuckin’ coffee smell," he smirked as ian groaned. "oh c’mon, man, don't go crying over spilled milk."

how could he not? on the bright side, he didn’t seemed to hate ian for it.

“if it was anyone else,” mickey drawled, “they’d have to get a beat down for it.”

“why do I get a free pass?” ian mused.

“well, you’re mandy’s friend, right?”

“yup,” ian tried to suppress his disappointment. he really did. but fiona always told him he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“yeah, that ain’t why, though,” his eyebrows waggled suggestively and ian nearly felt his heart drop out of his ass.

ian blessed whatever coffee god was out there for sending him both mandy and the beautiful man in front of him.

“you wanna go listen to the band?” ian nodded his head towards the stage with passionate players jumping around like they were playing lollapalooza or some shit.

“lead the way, stud, just try to keep your drinks off of me this time,” mickey knocked into ian’s own flannel covered shoulder.

yeah, ian couldn’t believe his luck. maybe karma was finally on his side.

—

mandy smirked at her brother and best friend not-so-subtly checking each other out over the course of the night, bopping their heads to the music and downing whatever free booze they could get their hands on.

she hoped that adding mickey to the equation would be enough incentive to convince ian to stick around. things were better when he was near.

the way that ian followed mickey around like a lost puppy with that dopey moon-eyed look, it seemed like her hopes would come true.

and when both ian and mickey strolled into the café to come visit her at work the next week, mickey in his worse-for-wear leather jacket and ian in borrowed denim, she thanks the coffee gods for her luck.

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babyybitchhh · 3 years

Text

Doflamingo x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 1,000

Warnings: cock warming, objectification, degradation, humiliation, a hint of puppy play if you really squint

A/N: no thoughts, just horny

♥♥♥♥

It was strange how everyone pretended not to notice you on the floor, going about their business as if this were a common, every day occurrence. Maybe it was. Given the sort of man Doflamingo is, it wouldn’t exactly come as a surprise. But you weren’t used to this - not the casual exhibitionism or the borderline painful stretch of your mouth, and you have to actively fight against the urge to pull off his cock while you choke and continue to drool copious amounts of spit all over it.

Instinctively, you wanted to recoil from him in disgust.

Logically, you knew he would make you regret that decision.

So you breathe through your nose, the sound ragged and wet as you try to adjust your jaw to better accommodate him and ease the strain. It does little in the way of good, though. Doflamingo was too big, the length of him thick and hefty - and the way it twitched every few minutes seemed purposely orchestrated just to taunt you. Nudging at the back of your throat to insidiously tickle and activate your gag reflex, making you heave around him as sheets of saliva pool down your chin onto the immaculately upholstered sofa he was sprawled on. So much a king in his castle.

You hadn’t thought he’d go out of his way to make this so hard for you, not when he’d first ordered you to warm his cock for him. You’d believed that, naively, that was truly all he wanted from you. Just a hot, wet maw to cradle him while he discussed business matters and frivolities with his family, offhandedly joking with them as if you weren’t knelt between the impossibly wide spread of his legs with your mouth wedged open.

The others were just as bad, acting as though you don’t even exist while they laugh it up and indulge their boss in whatever he asks of them. You were the same, in a way, but the stark difference between your position and theirs was undeniable. They were his friends, his equals. He saw them as actual people whereas you were clearly just a set of holes for him to use at his own leisure, whenever and however he saw fit.

You’d never felt quite so much like an inconsequential piece of furniture as you do now, snot bubbling out of your nose as you choke on the shame and humiliation that threatens to suffocate you almost as much as Doflamingo’s cock does. Back hunching, you retch and sputter around him; the tears you had valiantly kept at bay until now tracking hot streaks down your flushed skin while you gurgle embarrassingly loud, like you were going to be sick all over his lap.

It wasn’t your intention to make such an unsightly noise, the sound pulled straight up from the very depths of your twisting gut. You would have much preferred to suffer through this mortifying spectacle in relative peace. But the ugly quality of it still draws his attention, as you’d known it would, and you quake on the expensively tiled floor when he slowly glances down at you through the lense of dark sunglasses.

What an incomprehensibly frightening man he was.

“Something wrong, pet?” He drawls, all languid confidence and easy cruelty as his elbow moves to brace on the armrest of the couch. “Don’t tell me you bit off more than you could chew.”

The way he laughs at you makes your throat constrict and you gag again, struggling just to breathe. Doflamingo was completely bereft of sympathy, though, and his mouth pulls in an incredibly unkind sneer as he draws himself up from his reclined position so he can lean forward with a quiet hush of moving, dancing feathers.

Eyes widening, you rapidly try to blink away the hot sting of tears even as you whine and gum at him in a desperate bid to keep your mouth securely latched on his cock, where it belonged. You knew, innately, that he wouldn’t appreciate being denied the comfort of your tongue until he’d given the okay to spit him out - but that doesn’t stop Doflamingo from stooping over you like some sort of massive, hulking vulture laying claim to a fresh kill.

He was a large man by any estimation, particularly when standing at his full, towering height, but this is somehow even worse. You couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being a tiny, powerless little prey animal being swallowed up in his shadow as he reaches back to smooth his palm over the curve of your upturned ass before delivering a series of condescending smacks to it, just as one might do to an amicable dog sniffing at their feet. You whimper and squeal around the intrusion in your mouth, uselessly trying to angle your backside away from the sting of his broad hand, but there’s nowhere for you to go. Not unless you want to risk failing your duty as his personal cock warmer, that is.

Chuckling under his breath at the pitiful display, Doflamingo latches onto your ass and squeezes, giving the meat of it a possessive jostle for good measure. “What’s the matter, girl? Aren’t you having fun? Huh?”

You screw your eyes shut and give your head a faint nod, terrified of disappointing him, but that just makes him laugh even more. You weren’t fooling anyone. Not even yourself.

“Shall we check, then?”

His incredibly long, talon-like fingers shift further back, searching and curling until he finds the seat of your panties which he’d been kind enough not to relieve you of yet. Jolting at the contact, you go ramrod stiff as a powerful shudder rips down your spine with all the destructive force of a lightning strike, making you subconsciously arch and angle your cunt up at his seeking hand.

“That’s what I thought.” He practically growls, indelicately rubbing engorged, puffy lips through thin cotton until you keen and circle your hips for him. “Needy little thing.”

#donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #one piece #self insert bullshit #my writing

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hopeamarsu · 3 years

Text

Of potions and myths - Chapter 8

William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader

Word count 2,8k

Warnings: Some angst, but it’s mostly sappy and fluffy.

A/N: This is it, the final chapter. I’m getting a little emotional over this, this is my baby and I can’t believe it’s finished. It’s done, complete, and OMG. I can’t believe I did it! Wow.

Thank you so much for sticking with me on this ride, I can’t thank you enough ❤️ I hope you enjoy this morning with our bonded couple.

Chapter 7 - Story masterlist

The morning light sweeps across Will’s bedroom and you stir from your slumber as the rays tickle your eyes and nose. It takes a moment to orient yourself, but as you wake up a little more, you feel Will’s strong arm around your middle, keeping you tight against him, the other hand under your pillow and last night comes back in a rush. You burrow into his arms a little more with a smile, feeling his hot breath on your neck and relishing in his warm embrace around you. You feel well-rested and the thought alone makes you giddy.

When the call with his uncle was finished, he’d swept you up from the couch, kissed you soundly and told you about the pull he felt, how it had changed in between you. There hadn’t really been a discussion on what it meant as you’d taken the celebration back to the bedroom and he’d made you cum hard twice until he’d rendered you boneless once again. After a short cleanup, you had settled under the blankets and into his arms, falling asleep tangled up together.

Now, as you lay in his arms, you turn the words from last night in your mind. The pull was still there? But how come you didn’t feel it, only he did? It’s a little concerning, though it might only be because he is a wolf and you are not, but you don’t like it. Worry gnaws in your stomach as you keep wondering how and why it’s different for you now when it wasn’t before. Were you not enough? Was your mundane status not what the bond wanted after all?

“Mmmm, y’think too hard, I can hear you from here,” Will mumbles, kissing your neck. “I thought I’d worn you out last night.” He trails a series of kisses to where he reaches, basking in the combined scents of you both and the heavy aroma of sex still lingering in the air. One of his hand trails down to your naked thigh and he squeezes the flesh gently. He nips gently at your shoulder, a low purr in his chest as his wolf rejoices in the connection you now share.

“You did, I don’t think I’ve slept this good in a long while,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and airy, but failing miserably. He props himself up quickly, all alert now, and holds your shoulder to push you under him. His eyes flash somewhere between red and blue, almost purple as they sweep your face and his nostrils flare as Will takes in the shift in your posture.

“Hey. Talk to me sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”

You turn your head sideways, not wanting to look at him and his inquisitive eyes. You don’t want to tell him, to ruin the mood, but also at the same time you want to share, want to hear him tell you again that all is going to be fine.

The emotional turmoil of the past week and now takes its toll and you can feel hot tears gathering in your eyes and you close them in effort to make them not drop. This is a happy moment, don’t ruin it, you remind yourself over and over again. It’s not a big deal, the elders surely have an explanation for this. And you do feel him, the touch is there! It’s nothing big, just tell him all is well.

“Baby, please. Look at me,” Will pleads with you, watching as you shake your head minutely, mouth in a thin line and eyes scrunched shut. He’s getting more worried by the second and gathers you as close as he can, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck.

“Please sweetheart, don’t push this away. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.” Please don’t push us away, he thinks as he kisses your scar, hoping it will soothe you but it only makes your head shake harder.

“Are you in pain? You’re worrying me right now.” He takes an alarmed look at you, shuffling back a little with eyes running across your body to see if something has happened during the night. A worrisome thought comes to his mind that maybe he hurt you last night, not enough prep or care taken in the frenzy. He itches to run his hands all over your body to make sure nothing is there.

“No, no… I’m okay, just. I think a lot is catching up with me now.” Your voice is raspy as you finally speak. You don’t look at him, opting to keep your eyes closed, a point that is not missed by the man in bed with you. Will lowers his voice a little, something hesitant creeping into his tone as he speaks.

“Do you - ummmm - do you regret... what happened last night?”

He doesn’t want to ask it, he doesn’t want to hear the words if this is what has you upset. But he’s trying, he wants to make this work and this bond flourish and if asking things that make him uncomfortable to voice is it, it’s a price he’s willing to pay. You shoot him a look with wide, panicked eyes and you place your hand on his cheek, stroking the stubble gently.

“Will, no, of course not! Last night was amazing, beyond anything I’d ever hoped for. I’m just… I guess I took the loss of the connection harder than I thought I would.”

He breathes deep from his nose, his shoulders sagging in relief. For a moment he thought the worst, the old wounds and fears rearing their ugly heads and Will gathers you back into his arms, squeezing tight.

Taking a moment to ground himself on you, he closes his eyes and draws in your scent, blissfully mixed with his. The scent of home. He reminds himself that he’ll need to open up about his own scars eventually too, but this is far too important to dismiss. He wants to help you in any way he can and if he can help it, he’ll take all of your worry and pain away.

“Do you want to go back to the elders? Or maybe Frankie’s abuela could help, she’s not in the council but she used to be. She knows a lot and has a good sense of the spirit world. I could invite her over and you could talk. Or perhaps you would like to consult your colleagues?”

He’s spouting off ideas, feeling somewhat helpless. He keeps the more ludicrous ideas to himself now, his agitated mind sprouting off ideas that range from turning you into a wolf (something Will has never done in his life) to running away to live in Norway, far away from any of this but if you want them, he’ll give them to you.

“Will, I’m not…”

“Just say the word sweetheart, whatever you want to do.”

You are about to answer him, when a loud knock on the front door interrupts and Will lets out a low growl. The knock is soon followed by another and another and then Benny’s voice booms from the door.

“Come open the door, brother! And you better be decent, I’m not watching your bare ass this early in the morning William!” He growls again, this time louder. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to make a sound.

“I can hear you growling in there! Come open the door. The boys and I, we brought breakfast and we need to brainstorm how you are going to ask your lovely mate to MOVE IN WITH YOU AFTER THE BONDING!” That little shit. Will leaps out of bed, huffing and forgoing his shirt as he stomps towards the front door.

He wretches it open, eyes flashing in anger as he glares at the three men on his doorstep, shit-eating grins on their faces. Benny winks and shoulders his way in, followed by Frankie and Santi, the latter clapping Will in the back as he squeezes past. The blond drags a hand across his face before closing the door with a sigh and follows his brothers to the kitchen, where Benny has commandeered the space.

He moves around the space like he owns it, picking up items to use for breakfast while Frankie sweeps up the glass shards and Santi gets the coffee running. It’s a well-oiled machine, each of them anticipating the others move but this time Will opts to stay out of it, flicking his eyes between the closed bedroom door and his brothers. He longs to join you back in bed, ease up your worries over the connection and he needs to figure out something fast so he can get the boys out of the house.

But all his plans go out the window as you open the bedroom door and step out, bare feet padding on his floor and his flannel tucked around your body. You’ve dug out some college pants and a tank top to fit under the flannel and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful. All three heads pop up as they register the footsteps and Will smirks a little as he thinks of what goes on in their heads as you reach him and lean up for a kiss.

He tastes his toothpaste on your mouth and a little possessive but happy sound leaves his lips as he accepts the offered lips on his own.

“So, no planning needed then, huh?” Santi quips, picking up a fifth cup from the cupboard. He doesn’t sound surprised, more like that he was expecting this. “I saw you last night as you hurried past, not exactly subtle behavior,” He winks at Benny, who has stopped peeling the avocados.

“And you didn’t tell us?” Benny gestures at himself and Frankie with the peeling knife. The older man snorts. “He didn’t tell you, but I got a text full of emoji peaches and eggplants with the words Will and mate sprinkled in.” The dry tone of Frankie’s voice makes Will snort and he watches amused at his little brother pointing an accusing finger at the third man.

“The fuck Pope?!”

“Hey, you would’ve run your mouth and brought the whole council here had I told you. These two needed a night alone, without anyone hovering over them with research or myths or potions or pressure.” He looks at Benny, who has to shrug, agreeing with the statement.

“But you could’ve told me this morning…”

“Where’s the fun in that? And besides, this had the added bonus of embarrassing Ironhead when you yelled that comment, so I’m going to take my win!” Santi cackles and tries to hide behind Frankie as Benny suddenly gets the urge to throw something in his direction.

Will grips your side softly, steering you to the side, out of view.

“Please excuse those assholes…” He murmurs, turning you so you are face to face and tips your face up from your chin so he can look into your eyes.” Are you okay?” He wants to ask more, but mindful of the men currently wreaking havoc in his kitchen, he keeps his words brief. “Do you want to talk in private?”

“I’m fine Will, really. It just hit me hard, but we’ll figure it out. I’m alright, I promise. We’ll consult the elders later, okay?” Your words feel like a balm on his heart.

“As long as you’re sure, sweetheart.” He rubs your arm before honing in on your bare shoulder peeking from under his flannel and this time he follows his instincts and wraps his arms around you and noses the flesh. It works well for him to hide his face as he speaks the next words, feeling both calm and timid at the same time. This was definitely not the way he thought about doing this but his brothers forced his hand.

“I know you heard them yelling, so I guess there’s no point in hiding this.”

“Yes.” You answer him before he can even get the question out. He’s right, you did hear Benny yelling earlier (the whole street heard) and while it still feels crazy and too soon and out of this world, you know it’s what you want. What you desire. “I’ll move in with you, if that was your question.”

Elated, Will sweeps down to claim your lips into a longer, heavier, more passionate kiss. He grips your hips as he draws you in and slips his tongue into your eager mouth. “Let me, umhmm, get rid of, mmmmm, these idiots and, uhnmmh…” He tries to whisper between kisses, but not a lot comes out. You finally regain your senses and end the kiss, small pants leaving your lips.

You go to speak but Will shakes his head and kisses you hard again. “Just a moment, I want a second to kiss my mate good morning. My beautiful, gorgeous mate who is all mine,” He grins against your lips, relishing in the idea that you are his, he is yours and the bond is strong between you. All mine and I’m all yours, he thinks as he forgets the world and loses himself within your warm lips.

Before he can turn it into a full-blown make-out session, you distance your lips from his, echoing your movements from before. You press your foreheads together briefly before straightening your spine. “Behave, mate,” you tease him and watch surprised at his unconsciously preening form over the word, tucking the information for later use.

Will nearly whines at the loss of you, but your finger on his lips stops any of that and he nibbles on the digit, hoping you’ll entertain his idea of breakfast in bed, for two only, but you have other plans. “They are your brothers and considering our newly-bonded status, I would love to get to know your pack, your family, a little better.”

“Our pack, our family.”

Your eyes might be a little misty and your smile is splitting your face at his words, but sappy as they might be, it feels so right to hear the words from his mouth. You reach up to cup his face between your hands and you press a hard kiss into his plush lips.

“Then let's go and tell them the good news.”

You take his hand into yours and you return to the kitchen, snorting as something green hangs from Santi’s cheek. Frankie is washing his ballcap under the spray and his curls wild around his head as he glares at Benny, who looks mighty proud of his ability to swing guacamole ammo around the room.

Will shakes his head in that exparated love in his eyes one can only have for family and you know that despite what the elders might have to say about the missing connection, or your bond or whatever, this is now your home. Even if the pull never comes back for you, this feels right and that’s all that matters. Despite the worries you had in the morning, they seem to evaporate as you work it out in your mind. You love this man and he loves you, he accepts you into his family. That’s all there really is to it, your mind whispers to you as calmness settles on your heart.

You all sit down around the table and only slightly burnt toast is passed around. Once the plates are full and overflowing, Will tells them the good news. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and kisses your forehead and whoops of joy fill the air.

“So it really worked, huh? You are bonded now?” Santi asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, we are. We’re mates now.” Will nods and steals another small kiss from you, Benny groaning that it looks gross when it’s his big brother. This makes Frankie smack the younger man and grin in your direction. The tiny nod of approval from him goes unnoticed by all but you and you wink back at him.

The boys gently rib at their brother while congratulating you and asking all the questions you don’t know all the answers to but it’s okay. Easy conversation fills the air as the men begin to plan moving all your things into this house later that afternoon and you lean into your mate’s embrace and smile.

Whatever might come next, potion or myth, you know you have this and it makes your heart soar.

It might be the first time a love potion actually led to love.

Of potions and myths taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess @luxmundee @innerpaperexpertcloud

Everything taglist (I fully understand if you want to skip this one, please let me know and I’ll remove you!) @clydesducktape @wayward-rose @themuseic @miraclesabound @clydesfavoritegirl @a-true-janian-reply @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @mariesackler @princessxkenobi

#of potions an myths #will miller #william miller #will ironhead miller #william ironhead miller #will miller x f!reader #cw: mythical creatures #cw: werewolves #fluff #will miller fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #my writing

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i-got-these-words · 3 years

Text

Short Midnight Drabble ~

[Content warnings: Excessive drinking; dubious consent; victim self-blaming; jealousy; explicit sexual content; explicit language.]

The rhythm in his head had but one name. Tequila.

Guan Shan winced as a shooting pain lanced through him, striking dead centre in the space between his eyes like a rusty nail trying to screw its way through his skull. His heavy and only-somewhat-cooperative tongue rolled around a tart curse that would have had his mom smacking him upside the head and scolding him six ways to Sunday.

Fuck a cheese grater. Where was he?

Prying his eyes open, Guan Shan squinted into the dimly lit room, thankful that someone had had the foresight to draw the vertical blinds closed. The scintillating shimmer of a spring dawn spilt through the narrow gaps, casting the room and its slumbering occupants in hues of cerise and new beginnings.

Guan Shan didn’t recognise them, and he sure as fuck didn’t believe in new beginnings. Or second chances. He was forced to clench his teeth against a wave of nausea when he tried to sit up, his body stiff and protesting. He took a few steadying breaths through his nose as the rusty nail asserted itself once again, burrowing deeper and laying claim to his alcohol-addled brain.

The room was littered with the usual post-party detritus, but in place of ransacked snack bowls, disposable red cups and crushed beer cans, there were half-empty food platters, fully empty champagne bottles and a slew of personalised confetti.

It came him to then—Jian Yi and Zheng Xi’s engagement party.

He instantly regretted coming. Then, just as quickly, felt bad for even thinking it; Jian Yi was the closest thing Guan Shan had to a friend, even if Guan Shan would never admit it. But then he remembered how, in the face of his hesitation, Jian Yi had assured Guan Shan that he wouldn’t be attending. After all, he was halfway across the globe and had already sent his apologies and felicitations in the form of an outrageously luxurious RV disguised as an engagement gift.

Shit.

Guan Shan needed to get out of there.

He took his time levering himself to his feet, swaying a little as the room spun. Gingerly, he lumbered past the handful of dozing guests, most of them more scantily dressed than they had been at the beginning of the party, limbs twisted around a partner—or partners—a piece of upholstered furniture, or a bottle of top-shelf liquor.

The air was thick with the scents of warm, canoodling bodies, an eye-watering floral fragrance someone had drenched themselves in the night before and the lingering traces of eau de fuck mist. Wrinkling his nose, Guan Shan scowled at the thought of partygoers going at it right there in the living room whilst he was passed out drunk on the couch. What happened to having some goddamn decorum?

Meandering out into the hallway in search of his chukka boots, Guan Shan rubbed his temples and wondered if it was too early in the day for the Sunday trains to be running. He considered getting an Uber back to his place, but he was trying to save up—for a wedding gift, a fucking suit because the one he owned was only fit to be worn at funerals, smart shoes that hadn’t been bought at a thrift store, and a round or two of over-priced drinks at the joint bachelor bash Jian Yi was already twittering about.

Fuckin’-A. He’d need to budget more tightly than he already had been, but he consoled himself with the option of selling the suit and shoes second-hand post-wedding and making up for the difference by picking up a few more shifts at the restaurant.

And making do with less than three hours of sleep a night.

Putting his monetary worries to one side, Guan Shan spent the better half of a minute getting tangled in the loose end of a congratulations banner that had come half-undone from the wall. As he passed the kitchen, he caught the time on the microwave’s digital display: five fucking am. The first train wasn’t due til half six.

Mood souring, Guan Shan ran a frustrated hand through his shorn hair, a little stiff and sticky from the product he’d fingered through it last night. His stomach lurched when he noticed the wretched bottle of jalapeño-infused tequila on the breakfast bar and he wondered why he’d thought drinking himself to oblivion would be a good idea. Not only had it been one of his more foolish decisions, it hadn’t even fucking worked.

Guan Shan could remember, clear as day, how his mouth had dried up and his heart had dithered like a fucking damsel in distress when he’d spotted He Tian sauntering through Jian Yi and Zheng Xi’s verdant backyard. With his signature cocksure swagger, He Tian had garnered the attention of many a guest sprawled on rattan garden furniture. Guan Shan had envied them their insouciance as they sipped chilled champagne from sparkling glasses and got their fill of a fabulous ass furnished in dark denim. Guan Shan, on the other hand, had ensconced himself in the kitchen in an attempt to avoid crossing paths with his ex.

That, too, hadn’t fucking worked.

With an hour to kill, Guan Shan found himself in the guest bathroom, splashing his face with arctic-cold water in the hopes that it would chink away at the haze of his hangover. In anticipation of having overnight sojourners, Jian Yi or Zheng Xi—more likely the latter—had stacked a pile of sealed toothbrushes and bottles of mouthwash on the window ledge.

Guan Shan felt marginally human after he’d scrubbed his teeth and freshened up. He chanced a look in the mirrored cabinet above the sink and grimaced. His rose gold hair, which had been a deliberate mess of spikes at the beginning of the night was now nothing short of a grooming disaster. His cheeks were flushed from the cold wash, masking the dusting of freckles on his face that bloomed and waned with the seasons. Normally a blazing liquid copper, his eyes were a dull brass, tarnished by too many shots and not enough winks.

The mouth-watering aroma of morning coffee wafted through from under the bathroom door and Guan Shan hoped whoever was up was brewing it strong. He was downing a couple of Advil he’d filched from the small cabinet when he noticed a bruise peeking out from the collar of his shirt. He leaned closer to the mirror, trying to get a better look.

Motherfucker. It was an honest-to-fuck hickey.

As his already-shit mood took a nosedive, Guan Shan ground his molars, the flush on his cheeks deepening with anger. Who the fuck had put it there? And when? Guan Shan couldn’t remember making out with anyone last night and, given that he was fully clothed sans shoes, the necking session had probably not gone past first base.

Probably.

Had he been so blitzed out that he couldn’t remember letting someone suck a bruise on his person? Fuck.

Fuck!

Guan Shan’s ire took an ugly turn. He shouldn’t have put himself in that fucking position. He should’ve known better. Seeing He Tian had fucked him up and Guan Shan had responded by getting shitfaced.

Eyes stinging, Guan Shan swiped viciously at his face with another palmful of frosty water. Just as he turned to the toilet and unzipped his fly, the bathroom door swung open.

He Tian paused in his stride to blink at Guan Shan. Then proceeded to make his way to the sink.

“Do you fucking mind?” Guan Shan growled, ignoring the way his insides squirmed at the sight of a sleepy-looking He Tian: softly tousled locks, a rumpled silk shirt and black boxer briefs that were so tight his dick was one cough away from indecent exposure.

Opening the cabinet and rummaging through the contents, He Tian mumbled a curt, “Nope.”

Guan Shan knew he was on the verge of snapping, and he let his anger simmer to a boil as He Tian popped the cap off the Advil container and knocked back a few pills. When he was done guzzling a mouthful of water right from the tap, his gelid grey eyes slid to Guan Shan. He Tian lofted a dark brow and the motion shouldn’t have been as sensual as it was.

“It’s not like you haven’t pissed in front of me before,” He Tian mused. “In fact—”

“Finish that sentence and you’ll be shitting out your own teeth for the next year,” Guan Shan snarled.

A smirk ghosted He Tian’s lips and the challenge in his eyes made Guan Shan’s stupid heart stutter like a gin-soaked queen in stilettos. “—I distinctly recall how much it turned you on.”

The illusion that he had any self-control around He Tian shattered as Guan Shan pivoted on his heel and plunged towards the taller man, fists raised and powered up.

But He Tian was ready for him. He’d always been fucking ready for him.

Guan Shan’s knuckles barely grazed the hard-lined jaw it was aiming for as He Tian swiftly dodged to the side. When Guan Shan brought up his left elbow to ram it into He Tian’s obscenely, perfectly straight nose, He Tian ducked like he was made of liquid and not the stacked muscle Guan Shan knew was rolling under that naturally tan skin. He Tian countered with a friendly jab to Guan Shan’s kidney; it wasn’t meant to hurt, and it didn’t. But it did momentarily surprise Guan Shan and He Tian predictably took advantage of his hesitation.

The bathroom cabinet shook as Guan Shan’s back collided with the tiled wall.

He Tian closed in on him, outstretched arms boxing Guan Shan in from either side and leaving He Tian wide open to a counterattack, one that they both knew wouldn’t come.

Guan Shan blamed his sluggish reflexes on the hangover from hell and, this close up, he could see that He Tian hadn’t come away completely unscathed either from a night of liberal drinking and liberal morals.

His eyes were rimmed pink, half-lidded and weary. His weekend stubble was a velvet shadow that would have taken a younger He Tian a week to grow out. His post-party redolence was a mixture of faded cologne, the spicy notes of celebratory fizz, and a familiar musk that reminded Guan Shan of lazy mornings in bed, sun-warmed sheets, and an intimacy that didn’t involve swapping spunk.

Guan Shan’s throat tightened like a vice when he spied the flecks of dark red on He Tian’s crumpled white collar, and the grisly bite mark on the side of his neck that was responsible.

“I’ve barely said two words to you and you’re already trying to break my face,” He Tian drawled in a voice that was as deep as it was dark, and made all the more dangerous by a disarming smile. “What crawled up your ass this fine morning?”

Read the full fic here: Love Bites and Bruises

#19 days #19 days fic #fanfic #fanfiction #drabble #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #love bites and bruises

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mochegato · 4 years

Text

Pixie Spy

Written for the Jasonette July Wayne Gala prompt.

Why?!? Why was she doing this again? Oh right, because John Constantine promised to give her some help with a particularly difficult part of the Grimoire if she did. And he needed the information he was currently obtaining in order to give said help. That is how she ended up with an invitation, still not sure how Constantine pulled that off, to the most exclusive event of the year, the Wayne Gala.

Plus, Adrien was kind of right, ordinarily it would be a great opportunity to showcase her designs. The problem was on its surface, her dress wasn't one of her best works. The black dress had a high, cowl neckline in front and in back, adding a bit of drama and a small homage to the local heroes, vigilantes she silently corrected herself. The high neckline also offset the incredibly short bubble skirt, making her legs look longer than the Nile. Despite being a bit uncomfortable showing that much leg, it was necessary for this particular design and if she could actually feel like she had long legs for once, she was willing to deal with the discomfort. She also added a glittery belt to show her shape and add some bling, which seemed like something the people at this particular event would value. It was functional, not fashionable. Not that it was ugly, just that it was designed to be passable, enough to fit in but not enough to get noticed.

She fidgeted slightly as she stood in the entryway trying to get past the people piling up trying to not so discretely pay homage to the king. That king being Bruce Wayne. From her research, he actually did seem like he was a good guy. The list of charities he started or contributed to was longer than she was tall. She scowled at the voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Adrien's saying that wasn't much. Adrien, who got out of coming tonight because the mission was to observe the Waynes unnoticed and Adrien Agreste would get a bit too much attention, that cat bastard.

Despite the laundry list of charity work, Marinette was still suspicious of Wayne. First of all, he was rich, filthy rich. Anyone that rich had to have some dark and twisted secrets they were hiding. He wouldn’t be the first rich person to hide their illicit activities behind a veil of charity work. Second, he chose to live in Gotham, the most crime-riddled city in the world. And that is just the reported crime. A great deal of the crime never got reported to or investigated by the police, whether through corruption or exhaustion. The kind of place a rich person could be confident they would get away with literal murder.

But mostly, it was Constantine that made her suspicious of Bruce Wayne. Not that Constantine had ever said anything negative about him, well nothing more than calling him a pain in the ass, but that was really not so much an insult as a compliment coming from Constantine. But, Wayne had information Constantine needed to help them with the Grimoire and Constantine refused to say how Wayne had gotten that information. How and why would a playboy billionaire have that information? There is absolutely no reason someone outside of the hero/villain/magic community would have that information. And, if he was such a good guy, why would Constantine need to go to these lengths to get it without Wayne’s knowledge? Unless it was related to one of his illicit secrets.

Her eyes darted around the room taking in its grandeur, muttering to herself about how ostentatious it all was. Normally, she would be completely mesmerized by the grandeur and pomp of the scene. The room was decorated to perfection. Everything was absolutely exquisite. However, she was too anxious and wary to enjoy it. So instead of being inspired, each gorgeous detail grated on her. She reached up to tug on her hair before remembering her hair had been pulled up into an elegant twist held in place with a single silver pin. With her normal anxiety relief method unavailable, she instead shifted nervously from foot to foot while she scanned the room trying to catch sight of the rest of the Waynes, gently tightening and loosening her grip on her purse, trying not to crush Tikki.

She was so lost in her anxiety she didn't notice the dark haired man walking behind her take notice of her and stop. He stood behind her with a nonchalance that didn’t seem to fit a man his size. He watched her fidget and muttering to herself about “damn rich people” with a smile on his face.

“You don't seem excited to be here” he said quietly.

She turned around with wide eyes, shocked that someone had heard her. Whatever she was expecting to see it was not what she saw in front of her. The man towered over her. Even in her ridiculously, dangerously high heels, Chloe insisted, her head didn’t even come up to his chin. He was also extremely handsome, with chiseled features and the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen. Those eyes were going to be a problem. They were clear and kind and roguish and hypnotizing. His black hair with a shock of white was slightly tousled giving the impression of a rouge trying to look sophisticated. Was it inappropriate to imagine running her hand through his hair and along his sharp jawline? Yeah, probably not appropriate and likely not welcome. Clean up your thoughts, girl! Great, now Alya was in her head scolding her. No, that’s not right, because that would definitely not be Alya’s advice.

He was grinning at her with an impish look in his eyes. “What? Not impressed with the ‘we care about whatever the point of this gala is, but we’re not hobos so let’s not skimp on the luxury for us’ décor? Or maybe it is the illustrious, soul sucking, benefactors of Gotham that have set you on edge.” The smile he shot her was guarded and critical. She chuckled lightly and looked away. “You have good judgement and a good reason to be suspicious. But you made it to The event of the season, so you must have done something right… or wrong.”

She hummed and looked away. “Have you ever had one of those days where everything went wrong and now you don't know how you got where you are or why you are there?”

“I’m familiar with the feeling,” he nodded.

“That's my life. All of it. Every single fucking day. This one included."

He barked out a laugh and looked at her again appraising her. “Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine. I think I like you. You might just make this torture session more bearable. See you around,” he chuckled as he walked away.

Marinette watched the man’s retreating back. The night was already going better than she thought it would. But the plan for the night wasn’t to find a date it was to act as a scout and keep tabs on the… enemy? For all intents and purposes, that is what the Waynes were tonight, right? They had information that she needed, that Paris needed, and they apparently weren’t going to part with it willingly, so they were the enemy. No, enemy sounded too harsh she chided herself. Opposition? Yes, they were the opposition. That sounded much less hostile, more like a game… a game where people’s lives were on the line. You know, just for fun, no pressure.

She found a spot against a wall she could use. It was slightly raised but not well lit so it wouldn’t draw attention to her. From her spot she could finally see the family. It was very thoughtful of them to group together like that. She could see the little one, stiff and military-like posture, glowering at the people around him. He was standing as far away from the rest of the people there as he could without actually leaving the room. Much closer to the dancefloor, she could see the middle boy talking to a few business men. They all had fake smiles plastered on their faces as they made seemingly insignificant small talk. She did not envy him that experience. Between the two and to the side was the oldest son. He was chatting up some business person’s daughter, leaning in a lot closer than etiquette would dictate. Just the father then… there he was still not too far from the door talking to a dark haired woman. He had his arm around her waist as she leaned into him. She must be the girlfriend then. Mari made a note that she should probably pay attention to where she was as well. Fortunately, the spot she had chosen gave her a great vantage point. Unfortunately, her observation spot wasn’t as unnoticed as she had hoped.

___________________________________________________________

Jason made his way over to the bar and ordered a beer. He still hadn’t spoken to his family to let them know he was there and he definitely needed a drink before he approached them. Why the fuck was he here again? Fucking Batman.

Fresh glass of beer in hand, he made his way over to his brothers, refusing to acknowledge any of the partygoers along the way. He watched as his brothers took note of his approach and excused themselves from their conversation partners. Dick didn’t look too happy to turn away from the latest interest, smiling at her and giving her reassurances before sending her away. Tim looked less happy to have to turn away from the men he was talking with. He should be thanking Jason really. He was giving him an out from having to deal with them and their god awful personalities and fashion. Seriously, who told that guy that tie was okay. Even the Riddler would think that tie was obnoxious.

“Okay, I’m here,” Jason said taking a large swig of his drink. “How long before I can ditch this bottomless pit of misery?”

“Woah, slow down there. You’re going to get drunk before the announcement.” Dick cautioned him.

“Do you want me here or do you want me sober? You’re going to have to choose one. They’re mutually exclusive, Dickweed.”

“Come on Jaybird, we all have to be here. None of the rest of us are getting drunk.”

“That’s just because I’m smarter than you guys are,” he said tipping his glass to Tim who had scoffed at the suggestion and took another drink. “There is no reason we all have to be here. We shouldn’t all have to suffer. And officially, I’m not even a member of this hellscape of a family anymore so I really shouldn’t have to be here.”

“If The Disappointment gets to leave, so do I. Someone should be patrolling tonight instead of all of us wasting our time entertaining these harpies. And if one more person tries to touch me on my head I’m going to break a hand.”

“Stop it! Nobody is leaving, Damian. We’re in this together. And Jason, if anyone got to go home it wouldn’t be you. You are the reason we all have to be here in the first place; so we can ALL show our support when we officially announce that you are part of this ‘hellscape of a family’ again. So enjoy it,” he said with a cutting smile.

“Not everyone enjoys getting groped by the gold-digging, trust fund whores. I’ve found a way to cope. It’s called alcohol. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he downed the drink in his hand, “my drink is empty. I’m going to go find another.”

“At least try not to interact with anyone. We don’t want to piss anyone off tonight. And I don’t want to have to fix your messes.”

“Way ahead of you, Replacement.” Jason turned and walked away before Dick could reprimand him again. He needed to get away. He could only handle his family in small does, very small doses, miniscule amounts, and he had already surpassed that limit.

He grabbed two more drinks off of a passing waiter’s tray and looked for the Sunshine Girl. He scanned the room sipping the champagne, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in the room. His size and demeanor was usually enough to keep people away but making eye contact made people think he was open to talking. He was not. He had no interest in making nice with Gotham’s elite. He wanted to get this night over with, with as little pain as possible.

He finally spotted her off to the side of the room speaking with the obnoxious tie guy. Jason watched as the man slid his hand up the side of her leg starting to move under her skirt. Jason started to make his way over to them until he saw her move closer to the man. She was close enough to whisper seductively into his ear now. Ah, not uninvited then. Maybe he had misread her. Well there goes his hope of this party not sucking balls. He started to turn away but noticed a pained expression on the man’s face. He turned back to reexamine the scene. She was holding the man’s hand at an unnatural angle. It was a hold he’d used a few times himself, it was discrete but extremely effective, causing intense pain with a small movement. He knew if she moved her hand just a few more centimeters, she could easily break his wrist.

She let go with a viscous look pushing him away from her as she did. The man shook his hand and scowled at her. He started back toward her and Jason took off running, not pausing to apologize to the people he bumped into along the way. Before he could get to her, she had already taken care of it. She squared her shoulders and glared at the man, making it clear that she could and would continue with her actions if he persisted. When she moved her hand ever so slightly, just enough so he could see it and remember what she had done, the man turned away and smiled at the people who had been standing behind him as though nothing had happened. Jason chuckled to himself watching her move away from the man. She was definitely going to make this night more bearable.

“Looks like you don’t need me around for protection. Although I did bring a drink so maybe I can earn my keep that way,” he said handing her one of the glasses in his hand. “That was extremely impressive. How did you lean to handle yourself like that?”

She accepted the glass and shrugged. “You live in Paris long enough you pick up a few things.”

“That isn’t something you just ‘pick up’. That’s experience.”

“And that is exactly what you get when you have a supervillain terrorizing your streets and thoughts for 5 years; experience. And how do you know about that move? Rich boy secretly a vigilante?” She raised an eyebrow at him giving him a daring smile and pretending to take a drink from the glass. She was on a mission and she didn’t know him. She wasn’t about to actually drink anything a stranger gave her, let alone get drunk.

“You don’t grow up in Gotham without learning how to take down someone trying to cop a feel. And what do you mean about a supervillain in Paris?” he asked taking a step closer to her, concern edging into his stare.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not relevant for tonight.” She said taking a step away and scanning the room again to locate the Waynes.

He looked at her for a few moments taking her in, not just her appearance but how she held herself. She stood with confidence and nonchalance. She wasn’t acting coy, she wasn’t baiting him to ask her more questions, she was serious. There was some kind of supervillain running around Paris that they had no idea about. Well that piqued his interest. He wanted to find out more about that and just his luck, the only person around who knew about it was the gorgeous and badass Sunshine Child in front of him. Guess he’ll just have to suffer and spend more time talking to her. The things he does for Gotham, he smirked to himself. “I’m Jason,” he said putting his hand out for her to shake.

She looked at his hand before hesitantly taking it. His hand absolutely engulfed hers. “Nice to meet you Jason,” she said looking toward the dancefloor. She had last seen the Waynes near the dancefloor and they couldn’t have gotten far, right? They were likely to be near it.

Misinterpreting her focus he asked, “Wanna dance?” placing down his now empty glass.

She needed a better vantage point to locate the Waynes and even if they weren’t on the dancefloor anymore, the dancefloor would be the ideal place get an unobstructed, overall view of the room. She could see the entire room from the dancefloor. She just had to scope it out discretely so Jason didn’t get suspicious. “Sure,” she said smiling at him and accepting the hand he had offered her.

He guided her out onto the dancefloor. Jason noticed a little girl standing nervously next to the dancefloor looking at a group of kids nearby. “Hold on just a second,” he said dropping her hand to kneel down next to the little girl. “Hey, I just wanted to say what a beautiful dress you have. I wish you had a smile to match. Anything wrong, kid?” he asked gently. The little girl gave him a nervous smile.

“Thanks. My Mom said I could pick out a dress and I chose this one. But Mom says it looks silly. It’s too fluffy and gets in everyone’s way.”

At that Marinette kneeled down next to her as well. “Oh. Well, let me fill you in on a little secret. I’m a fashion designer and I can tell you there is nothing wrong with fluffy. You did a great job picking it out. It is perfect for you. I couldn’t design anything better. I wish I looked as confident and effortlessly beautiful as you do. ”

The smile the little girl gave her was genuine this time. “You really like it?”

“I do,” Marinette responded.

“I do, too. I’m not a fashion designer, but I still think you look good, kid. And if anyone tells you they don’t like it, scr… I mean, forget them. Who cares what they think. A fashion designer and a delinquent think it looks amazing. Don’t let someone else tell you what you like.” Jason added. The little girl beamed at both of them and bounded off to join the kids with much more confidence.

Marinette watched him as he watched the kid play with her friends making raucous noise as they played, a grin on his face until he saw some parents come to reprimand their kids for being so noisy. So, rich boy has a heart and is really protective of kids. Well that wasn’t going to help Marinette focus solely on the mission. “That was incredibly nice of you. That’s not advice I would have expected from someone attending a party like this.” Marinette said taking Jason’s outstretched hand again.

“Just because we’re miserable here doesn’t mean she should be, too. Kids should be happy. It’s ridiculous to bring a kid to a party if you aren’t going to let them be a kid. Adults in Gotham expect too much of their kids. They treat them like props instead of kids, tools to help them achieve a goal.” He said voice getting gruff as he spoke. He looked back at her and shook his head as if to clear his head of his thoughts. He smiled at her instead and took her waist with his free hand to start dancing with her.

“You know, I noticed you never did give me your name.”

She looked into his eyes for a just a moment before she looked back to the dancefloor, “You know, I noticed that too.”

“Hmmm. Secretive. No name but a fashion designer from Paris,” he said. Marinette paled slightly refusing to look back at him. He was paying attention to her and noticing details. She hadn’t expected that from this crowd. She was going to have to be more careful about what she said. ‘Not get noticed’ played over and over in her head. She was supposed to slip in and out with nobody remembering her. She might have blown the mission already. But, was she ready to walk away from those blue eyes? Surely, talking with him couldn’t do any harm, right? “So, did you design the dress you’re wearing?”

She was brought back to reality with a jolt. “Yes. Not… not my best work, but it fit the uh, occasion,” she stuttered out.

“Was the occasion to look stunning? Because you do.” He grinned smugly as she blushed heavily under his praise. This was fun. This was his new mission for the night; to see how many times he could make her blush. “Still not going to tell me your name, huh?”

She looked back at him before dropping her eyes again. Stupid mission. If it were just her here for herself, she could stay here dancing with Jason and gazing into his eyes for the rest of the night, and tomorrow, and the day after for that matter. But she wasn’t here for herself. She was here for a reason and that reason demanded she be anonymous and keep track of the Waynes.

She scanned the floor again and finally spotted the Waynes, confirming they were all there. Nobody had snuck off. They really liked sticking around each other didn’t they?

“No, it takes more than a pretty line from a pretty boy to get my name” she said looking back to Jason and plastering on a fake smile. “I don’t need any rich boys remembering me after this is over. Tomorrow I’ll go back to my real life and it will be like none of this ever happened. I can report that I came, I danced, and I even smiled a few times, then never speak of it again.”

“Friends or family forced you to come because they thought you needed some excitement in your life, Pixie Pop?”

“Something like that… Pixie Pop?”

“You won’t tell me your name and I need to call you something. You’re little and mischievous and can handle yourself… Pixie Pop. Honestly, you’re lucky I didn’t go with Odysseus. Also, you think I’m pretty?” He grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, cheeks flushing slightly. “I think that would have made you Polyphemus, which you certainly have the size for,” she grinned up at him. “Anyway, that’s why I’m here. How about you?”

“Oh, my family thinks I have enough fun already. I’m here because if they have to suffer, so do I. And all to bolster the name of the illustrious Bruce Wayne.”

Marinette examined his face as he stared toward where she last seen Bruce Wayne. He looked annoyed and frustrated. This was a side of Mr. Wayne she had not heard about in her research, a side that frustrated native Gothamites. A bit more information could be helpful for her to figure out what role he played in the Grimoire information Constantine was gathering, figure out whether or not he was a threat. “Not a fan?” she asked delicately.

He looked back at her examining her face for any malice. “Depends on the day.”

She hummed in response. “What can you tell me about Bruce Wayne?” she finally asked.

“Why do you want to know?” he responded suspiciously. Most people looking for more information wanted it as a weapon. Bruce might not be his favorite person, he might actually hate him right now, but he wasn’t going to help someone take him down unless it was him.

She shrugged, “everything I’ve seen shows an exemplary record for him. You don’t seem to be a fan though and you’ve grown up in Gotham so you would have some good insights. So, I’m wondering what your take on him is. What he’s done to draw your ire.”

Jason nodded slightly seeming to mull over what she said. “He does good things. He helps a lot of charities. He honestly does care about the city and the people and about making their lives better. His parenting skills could use some work though. He could show his sons that he actually cares about them as more than tools, you know, whether they live or died…” he furrowed his brows and looked away for a few seconds before he schooled his expression. His eyes got a wicked gleam to them and he leaned towards her to whisper conspiratorially “… and I hear he’s sleeping with Batman.”

Mari looks at him surprised. “Huh, I guess he has a type then, supermodels, superheroes…”

“Supervillains…” Jason says under her breath looking back at Bruce and his date.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he covered quickly, but the damage had already been done. She had started thinking about Bruce’s involvement with the super community. If he was sleeping with superheroes and super villains, that meant he was part of the same circles as Constantine… and Constantine liked dating in the super community. Could Bruce Wayne be in the super community? That would explain why he had information pertaining to the Grimoire. And she might need to revisit exactly how Constantine knew Bruce Wayne.

“Are you okay? I didn’t break you, did I?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah, fine I could just maybe use some uh, water?” she gave an awkward smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please?” She just needed a bit of space to think.

Jason left to grab a glass of water and turned back to her. She watched Bruce with her head crooked to the side. He saw her finger discretely swiping to the right a few times as she stared intently at Bruce. After a few times her finger swiped left instead and head straightened. She looked around to the other members of the family as if she was counting, confirming something in her head.

Marinette’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized why Bruce Wayne could have information they needed and why Constantine needed her to keep an eye on the Waynes. Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. She turned away quickly. This could not be happening. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening. She did NOT help him break into the BATCAVE while she kept tabs on BATMAN.

And if Constantine was trying desperately to avoid him, like he did all his exes…That little…

Jason had no idea what happened but as he got closer to his Pixie he could hear her muttering under her breath in French. His French was a bit rusty so even the pieces he could pick up were scarce and nonsensical. Something about maybe “lying” and “Roast Beef” and “bat” and “shark” and “fucking”. He couldn’t be positive about any of the words except two; “fucking” and “bat” those he was pretty familiar with. Not to brag but he could swear like a sailor in at least 7 languages. And “bat”, he knew that word in a few more languages for obvious reasons.

She was abruptly moving and ran right into him before she could take notice of her surroundings. She looked at Jason with wide eyes, reexamining the man she had spent the evening speaking and dancing with. Suddenly, everything clicking into place. There was one more hero she hadn’t accounted for, Red Hood, who while he hid his face behind a mask, just so happened to have the same towering build as Jason. But Bruce Wayne didn’t have any more kids, right? And if the other vigilantes were his sons, Red Hood should be too, right? He just had the three boys and the two girls who were out of town. That was it. He had another son, but that son had died. What was his name… She gasped loudly, “Oh God! You’re Jason,” she exclaimed out loud.

“Yeah?” He said confused. They’d been over this before.

“You’re Jason Todd,” she said looking down and taking slow breaths. “You’re Bruce Wayne’s son.”

He looked at her startled. She put that together quicker than he was expecting especially since she didn’t seem to know much about the family. “For what it’s worth, I don’t feel like his son most of the time,” he tried to joke. “Sorry for not telling you before. I don’t like talking about being in the family, or being in the family at all, actually.” He winced looking at her wide eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to get noticed by the Waynes. Shit!”

“Then you shouldn’t have worn that dress… or that face… or that smile, Pixie.” He said grinning suavely.

She examined him for a few seconds, emotions flittering across her face almost too quickly to identify them. Confusion, bashful, flattered, hopeful, guilt, pain, melancholy.

“I have to go.” She finally spoke up.

“Wait. What?”

“I… I have to go”

“Wait, is it… you have to go because I’m Wayne’s son?”

“No, I… shit. Putain de bâtard.” Yep, that one he understood too. Wait... “Me?” He asked pointing to himself.

“No, not you… Not because you’re a Wayne, well kind of because you’re a Wayne. It’s…” she faltered for a few seconds then muttered under her breath again “Je vais tuer cette putain de mère.”

“Wait, who is the mother fucker you’re talking about? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just going to kill a bitch when I get home.”

“Okay… Okay, first, that is a lot more swearing than I thought you were capable of and I’m extremely impressed… and turned on,” he chuckled as she rolled her eyes at him and mumbled under her breath “you should have heard what was going on in my head”. He raised his eyebrows at her suggestion. “Okay, you’re making it really hard not to make out with you right now.” He watched proudly as her cheeks suddenly blazed red at his comment. Another point for him tonight.

“Second, if you’re just worried about Bruce finding out you were here, it never happened. I never saw you. You were never here,” he assured her. Instead of calming her she seemed more panicked, eyes darting from the door to him. This seemed like more than just not wanting to get noticed. She was into something and didn’t want to be. “Or, if you’re in trouble, I can help. You just need to tell me what is going on. You don’t seem like you would willingly work with someone out to hurt others, so whatever it is, I’m sure you aren’t willingly doing it. If it is something bad. I just really have no idea what is going on right now and I would like you to tell me.” He continued earnestly, looking her in her eyes to make sure she understood how deathly serious he was about it. If she needed help, he WOULD help her. Even if he didn’t like her, which he really did, he was going to help put that smile back on her face.

She looked at him for another few moments opening her mouth slightly to say something then seemed to think better of it and closed it again. She narrowed her eyes and looked away scanning the room as she thought about what to say and do next. She seemed to come to a conclusion as she turned back to him and set her feet firmly on the ground.

“I never told you why I was here, did I?” Even before he shook his head she continued. “I’m here to keep an eye on the Waynes. On you, apparently. Didn’t know you were back from the dead though, so I wasn’t looking out for you. Congratulations on that, by the way, you know, on the whole not being dead thing. That’s really amazing. I’m glad you can be around to enjoy life and laugh and be sarcastic and look at me with those eyes and look like that in a suit… probably even better out of it.” She muttered the last part under her breath.

“I’d love to see you out of that dress, too.” He smiled smugly at her.

She huffed out a breath, cheeks reddening again, “Yeah, not happening. I’m burning this dress as soon as I get out of here.”

“I can help you with that, too. I like setting fires. Two birds, one pyrotechnic.” He preened for a moment enjoying the flirting. Wait, less flirting, more focusing back on the more important part of her earlier speech.

“Wait, why are you keeping an eye on us?” he asked apprehensively.

“So I could warn my… associate if any of you left. So he could have plenty of time to… what is the best way to say this…” she looked up to the ceiling and took a deep steadying breath thinking about the words she wanted to use. None of this was part of the plan. “…so he could have plenty of time to evacuate your… lair? No, lair makes you sound like villains… your illicit… cavern of, actually I don’t know if it is a cavern… and it isn’t really illicit, is it? Well, actually I guess it kind of is, but that still makes it sound like you’re a villain…your underground… no, I don’t even know if it is underground… to evacuate your… uh… secret… base of… um, operations?”

“My what?” Jason demanded now more than a little concerned. “Who are you?”

“Nobody. Absolutely nobody of consequence. And nobody who should be here right now.” She turned to walk away before Jason stopped her.

“No. You don’t get to say something like that then try to slink away like nothing happened. Come on, we’re going to go talk to some people,” he said grabbing her arm a bit harder than strictly necessary and dragging her towards his brothers and Bruce. She definitely figured out who they all were or at least who Bruce was and that they knew too, which put her in danger, and she was working with someone to break into the Batcave, which put them all in danger. Everything about this situation was dangerous and bad and they needed to talk to the family to figure out the best next steps.

Marinette dug her heels into the ground pulling against him, a really bad idea considering how high her heels were. Instead of stopping him she stumbled into his chest allowing him the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said squirming to get out of his embrace. “This is between you guys. I have neither the desire nor the interest to get involved in this little lover’s spat. I have more important things to be doing right now. Things that asshole was supposed to be doing instead of pulling practical jokes.”

“Jokes? What do you mean jokes? What the fuck is going on?” He looked at her again. She wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t gloating, she wasn’t even nervous. She was annoyed verging on enraged.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Red.” She threw in the moniker at him to get him to back down. She knew how important secret identities were, and how finding out someone knew yours could throw you off your game. She felt a bit of guilt as she used that knowledge against him but this was no longer fun. Now this was infuriating. John was playing games with his former lover, or current lover, whatever Bruce was to him, instead of just helping. He was taking time she didn’t want to spend, time the people of Paris should not have to wait. They had spent weeks planning this when he could have just walked in and asked for the information. They had wasted so much time.

“I. Do. Not. Have. Time. For. This. This is not a joke. This is not some gag for you overgrown children to play at,” she said hitting her finger into his chest with each word. “I have people in need relying on me. I have children counting on me. Parents counting on me. Single people, who also deserve to live just as much as everyone else, counting on me and all suffering while they wait. I. Am. Done. And I am leaving”

Jason listened to her shocked. Something was happening and he had absolutely no idea what, but somehow they were involved. He hated not knowing what was going on. Apparently children were suffering because of all of this and he didn’t know why. But, he was going to figure it out. She was right. They did not have time for this. Whatever was going on, they were going to help. He turned away loosening his grip on her waist to just laying his arm on her instead of encircling her. He touched his hand to his ear to activate the com hidden inside, “Tim, can you check the security video for the uh… our base of operations?”

It appeared that Tim was giving Jason some resistance because Jason turned away even further and started yell whispering threats into the air. He was trying to be as discrete as possible in the crowded room, which normally wouldn’t be such a concern but there was a group of dancers headed their way, just leaving the dance floor after the song ended. Marinette took advantage of his distraction and the sudden cover to twist away from him and slip into the crowd.

Jason called after her and tried to grasp her arm but missed her. He searched for her but the crowd was too thick, having had to bottleneck to get past the tables surrounding the dance floor. He scanned the crowd for her twisted hair or the black dress, but couldn’t see her in the group. She had effectively disappeared, but if she went into the crowd, she would have to come out and cross the dancefloor in order to leave. He could just wait for her on the other side of the group and keep an eye on the dancefloor. He moved to go around the table, but that side was just as crowded so he did the only rational, discrete thing he could in the situation, he slid across the top of the table landing on the dancefloor and waited to grab her there, but she never came out.

_____________________________________________________________

Marinette had a habit of catastrophizing. She knew this. Everyone who knew her knew this. She thought of all of the worst case scenarios and tried to plan for them. Generally, it was a wasted effort that did little more than stress her out and annoy her teammates. Today, however, today it paid off. She had anticipated having to make a quick escape and once she decided it was time to go, she put her escape plan into action. Freeing herself from Jason, she pulled off her belt before even getting to the crowd. As she entered the crowd of people, she pulled out her hair pin, letting her hair fall down. She didn’t even have to hunch down much at all to disappear into the crowd as she weaved her way through them. One advantage to being short. She ran her left hand through her hair tousling it so her long raven hair cascaded around her shoulders. With her right hand, she yanked at the cowl neckline of her dress, allowing the fabric overlay to drop forming a floor length skirt, revealing the bodice of her now red Harlow inspired dress that had been hidden underneath. Her new dress hugged her body until it reached her hips then fell freely.

Finally, she reached into her red purse, removed her phone, the cookie for Tikki, and Kaalki’s glasses, nodded to Tikki, turned her purse inside out revealing a now black purse with red detailing, and returned her phone, glasses, cookie, hairpin, and belt into it, leaving plenty of room for Tikki. The entire change took all of 10 seconds. By the time she would walk out of the crowd, she would be completely unrecognizable, at least by anyone who didn’t already know her. Unless that is, if they were looking for someone moving against the tide of people. That would be a dead giveaway. So instead, she pivoted and moved with the crowd instead of against it, parting with them after a few tables and moving laterally toward the exit.

Marinette made her way to the exit quickly, but not quickly enough to draw attention to herself. She needed to get to Constantine before the “bat family”, as her research had called them, got to him. They had reasons for keeping other superheroes out of Paris and she had no interest in having that particular awkward and slightly guilt laden (stupid gorgeous blue eyes she wanted to get lost in) conversation with them. Especially when she was this utterly livid with Constantine, which was another reason she was rushing. She needed to get to him so she could beat the asshole out of him. Oh, she was going to make him pay for this, and not in a way he would enjoy.

She was angry and frustrated and guilty and grieved. She knew Jason didn’t deserve for her to snap at him like she had but she had been too frustrated to hold back and he was part of the problem. She had been having fun with Jason. She had been enjoying bantering with him and looking into his eyes. She had really, really been enjoying having him look at her like she was the most interesting thing in Gotham and having him hold her closer than he had to while they danced. And now it was gone. She was a hero and he was a vigilante so he had to be kept at a distance. A 3,670 mile distance to be precise, well approximate.

She was just about to cross through the exit when a voice stopped her.

“Hey,” a woman with short black hair and green eyes called out to her. Marinette slowed down weighing the risk of just blowing her off vs the risk of stopping. She decided ignoring her might lead to the woman calling after her, which would bring unwanted attention, which she wanted to avoid. Stopping seemed the safer answer. As long as she didn’t look back at the gala or do anything else that might incriminate herself, she would be able to get away without any awkward conversations or fights.

“Yes” she answered with a strained smile.

“I saw that little quick change back there,” the woman responded. Marinette’s eyes widened in panic. Before anxiety could start going over all the worst case scenarios her mind could come up with, she was already in the midst of one of them in real life she really didn’t need to start thinking of worse things to add to it, the woman continued, nonchalantly scanning the people at the gala, “don’t worry, I’m not going to out you. I just might have occasion to use a quick change myself from time to time, so I was hoping you might share where you got your dress.” She shot Marinette a wicked smile. ”Just because you’re hustling doesn’t mean you can’t look killer doing it.”

Marinette relaxed minutely and gave her a small smile, “it’s called MDC Designs. She’s online. What’s your name so she’ll know who to look out for?”

“Thanks kitten. I appreciate it.” She said never looking back at Marinette. “Selina. Selina Kyle. I’d say nice to meet you, but we never met, did we?”

Marinette smiled to herself as she walked out the door. Maybe the night wasn’t a total loss. Hopefully, Constantine got the information they needed, she’ll get to punch his smug face as soon as she sees him, and she’ll get a new client. Guess Adrien was right about showcasing her design after all. He must never know. Not such a bad night at all.

Chapter 2

Tag:

@fsketchart @jasonette-july-2k20

#maribat #jasonette #jasonette july 2k20 #Pixie Spy

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south-park-meta · 3 years

Note

Bunny w/ Mamihlapinatapei if you like that, otherwise Style?

I don't like Bunny tbh but it's fine, there aren't many pairings I hate too much to try writing! (I included Style too though because I'm a simple person).

Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

"I know now that you won't remember, the next time you see it. I just need you to believe me, before we...start anything."

"I believe you," Butters says immediately. He considers, then says, "Y'know, I think we all die a little. It's the comin' back that matters."

Kenny's always been good at reading people. Stan's good at it, too. It's one of the defense mechanisms that they've picked up together but separately. Kenny learned it as part of conflict resolution; it's important to read the mood at home, to decide if he and his siblings should leave the room or if it'd be better to just flick on the TV. If he had to guess, he'd say that Stan got good at reading people at home, too. Neither Stan nor Shelly have ever been hit by their parents-- Kenny doesn't think they were spanked as kids, never mind gotten in a fist fight the way Kevin did sometimes with his dad. But violence isn't the only thing that does it. Stan knows if someone's safe to drive with or if they're going to weave between lanes. He knows the exact way to play babysitter to draw someone back from a nutty scheme. He knows how to mold himself to seem like less trouble to make things easier, when it matters.

Their experiences are different but the same, when it comes to picking up those little hints of a person. The cues that most people don't have reason to learn.

Kenny notices the shift, when Stan and Kyle fall in love with each other. He's always figured they'd end up together, once they figured their own shit out. Over junior year the way they look at each other changes-- not overnight, but not slowly, either, like it's shifting with the seasons. He actually thinks they're together when Stan starts talking about prom.

Except then Stan asks if he wants to skip it to play video games.

Kenny furrows his brows. "Is this a 'Poor Kenny' thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Kenny says. Then he stops for a moment to consider which way to take it. His guess is that Stan's feeling sorry for him, because prom's kind of expensive if you do it right. Even doing it a little wrong is more expensive than what Kenny has. It's a hard thing to traverse, though, because if he's honest he likes it when his friends recognize the difference in what they all have to spend. The pop he's drinking is one Stan bought him. But there's a difference in wanting to tag along to McDonald's and maybe, every now and then, letting his friends order a happy meal for him, and wanting his friends to skip out on milestone moments just to play video games. "How come you and Kyle aren't going together?"

"We could," Stan agrees, holding his bottle of Fanta by the neck and spinning it in a lazy circle. Kenny knows he gets the glass ones instead of plastic because it makes him think of beer bottles. It's hard to tell if that scratches an itch or tickles at it. "But we'd just be hanging around, anyway. Same shit, different place."

"Or you could, you know, dance?"

Stan stops spinning his bottle. "With Kyle?" he asks.

He sounds so baffled that Kenny's actually almost surprised they don't need an extra step of 'With who?'

Which makes Kenny baffled, too. "Why not with Kyle?"

"Because we're not dating?"

"Is that a question?" Kenny asks. And before Stan can answer he says, "I thought you were. Finally." It seems like something they'd forget to tell him just because they've been half-dating for so long.He still can't stop himself from making snide comments when they box him out now and again, but when it comes to this--he hadn't even been offended, thinking they'd forgotten.

"Well. We're not."

"So ask him."

"Why would I do that?"

"Why the fuck wouldn't you do that?" Kenny demands. "I love you, Stan, but you're really stupid sometimes."

"Hey," Stan says, but he doesn't sound very offended.

"I know you love him."

"Okay," Stan says, "I love him."

Kenny waits a beat, but Stan doesn't keep going, which is a little maddening. "And he loves you."

"Not like that."

"Yes like that."

Kenny can tell he's not telling Stan anything he doesn't already know, the way he frowns and looks away.

"Why don't you ask Butters, then?" Stan snaps, peevish, looking at his feet. "If you're so smart. He'd go with you."

"Because," Kenny says.

Stan huffs through his nose and opens his eyes a little wider in a way that says, See? And man, maybe Kenny's a hypocrite, but Stan is a smug hypocrite, which is definitely more annoying.

"Fuck you," Kenny says.

"Fuck you, too," Stan says. They sit in silence for a moment and Stan takes another drink of Fanta. Another moment of silence and he says, "You should ask him, though, for real."

Maybe Kenny should, for real. Stan still doesn't like Butters much after all these years--Butters doesn't like Stan much, either-- so Kenny knows it's nothing Stan would suggest if he didn't think it was something that would make Kenny happier. "If I do, you have to talk to Kyle."

"Sure thing, Ken," Stan says. He's still got smug in his tone, like he's agreeing because he knows this is a bet he won't lose.

And it's still kind of annoying, mostly for the 'Ken' that Stan rarely uses except to be condescending, but only for about half a second. Stan can get up his own ass sometimes around Kenny for the same reason Kenny knows he can be petty, bitchy, around Stan. Kenny knows he can't claim a spot at the Super Best Friends table, but they've been regular best friends since they were three. They know each other's entire humanities, even the ugly bits. It's good sometimes, to have a place for the ugly.

They shoot the shit a while longer and then part ways. Stan takes both their empty bottles to recycle them.

Kenny goes over to Butters' house afterwards. He tells himself it's for Stan and Kyle's sake, or at least to force Stan to admit he doesn't have the guts, but he knows well enough he's using them as an excuse. He knocks on the door and waits.

"Kenny!" Butters greets him, bright-eyed. It's really hard to take someone looking at him like that. Like he's the only good thing in all of South Park.

"Hi," Kenny says. "Can I come in?"

"I'll come out," Butters says. "Your shoes are kinda muddy. Y'know my parents would throw a fit."

Kenny doesn't look down at his shoes. It's true, and he doesn't really mind Butters saying so. Even if he does think he could wipe his shoes clean enough.

They take a walk down to Stark's pond. Butters takes his hand halfway there. Kenny slows his pace to make sure it lasts a little longer just in case Butters wants to skip rocks. He doesn't let go, though, once they get there. They sit there holding hands and looking at the water.

"I need to tell you something. Then I need to ask you something," Kenny tells the water.

"Mm, all right," Butters says. His tone stays pitched up, chipper, but Kenny can hear the anxiety stretched underneath, like a safety net waiting to catch someone's fall. "Shoot."

"Well," Kenny says, deciding to back track a bit, because he doesn't like that anxiety. There are too many kids in South Park that have it sitting dormant under their voices, and he likes it least of all on Butters. "I want to ask you to prom. But I need to tell you something first."

The tension slides out at that and Butters smiles wide. "You're doing it all backwards, then, ain't'cha?"

"I do a lot of things backwards," Kenny says, "But you'll go with me? If I ask."

"Sure, I will!"

That doesn't surprise him, for the same reason he knows Stan won't be surprised if he asks Kyle-- or Kyle, if he asks Stan. "I need to tell you," Kenny starts again, "That I die a lot."

Butters tips his head. He looks at Kenny, eyes asking him to continue.

"I know it sounds crazy," Kenny says, "But you've seen me die. You've all seen me die. I used to die every day. And then I came back, and you'd all forget." He pauses as he stares at the lake. There are concessions he's learned he has to make, since the frustrated years of his childhood spent killing himself over and over again, intentionally and not. "I know now that you won't remember, the next time you see it. I just need you to believe me, before we...start anything."

"I believe you," Butters says immediately. He considers, then says, "Y'know, I think we all die a little. It's the comin' back that matters."

"Yeah?" Kenny knows Butters doesn't mean the physical, the way he does, but he also knows that Butters knows he does mean the physical.

"Yeah. I feel it, when part of me dies. Why, there's been times-- there's been times I figure enough of it's gone and died, that I ought to just end it all!" He's not just talking about Reality, and Kenny knows that, too. He's talking about the bits and pieces that have been killed by his parents, by the other students, by South Park as a whole. "But you come back to life. And if you work real hard at it, you come back stronger than before. It gets better...You said it doesn't happen every day anymore, didn't'cha?"

Kenny nods his head. He's a little surprised, that Butters had caught that with his saying it 'used to' be every day.

"Well, maybe someday it won't be happening at all, anymore. Maybe you're coming back stronger and stronger and it won't keep getting you. Not until it's supposed to."

"I'd like that," Kenny says, smiling.

"I'd like to go to prom with you," Butters says.

Kenny nods very fast. He wants, at that moment, more than just prom. He wants every life and every death with Butters. He wants them to go, hand-in-hand the way they are now, and face as many deaths and revivals as they have left in them, together.

#South Park #sp bunny #sp style #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #butters stotch #kyle broflovski #tbh idk how well this fits the prompt but i tried lmao

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