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luveline · 11 months

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𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

things aren't the way you planned coming home with your newborn, but you have eddie there to lean on when things get hard (and an unlimited supply of 'munson-style' hugs). requested here. infatuated dad!eddie x mom!reader, 3k.

cw post partum recovery, reader is suffering from some symptoms of post partum depression

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"You're sure you can manage?" Wayne asks, his voice buzzing down the line.

Eddie peers out of the kitchen into the living room quietly. You're sitting on the sofa in a shape that can't be comfortable considering your recent stitches, the baby on your thighs where you've brought them together, your hands delicately posed on either side of his head.

"I think so," Eddie says, answering Wayne's questions with honesty. "She's feeling a little better today."

"It's hard, Eds. You take care of her and call me if you need help, okay? I'm proud of you. Both of you."

It catches Eddie off guard for a moment. He's done enough crying lately, clearing his throat to say, "Thanks, Wayne. Call me tomorrow."

"You call me, I don't wanna wake anyone if you're sleeping."

They say their goodbyes. Eddie leans against the kitchen doorway to spy on you and the baby. Babies cry more than he ever could've imagined despite the warnings, but it's quiet, too. There are moments of peacefulness like this one breaking apart the chaos.

You're whispering something. Eddie stands very still, wishing the dishwasher would magically silence itself. He strains to hear you.

"I love you," you say. "Sorry I'm tired, honey. I promise I'll be better. You're so beautiful."

Eddie bites his cheeks, wondering if his family (his family!) aim to make him cry and little else tonight. He gives himself a look in the mirror magnet on the fridge framed by a We Love Michigan border, rainbows and cute elk surrounding something less pretty. His hair is frizzy but that's nothing new, greasy at the top and dry at the bottom. He scrapes it back into a scrappy bun and wipes the oil from his face with his sleeves. He's in dire need of a shower.

Resigned, he steps out of the kitchen, new socks slippery on old linoleum before finding stability on the crush of carpet in need of a vacuuming in the living room. You look up and bless him with a smile.

You've had a bad case of the baby blues, though the midwife assured him that was normal, and not to worry unless it continued past the first few weeks.

Well, Eddie will worry. Any depression you experience breaks his heart, no matter the cause, and no matter how temporary it may be. Just 'cos a cut might heal doesn't mean it didn't hurt when you got it.

"How do you feel?" he asks cautiously.

You make a face that he knows precedes a lie. "Don't worry about me."

He sits on the arm to look down at the baby —his baby, his son— in your hold, your face moving immediately to rest on his thigh.

"I'm okay, teddy," you say.

"How about you?" he asks the baby, taking his hand gently.

The baby doesn't open his eyes nor answer the question, well and truly asleep.

"Do you think Charlie was the right name?" you ask, stroking his small face lightly.

"If we hate it, we can just call him Wayne."

Eddie's out of this world lucky that you'd liked the name and loved him enough to name the baby after his uncle. Charlie Wayne Munson, born six pounds and two ounces, the smallest baby they saw all week in Hawkins General.

"He looks more like a Wayne than a Charlie," you say, rubbing your cheek into Eddie's sweatpants.

"He's so fucking beautiful," Eddie says, getting his hand behind your shoulders. He gives your back a loving rub, up and down the whole stiff length of it. "Would you relax? Or tell me what's wrong? Please?"

"Nothing's wrong… Look how perfect he is, I'd be a freak to act like something was wrong," you say, the exhale of your words warming his leg.

Eddie rubs his hand up with a tad more roughness until the cinch between your shoulders has flattened.

"You're having a biological reaction," Eddie says, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head. "Don't feel bad about feeling bad, sweetheart. This is a physical thing, that's all it is. You're not a freak for feeling wobbly."

You relax even more, pad of your thumb swiping Charlie's smooth cheek.

"Want me to make you feel better?" he asks.

"How?"

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking we'd make a list. Starting with a hug, quickly followed by something amazing to eat before Wayne wakes up."

"Charlie," you correct with a small laugh.

"Is there a nickname for Charlie?" Eddie asks. "What are we gonna call him? Lee?"

"We'll think of something," you promise.

Eddie isn't worried about it. He figures there's at least five years of nickname time to get one that sticks. For now, he has a list to make and things to do, and the first is making sure you're as well as you can be. He starts with the hug, pulling what you want for dinner from you one soft kiss to your temple at a time. Chicken pot pie? Ramen noodles with a fried egg on top? Sesame chicken? Triple cheeseburgers?

You can't decide. Eddie chooses breakfast for dinner. It won't take long —he can fry the sausage, eggs, turkey bacon and toast in one pan.

He keeps the door open to watch you, though nothing is actively wrong. You're deflated now rather than tense, petting and fawning over the baby as much as you can without waking him up.

"Just as handsome as your dad," you say.

It's a lovely sentiment but Charlie does not approve. He blinks awake, signified by your saccharine, "Hi, baby boy," followed by ten seconds of awe-filled cooing. Eddie's frying some bread in the pan but dinner can wait, he wants to see the baby with his eyes open again.

By the time Eddie reaches the couch, he's crying.

You move him carefully into a rock-a-bye hold and shush him. "It's alright," you say.

"He sounds like you."

"What?" you ask between shushes, hand tapping a slow and gentle rhythm into Charlie's swaddle.

"He sounds like you when he cries," Eddie insists.

Not your pained screams a few days ago nor your heart wrenching tears when you're feeling at your worst, but your hormonal sobbing. Like when you saw the commercial about the new 'shoplifters exposed' program on CBS that featured an old lady who stole a tangerine from the grocery store and got arrested despite her having alzheimers. She didn't mean to, Eddie, why would they make her cry like that? In fairness, it was a very upsetting commercial, but you cried for four hours, and for days afterward your eyes would well with tears and he'd know exactly what you were thinking of.

"When you're on your period," he explains. "When you know you wouldn't usually cry."

"You think so?" you ask.

"I think the solution is the same, too."

You nod your agreement. "He's hungry."

You and Eddie feed the baby with varying levels of success. Charlie doesn't wanna latch even though it's a bottle teat, causing some confusion —is he not hungry? Is he cold? No, sweetheart, he's not cold, he's got two blankets and the thermostat's at 68 Fahrenheit. Maybe he needs a new diaper? You check. His diaper's clean.

You're looking more and more defeated by the second. Eddie sits beside you to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. Babies are hard to look after, but he knows you'll both grow into it. You're exhausted from nine long months and a turbulent half day stint of pushing and crying and turning the bones in his hands into powder, your hormones are going crazy, and you're having a tough time. This won't be your forever feeling (though if it were to last, Eddie would stay at your side through that, too, that's not a question).

"You know what else works when you're not feeling good?" Eddie asks, offering his arms. He isn't some muscled herculean shape, but when you hand Charlie over, his arms look strong. Capable. Holding Charlie feels just as perfect as holding you. "A Munson-style cuddle," he finishes, trying to speak to his wailing son in that same bubbly parentese you've started talking in.

Eddie did a lot of talking to your bump while you were pregnant, but he was usually just trying to make you laugh. There were times where he'd lay with his nose against your hip and his arm under the bump, wondering about moments like this. What was the baby going to look like? What colour would his eyes be? What will it feel like to hold the baby in his arms?

Charlie feels lighter than Eddie first prophesied. Small. He has eyes like yours rather than eyes like his and he couldn't love it more.

Eddie takes the bottle when you offer it and sandwiches the baby to his chest. He doesn't want to condescend you, doesn't want to shoo you off, but Charlie's crying around the bottle and you look veritably miserably.

"Do you wanna go and make sure the food isn't on the turn?" he asks. When he realised the baby wasn't going to go down easy again he put your plates on a baking sheet and put the oven on low to keep it warm.

You hesitate. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I think so, sweetheart. We're barely a room away, alright?"

He's called you sweetheart more since the birth of your son than ever before, which is insane; Eddie's called you sweetheart likely twice a day since the day you met. That's a whole lot of sweethearts.

With the baby's changing mood comes a change in the weather. Eddie pats his little back, a quiet thump thump thump, while rain lashes the closed windows. The baby finally decides he's hungry, and the mood turns from frenetic to ambient almost immediately.

"You make sure you eat if you're hungry!" Eddie calls to you.

"Are you sure?"

"I think…" He drifts off, distracted by Charlie's long eyelashes, the way they skim under his eyes and the tiny noises he makes as he suckles. "Aw, baby," he murmurs, "good job. I knew you were hungry. You sounded just like your mom." He can't help grinning. Eddie is really talking to his kid right now, his real life baby. "You made her super emotional, but you're her whole world now. You're mine, too, obviously, but I'm cooler than this." He sighs. "No. I'm not. This is the coolest thing ever."

"What do you think?" you ask softly.

Eddie looks up. You're standing at the door, staring at them like they're made of sparkling diamond, every inch precious.

"Right. I think that we're gonna have to start eating when we can. Wayne never had a baby, but he said I was bad enough as a teenager, and Steve said he's lucky if he gets to eat a hot meal some days."

"Steve does have three," you say, frowning. "We really can't eat together anymore?"

You ask like you're less bothered than you are. Like a gimmicky Oh, man. Eddie knows it hides a real worry, and right now he's trying to give you the world on a silver platter, so he dots a little kiss on Charlie's head and says warmly into his skin, "No, that's not true. You're going to be such a good kid, me and mom will be eating together all the time. Isn't that right?"

Eddie looks at you with his head still tilted down. "I wanna eat together, okay? Everything's changing, but dinner doesn't have to. I just wanted you to eat 'cos you left half of your waffles at breakfast."

"I can wait."

"Then let's wait. You wanna come and hold him?"

"No, he's settled. I don't wanna mess it up again."

"You didn't," Eddie says, firm and sweet at once. "Sweetheart, come here. You didn't mess up, okay? I'm serious, come and sit with me."

You hesitate in the way. You're still unsteady on your feet despite the few days you've had to recuperate. Though your hair is cleaner than his it certainly isn't clean, nor are the clothes you've pulled on. Eddie read up and asked around on what would be comfiest for you, debating nightgowns and silk pyjamas at length, but all you've wanted to wear is a hoodie you've had since you were a teenager and a pair of sweatpants with fraying cuffs. He loves it —you look like an adorable dork.

Your stomach visibly churns. Eddie thinks you might chuck up, is already pulling the baby to his chest to place in the bassinet when you take a short, quiet gasp for air.

"Sorry, I don't know why I feel so on and off. I know it's just hormones. I promise I feel happy– I feel happy–" You gesture an open palm toward him. "He's gorgeous, Eds, he's everything I wanted and so much more, I just– I just feel like crying and I don't know why," you confess, blinking to suppress tears, shifting your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Eddie detests seeing you this uneasy, and he swoops in to correct it.

"Come here," he says again, no hands free to hold out to you. He hopes his voice is inviting enough.

You shrink into yourself. "I'm being weird."

"I like when you're weird. I kind of love it. I don't think we'd be in the mess if I didn't love it."

"It's a mess?" you ask.

"It's perfect."

You finally smile, creeping around the bassinet and the needlessly baby proofed coffee table to sit on the edge of the couch with him. Charlie makes a sound in the back of his throat.

"Hear that? He knows you're here," Eddie murmurs, making room for you hopefully.

You sidle up to his thigh and lean on his arm, careful not to knock his elbow. You watch Charlie drink his bottle for as long as there's milk left, two ounces knocked back like it's nothing.

Eddie eases the teat from Charlie's lips carefully. With care but a clumsy imprecise manoeuvre, he lays Charlie down in the bassinet. He has a lot of hair for such a small baby, enough to stroke back from his forehead, soft under Eddie's fingertips.

"He's really, really beautiful," Eddie says quietly.

"I know," you say, an anxious hand on your cheek. "I can't believe something as good as him could come from someone like me."

Eddie stands between your legs, resting a loving hand at the slope of your shoulder. "Why would you ever think something like that?" he asks, his voice as soft as it's ever been, but with a smile in case you don't want to talk about it any more.

"He's… I'm just not…"

Eddie gives you time. You've needed it ever since you went into labour, time to piece things together.

"I really thought I was ready," you say, looking up at him with a pinch between your eyebrows.

He brings his hand up to cup your face. You don't lean into it. "Alright, I'm going to talk for a little while, 'n' I know you won't agree with everything I'm saying but I need you to know that this is how I really feel, yeah? Buckle up." Eddie bends down, unafraid of embarrassing himself because it's you. "I know you think these feelings are your fault… that this is some failing, like you're–" He drops his voice to a whisper, "Like you're being a bad mom already, but it's not the truth."

You startle at being read so easily. "Eds," you mumble.

"We knew this might be how you felt afterward, the midwife talked and talked about baby blues and you said–"

"I said I couldn't understand how I'd ever feel sad once he was born," you say, looking at his neck rather than his face.

"And that's fine, you know? You're not a bad person for thinking it would be perfect and then changing your mind."

"But he is perfect," you say.

Eddie rubs your cheek. "He's perfect, but this is hard. Being a new mom with your stitches and your aching tummy and all the gross fluids–"

You laugh through a groan, pressing your eye into his hand.

He leaps to keep it going. "This isn't how you expected to feel, but that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Cry if you feel like crying and don't feel fucking guilty about it, this sucks. You had to do the world's most tumultuous campaign for the last nine months and suddenly you're standing at the start of a new one that takes up, like, a gazillion pages with half health and an equally useless companion."

Your lips press into a thin line, but your eyes are soft and bright despite their obvious fatigue. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers and push his hand further into your cheek.

"My dork," you murmur.

"You understand it, don't you? Makes you an even bigger dork."

You nudge your nose into his palm. "I understand. Thank you, honey."

Eddie's not done. "You said you don't know how something good like him could come from someone like you? I don't think bad was a possibility."

Your second thank you is better. The first wasn't inauthentic, but this one sounds as though you genuinely believe him. Eddie bows down into a crouch to wrap his arms around you, the majority of his weight on your shoulders and avoiding your sore lower region, and the entirety of his love pressed to your cheek, a long, mindless kiss.

"I love you," you say.

Eddie tucks his head against yours, ignoring his protesting knees. "I love you, too."

Your food turns to dry mulch by the time you remember it in the oven. You're too distracted by Eddie's hug, his offering for a shoulder massage, and the subsequent second hug that ensues, your back to his chest, dozing in the sanctuary of his arms. Munson-style cuddles are his expertise.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thank you for reading!

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aeriedwelling · 4 months

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Gunner's never been particularly good at handling children. Especially not tiny, scrawny children that obviously haven't eaten a proper meal maybe ever.

To say it startled him would be an understatement. He'd ventured below decks to get a new keg of beer for the celebration upstairs, only for a crash and clatter to send him into hysterics and a string of curses. He'd whirled around, eyes landing on a kid, and now he's- he's just staring.

It's very obviously a hybrid, and its lack of a shirt makes it very easy to see a messy split right down its middle where its hybrid traits collide. The right half of its body is yellow and fuzzy, with a dusting of brown freckles along its cheek and down its shoulder. Its left side is smooth with dark scales, almost like an enderman. its hair is split as well, gold on the scaley side and brown on the yellow. A long, thin tail with tufts of fur at the end curls around its legs, and four arms brace themselves on barrels and the walls and floor of the ship. It's wearing scrappy shorts, but nothing else.

"What're you doin' down here?" Gunner asks. The kid blinks, its eyes also mismatched, the yellow-side eye a deep crimson, and the purple side a piercing gold.

A light buzzing fills the air. By the gods, this kid has wings.

"What are you?" he presses, though both sides seem obvious, "A bee? An enderman?"

At this, the kid frowns.

"Endermite," it corrects, in a voice that is raspy and tired and much too old for someone who is so young, and Gunner nods his head.

"Endermite," he repeats. The kid's tail coils and uncoils. "So I was right about the bee?"

It nods.

"Well," Gunner scratches the back of his head. His eyes wander to the barrel the kid's pressed itself up against, and spots damage on the side, a gap big enough for a tiny hand to barely squeeze through. There's crumbs on the floor. A thief. The captain won't be happy. "Shit, kid, what are you doin' out here?"

The kid's stare is unblinking, steady, and honestly pretty creepy.

They don't pick up stowaways often. Gunner may be bad with kids, sure, but the captain is about a million times worse. There's a reason he's replaced his entire crew twice.

It shrugs. He sighs.

"Alright. Alright," he crouches down to be level with the kid. "I need- I need words, kid. How long have you been down here?"

The kid's head tilts down, its brow furrowing. Its tail coils closer as it thinks.

"Maybe-" it swallows "-maybe a month."

"A month," Gunner repeats. He nods, slowly, "a month."

The kid's good at hiding, then, if nobody's mentioned it being here. The crew loves gossip, surely he'd have caught wind or whispers or...anything, really, before now.

"Alright," he says, tilting his head. The kid doesn't look at him. "I dunno what you've been doin' to stay so hidden down here, but it's clearly workin'. Keep doin' that, and we'll drop you off at the next city."

The kid's brow furrows deeper. Now it's back to glaring up at Gunner.

"Why can't I stay on the ship?"

"The captain'll kill ya," he answers, simple.

The kid's eyes go wide.

"So you gotta promise me," Gunner presses. "You will stay hidden. You will avoid anyone who isn't me. You will not speak. You'll stop stealing, cause I'm gonna feed you, and you won't make yourself known to anyone."

The kid's tail coils and uncoils.

"Promise."

It nods.

Gunner nods back, then pushes himself back to standing.

"Stay hidden," he reminds it. He hoists a keg onto his shoulder, and turns to head back up to the deck. "I'll be back soon."

#this needs to be edited. but. holds them so gentle.#gunner the zombie piglin #< oc tag #mirror oleander #< also an oc tag #idk how to write their story but i'mma give it a shot #aerie drabbles #w h at is my writing tag. i don't rember #aerie writes stuff #me when i write #ooooh you wanna ask me about these two soooo bad /silly nf

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tinkabelle24 · 2 months

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To Build a Home

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back (PART 3)

A/N: This chapter was initially going to be super long (like, 7-8 thousand words, but I ultimately decided to split it in half as the next scene is pretty self-contained... and long 😅

I hope you're still strapped in; the super uncomfortable ride is still in motion 😭

TW! Verbal Abuse (hinted).

Masterlist / Chapter 23

---

Val usually smiled while she slept; that beautiful, lopsided, dimpled smile... This time, those lips were pulled taut. Jaw clenched; Raph swore he'd heard her teeth grind together a few times. She wasn't necessarily sleeping well, but at least she was finally sleeping.

His lap had been her pillow for over an hour. With one hand gently smoothing out her coconut-scented tresses, the other aimlessly tapped and scrolled away on his shell-cell as he struggled blocking out the intensifying cries of his very empty stomach.

They didn't end up cooking nor eating the steak dinner Casey and April left for them. Raph had the opened meat package in his grasp and griddle on the stove, but then he spied his half-naked girlfriend traipsing into the bathroom and, well...

His body heaved rougher than anticipated as exasperation escaped him, causing Val to stir.

"Sorry- sorry..." The panicked terrapin muttered, deftly returning her head to her pillow as he eased off the mattress.

With bated breath, he watched her mumble and restlessly shift under the sheets for several moments, before finally, thankfully, resettling.

This was nowhere near ideal.

He had plans for them today. Mostly sex, admittedly, but other activities also. I swear. He'd booked this place for a reason - quality alone time.

They haven't gotten much of it since Maggie entered the scene. Being out from under Leo's prying gaze has been a welcome experience, but their sweet, scrappy little girl - whom Val extricated from below freezing December streets, literally ready to pop - hasn't made life any less chaotic.

She's been a handful and a half to raise (understandable, considering where they presumed she'd lived most of her young life), and often sleeps wedged between them. It's no secret Val's her favourite; she follows her around like a goddamn lovestruck puppy.

Nevermind who feeds ya! Heh...

Another uncomfortable grumble emanated from the terrapin's stomach. With a soft groan, he finally relented, making a beeline for the kitchenette.

---

Raph spent the following couple hours hanging about inside and outside the cottage; collecting wood, stoking the fire, scrolling through his gallery...

...downing three Americanos consecutively, to stave off that familiar, unbidden itch...

Though he tried thinking of other, less anxiety-inducing things, his mind kept shifting to the decision he had to make tonight; and the bedside drawer in which the subject of said decision hid.

After this morning, he no longer felt so sure...

"Raph...?"

The terrapin lifted his gaze from the screen with a half-mustered "Hm?", finding Val finally sitting up; knees to her breasts, rubbing the sleep from her still tired face.

"Mornin', sleepyhead..." the growing lump in his oesophagus impeded his attempt at a lighter tone. "Feelin' any better?"

"Yeah, I guess..."

His eyes eventually found hers. She had that look; the look she always gave whenever she was about to tell him something she knew he wouldn't like...

"Can we talk...?"

---

"Okay..." Raph bit back a snarl as indigence promptly surpassed concern. He would've equated it to a kick in the guts, but then he realised he'd have much preferred that over whatever the fuck this was turning out to be...

"So, I'm curious to know exactly what compelled ya to call him, of all people, at two o'clock in the mornin'? What the fuck was so important that ya couldn't wait till Sunday to say, hm? Riddle me that."

A soft scoff escaped Val's chapped lips as she tore away her gaze, wedging her clasped hands between her thighs.

She hated when he got like this.

It didn't happen often; thrice, including this one, throughout the course of their entire relationship. But the words he spat at her during those times, the names he used, will forever be scored into her memory...

She could understand the hurt, the fear, the anger... but this? She couldn't abide.

"Don't talk to me like that, please-"

Incredulous, Raph began sneering, "Like what-"

The woman shot him a dangerous look.

"Like I'm beneath you."

Val caught something akin to shock mixed with guilt flicker in her boyfriend's eyes as he broke contact and straightened up atop the mattress, finally exiting her personal space.

"You're hurt. I get it, alright? But that doesn't grant you the right to be a condescending asshole... You wanna know why I called him? Then please, just... let me finish."

Raph was silent now, tentatively searching his girlfriend's face as she attempted composing herself. After a long, unsteady breath, she finally continued.

"I didn't like the way his and my conversation went yesterday. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I b-blew up... I was a bitch. I didn't say everything I needed to say and it was eating me alive, so... I called him. It doesn't look great - I know it doesn't look great. I just... I didn't wanna risk ruining- well, ruining this weekend more over a thought I couldn't get unstuck..."

A tense silence fell over the couple as they continued scrutinising each other, attempting to will the other's innermost thoughts out into the open.

Every word that had fallen from Val's tongue felt incriminating, like she'd just confessed to the thing she desperately wanted not to be true.

She could only hope her exhausted mind was simply messing with her...

"Do you have..." Raph swallowed hard as he mustered the strength to finish his question. He didn't want to know - he had to. "F-feelings... for him?"

At that, Val's expression hardened. She neither blinked nor breathed for several moments - just stared.

---

Mol's phone vibrated and dinged loudly beneath Maggie's belly, prompting the young feline to dig her claws into her unsuspecting guardian's jeans-clad thigh as she leapt to the carpet.

"C'mon, Mags..." The raven-haired woman groaned, rubbing the offended leg as she lifted the device into view. Upon unlocking it, she couldn't help the frown that tugged at her face; nor the anxiety that bloomed in her chest...

It was a text - from Raph.

[It's off.]

Mol's blood ran cold.

A panicked "What?!" escaped her as she shot out of her seat, trembling thumbs darting over the keypad as she attempted drafting a response.

No... This can't- t-they can't possibly have... NO!!!

[WTF HAPPENED???]

She needn't wait for his response to receive her answer. The moment 'send' was pressed, the unmistakable jangling of keys snapped the woman's attention toward the front door.

Don't you dare, Val...

She flinched at the door finally clicking unlocked, then creaking open.

Don't you fucking DARE...!

A familiar Doc Martens boot stepped through, and her heart plummeted to her stomach.

"V-Val...?"

Her best friend, face swollen and blotchy and eyes brimming with tears, finally made a full appearance; gripping the handle for dear life. Crumpled up tissues laid in her other hand...

No sign of it.

Oh, God...

Their eyes eventually met. Val froze, a strangled whimper slipping from her lips as her suitcase toppled to the floor. She clearly wasn't expecting company.

"Val, I'm so sorry-"

The brunette's gaze abruptly shifted; her rigid body and wide, frantic eyes now crumbling with patent despair. Following it, Mol winced at what her friend had found:

Leo's gift - the bonsai - sitting atop the dining table.

It wasn't there last night, when she left; he must've snuck it in afterward... and that fucking letter.

When she stumbled across that - Val's name skillfully etched in sumi on the envelope's face - it took everything she had not to tear the fucking thing up, douse the pieces in alcohol, then set them alight.

She wanted desperately to rid any and all trace of the interloper from Val's life, so he could finally stop confusing the everloving fuck out of her best friend.

But then, as she was moments from following through on said impulse, she realised: this was not her business.

"Hey- n-no, it's okay-"

Val had suddenly veered off, fleeing into the bathroom.

"Val-!" Mol (and an excited Maggie, meowing shrilly) attempted following, but the door was promptly slammed in their faces.

On the other side, ignoring her friend's desperate knocks and pleas to be let in, Val finally succumbed to her heartbreak.

---

The truck was still running when Raph slammed out of it, hollering at the top of his lungs, "LEO!"

I'm gonna kill'im.

I'm gonna FUCKIN' kill'im!

Striding into the Lair, he spotted Mikey first; gawking at him from his recliner in the common area. Having left his video game unpaused, his character was unceremoniously cut down by a giant, crown-wearing toad.

"Uhhh, hey-?"

"Where is he?!"

"...L-Leo-?"

"Nah, Fathah Christmas- of course fuckin' Leo!"

As the red-banded terrapin continued his tirade, Donnie finally traipsed out of his lab, envelope in hand.

"He's gone."

Raph immediately fell silent. Slowly, he turned to his brother, amber orbs narrowing in disbelief. "He didn't-"

"He did," Donnie affirmed, through gritted teeth. Raph had his (very valid) reasons for his current feelings toward their eldest brother but, now, so did he and Mikey. "Last night. No warning, no goodbye; just took the van and... l-left."

He thought they were closer than that...

Mikey no longer appeared engaged. He'd long turned from the two; slumped in his seat, eyes forward as he silently carried on with his game.

Listening. Thinking. Resenting his eldest brothers' seemingly endless feuding...

With a tremulous breath, Donnie lifted the envelope to Raph's gaze, drawing his attention to it, before dropping it onto the dining table. "This is yours, by the way..."

Recognising the handwriting, Raph promptly let loose a roar, flipping the table, and everything atop it, onto the floor.

His brothers didn't even flinch.

---

youtube

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I had to; curiousity got the better of me 😅

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Masterlist / Chapter 25

@android-cap-007 @happymoonangel @miss-andromeda @raphaelismybae @jasminarts01

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danses-with-dogmeat · 10 months

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I/O is for -- Old Longfellow

Whew, okAY, this was fun to write 😁 Another I'm pretty unused to, but I've always enjoyed reading other people's works with him, so it was fun discovering my own interpretation of this character. And the randomized aspect of this one for the rating/dialogue was... interesting, lol 😅

I do hope you all enjoy though!

And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!

Pair: Old Longfellow x Reader

Dialogue: “I should’ve done this ages ago.”

Word: Opinion.

Rating: NSFW (but more suggestive, really)

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 800

One last kiss pressed to your opened lips before Longfellow pulled away, and rolled off from overtop you. The bed creaked and protested at his shifting, but you found yourself moving closer to his warmth, his barrel-like chest akin to a furnace after all of the exertion between the two of you. You felt the heavy rise and fall from his breathing as you settled on your back beside him, your head tilting to rest against his shoulder as one of his large hands moved to slide around you.

“Mm, tellin’ you, should’ve done this ages ago.” The rough fingers of Longfellow’s free hand brushed over the smooth inside of your thigh as he spoke lowly in the dim, moonlit room. You smiled at the sentiment, humming your agreement as his touch lulled you into a blissful fog.

A whoosh sounded through the still air as his hand left your leg to pull the thin bed sheet over your bodies, feeling the way your touching skin grew clammy against him, and moving to fend off the chill that inevitably crept in from the ocean outside. The blanket was scratchy as it settled over you; rough, like so much else on this hard, seaside land, but it didn’t matter.

You felt warm, safe, sated. There was something about the older man that just made you feel cared for.

“Should’ve let meself move on, be happy like this again, ‘fore it’s too late.”

“You did.” You said simply, eyes only half open as you looked up at him, the glow of your union fading from your body, leaving your limbs buzzing and tired.

“Nah… This ain’t enough. Ain’t good for you.” He huffed decidedly, turning on his side to face you, leaving the mattress to squeak out its protest, and you to shift to accommodate his new position. “An old man like me? You’ve got so much left in ya, darlin’. Me though… Well, I’m still kickin,’ I guess. Jus’ slower than I used to, that’s all.”

“Old? You’re kidding.” You let out a humorless sort of chuckle. One that you’d definitely heard from him and began doing yourself now, as an adopted habit. “I’ve got a hundred years on you, young buck. At least.”

“Oh, hush. I wasn’t frozen none of my years. It don’t count.”

You felt a playful shove into your side as his elbow made contact.

“See it plain on my face, my age.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” You turned to look at him, the sleep temporarily dashing away from you with each somber word out of his mouth. “You worried that I care what people think, seeing you with me out there?”

“Well–”

“Cuz I don’t.” You told him firmly, prodding a finger into his solid chest for emphasis, “They don’t know me, and they don’t know how good you are for me. How could they tell that just from a look?”

“Suppose they couldn’t…” Old Longfellow conceded, knowing any argument with the pre-war lawyer was one he didn’t have much chance of winning.

With a decisive nod, you rolled onto your back again, settling in against the pillows behind you. They too, had a certain sort of scratchy-ness to them, and a musty smell, but still… In your fatigue, they felt as good as any plush, perfumed furnishing you could imagine.

“... You really think I’m good fer ya?” Longfellow whispered, almost as if he didn’t expect an answer.

“Mmhm.” You hummed, eyes now closed and half on your way to dreamland already. “Why else would I be with you?”

“Never really thought to question it, if I’m honest. Just felt too good to be true. Smart gal/guy like you, scrappy one too, heh.” His little chuckle shook the bed, and forced a small smile to your tired lips. “Thought maybe I was dreamin,’ or that the fog had gotten to my brain. Didn’t matter to me though, since it was so sweet a musing.”

His fingers resumed brushing over your leg as he spoke, pulling you further towards sleep, but still, you forced a couple more words out, hoping to satisfy him enough to encourage him to chase his own call to blissful, restful unconsciousness.

“It is sweet. And it’s real.” One of your hands delved down to grasp with the one circling over your leg, giving it a firm and definite squeeze. “I want you, Longfellow. No matter who thinks what. Even if you think it isn’t right, or you’re too old, or whatever else you tell yourself, ‘s not gonna stop me from wanting to be with you.”

“No?”

You shook your head, eyes still closed firmly, stubbornly.

“Hm. Well, ain’t I lucky… Alrighty, puffin, I’ll let ya get some rest.” He gave your hand an affectionate little squeeze in return, and you felt the mattress shift as he released you and turned over himself. “Guess I can’t be too out of it for my age, if I can still wear you out like that…” You heard him chuckle to himself as you passed into sleep, and a playful grin rested on your face as warm darkness brought you into its embrace.

#2k event #2k celebration #secret event #fallout #fallout companions #fallout npc #fallout 4 #fallout 4 companions #fo4 #fo4 companions #far harbor #far harbour dlc #old longfellow #old longfellow fo4

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eusuntgratie · 8 months

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pens @ blues 10.21.23

some thoughts from the game last night since i was too tired to do anything useful after posting like 3 pics.

jake came out before warmups and sat on the bench for a while and just kinda stared at the ice. he's so skinny seeing him in leggings made me want to feed him.

tanger and ricky both looked kind of...subdued? off? something? through warmups and to a lesser extent through the game too. tanger really didn't seem to have his heart in his weird little stretching and puck gathering rituals. i hope he's not hurt.

po was there for warmups and also looked pretty bummed out, but i guess he knew he wasn't playing.

jarry seemed really happy and animated during warmups. i got some pics of him if any of the jarry girlies (gn) want one.

gravy is so LARGE. beautiful haunted vampire. i am still mourning the loss of my beloved babygirl but i like him.

doc was very sweet. he ended up right in front of my daughter at one point for warmups and after doing some stickhandling he looked right at her and flipped her a puck. i did the worst job i ever have trying to catch it and knocked into the dad next to me, but everyone we were close to last night was super chill and nice so he just gave it to her. the little boy next to her was so excited and kept congratulating her for getting a puck and telling her how cool it was.

kappy had a great game. the dudebros behind me were bragging on him. him and kris were very scrappy... he shoved kris into the boards hard on our end.

i know it wasn't his best game but jars made some great saves that even the blues fans (we were surrounded no pens fans near us sadly) had to give credit for.

cookie was definitely talking some shit to binnington and a few of the other blues but seemed to be happy and good spirited.

i know i've already posted about this but geno's goal was the highlight of our night. he's my girl's favorite penguin and she was in his jersey. as soon as he got sent to the box she told me he'd score coming out... AND THEN HE DID. we were on the opposite end so we had a delayed reaction but we were so excited. seeing geno on his hot girl shit in person was incredible. would've been great if anybody else had been on that level but...experience penguins hockey etc etc

i sadly coudn't see daddy i mean sully yelling at everyone bc where we were sitting but i can certainly imagine it

cannot overstate how comical tanger crashing into the net was. just right in there, nothing jars could do but get taken out like bowling pin. tanger checks on him a LOT throughout the game... my man is dedicated to his goalie.

kris's post game sweaty hair flip almost took me out. the man is too hot he must be stopped.

shoutout to whoever made the dubas sign and ek's #1 fan we hung out with at warmups <3

i'm sure i'm forgetting things but it was a fun night! always happy to see my boys in person.

if anybody wants pics of anybody in particular lmk and i'll see what i've got. i took a ton during warmups. i know i have a bunch of tanger gravy and jars.

#pens lb #but the next day bc ya girl was tired #pens

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choihanse · 2 months

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hello again, i'm sure you're tired of seeing me by now!! it's bear (he/him) and this here is my scrappy little guy, choi hanse! he's a 22 year old engineering student at sungkyunkwan university, and he really likes sports, cute people, and frogs. here are links to his profile, and bio, and under the cut i'll leave some tldr info about him. please like this post if you'd like to plot, and i'll hope into you IMs (finally)!

choi hanse was most definitely an accident. his mother had him when she was only 16, and proceeded to hand him over to his grandparents for them to raise him. he doesn't blame her. at 16 he couldn't even look after himself, let alone a baby

he didn't know his mother well as she moved to another city so know one would know about hanse, but he has a distant sort of sibling-like relationship with her now

his grandparents, to him, pretty much are his parents. they're who've always looked after him and embraced him and he loved growing up with them

he's a very practical/hands-on kinda guy, which is why he's doing engineering. he always excelled at math, science and sports

he loves to be active, and hates being on his own. he's always with someone.

he loves nature and being outside. he feels very cooped up when he's stuck inside, so never liked school since it felt suffocating being in a classroom all day when he wanted to be outside playing soccer or baseball or basketball

he's super blunt, though at the same time he's not insensitive. he tends to always tell the truth, even if it can hurt someone, but he's not stupid enough to tell someone their new outfit is hideous

really loves small 'wild' animals like mice, birds, and frogs. his grandparents always sent him outside to play as a kid so he grew really attached to wildlife and talks to them like they're his friends

befriended a pigeon as a child and sobbed for days when it stopped visiting him because he feared the worst

loves trying new things and is very open-minded. even though he sucks at art or wordy stuff, if someone wanted him to go with them to a poetry class or pottery class, he'd go just to make them happy and because it might be funny seeing how terrible all the stuff he produces turns out

#jongno:hello #[ hanse ; intro ]

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tryingthoughts · 6 days

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i have lately been thinking about how permanent this moment feels. ive been "looking for jobs", "looking for appartments", "trying to move" for months. it's over a year of talking about it with my prospective roommates, and something like 8 or 9 months of looking for cities and jobs to move into.

and still here i am. i feel ashamed that i havent developped any marketable, "useful" skills with regards to becoming employed. it feels like i haven't actually been making good use of my unemployment or of living with my parents. i am ashamed that i have so little to show for this swath of time here. ive little job experience, im tired eternally it seems.

that's another thing I'm kind of trying to reconcile with: my exhaustion feels permanent. i have been feeling tired for years. i wonder if maybe i have a different linguistic understanding of "being tired"?

ive been considering learning more about my childhood religion recently. i think this is brought on by seeing those who practice that religion generally content and talking about the coping skills and tools they have at their disposal through that avenue. i also think the ritual aspects, regardless of my own personal spirituality, may be comforting.

anyways, i guess that's the update. i want to do an online crash course in microsoft 365, that would be pretty useful i think. otherwise, im considering a return to school? im still crafting - im finishing my first sweater for myself, im making a scrappy quilt, and ive got a cardigan for my toy bear on the needles too. so ive definitely been dipping into those hobbies more this year. which is good! i also recently tidied two surfaces in my room and repotted my shamrocks and my mango tree - the mango is getting so big now, im very pleased in that. it's hard to see these things positively when i feel down a lot, but im starting with just starting them i guess. thats the methodology - begin something, you dont have to finish it, but begin, if nothing else.

#mental health #failure #unemployment #hobbies #crafting has been very satisfying #i am allowed to create things that are only valuable to me #and i get to decide their value #saying that over and over again anytime someone questions my crafting #its mine and thats all it has to be if i want

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the-firebird69 · 4 months

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Raising Arizona | #TBT Trailer | 20th Century FOX

youtube

He thinks our sun is running hard not kick your 5150 when we introduce the new frame and sell it and he's trying to threaten for the company just doesn't work. He's trying to use some pretty stiff stuff but he can't do it it doesn't want to get exposed so he goes to find Randall text Cobb it checks the locations that our son had mentioned and he finds them and he's revived comes back and is going after them because they're suspect in harming him because he took over his role both of them and a lot of other stuff like hard not kicking 5150 p**** man it's a screw up I just screwed up everything else by the way. You took a break you didn't have to go through it that's why I'm laughing well I'm a Giants as you know you sound that way too I'm glad you did that sort of because I went through stuff and it was hard and my uncle Brown is back because don't call me that but that's fine so he gets into it and starts being the s*** out of him this is Brian is there he goes oh yeah so he's just using that and it creams tons of them tons and it's respectable number they're like a certain percentage of the population it was five recently but his arm is pretty big it's bigger than Trump's he tells him that he says we don't have that to afford and so he doesn't try to find a pseudo empire and they're already kicking their ass but yeah he does some work and he gets grabbed and he doesn't have Thor's ring he has our son's ring and he got it from Trump and he takes it to New Zealand and it hasn't happened yet

We're going to introduce the frame and sell it in order to get this going and we're going to sell it like our son and daughter suggest that's the way we do it and kind of Scrappy and I get what he's saying who to sell the first one to

Nuada Arrianna

If you look close at the island nest motorcycle it does not have this frame on it no

Olympus

Yeah this is the stuff we remember this is going to be tough and fun but for real we think the motorcycle he's riding here has that frame and he took it from Biden who is forced to fight Trump

Bill

I'm here too and this is amazing we now know why he was acting so weird but he was doing the right thing and his stuff kick some serious butt and with our grandson here it was unstoppable and worked now our grandson has the tires from the HK one and the hk2 and they're his trying to get him though Randall tries to grab them as everybody does but not that much no he tries pretty good

Preston

No yes I have to get them out

Trump

#Youtube

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shina913 · 2 years

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Scale, Part 9.5 | KSJ

Scale, Part 9.5

✮ ✮ ✮ Scale Masterlist ✮ ✮ ✮

Pairing: KSJ x fem!reader

Rating: Mature content (21+), no minors please!

Genre: Rich boy!AU; CEO!AU; strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut

Count: 3.3K+ words

Warnings: fluff; heavy cussing; SMUT; oral (f-receiving); unprotected sex (wrap it up)

Summary: Kim Seokjin lives in a world where money is no object as he is the heir to his family's lucrative company; OC is a scrappy go-getter who has to work hard at multiple jobs to meet her financial obligations. When their paths cross, they'll have to figure out whether they can find a balance point between themselves and their lives.

A/N: I realized that I put these two through the ringer so...here's a little gift for them.

PS - sorry if I'm totally botching the sailing/boating terms. I tried, y'all. Anyway, enjoy!

❤️, comment, reblog, or send me an ask 📩. Would love to know what everyone thinks.

You fidgeted with your clothes as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Were you too plain-looking? Too casual? Too…comfortable?

You tried to shake the memory of Miya’s voice echoing in your head. The thought of her wanting to dress like you sent a chill up your spine.

Then there was Jin’s voice–repeatedly assuring you that you were amazing and beautiful just the way you were…and that it wasn’t the way you looked or the way you dressed that made him fall for you. It was so much deeper than that. You had a connection that couldn’t be put into words but you both felt it.

“It just occurred to me that I have never taken you out on a proper date,” he remarked a few weeks after his kidnapping ordeal.

“I feel like we’re way past that, don’t you think,” you chuckled. It’s only been a few months into this relationship–though it felt longer than that given how eventful and complex things have been.

You were perfectly fine picking up where you left off in your relationship–eager to continue without further setbacks.

But Jin had an entirely different take.

He wanted a refresh…a “clean slate” of sorts. He was intent on making it up to you—he thought he owed you that much even though you made it clear to him that you weren’t collecting a “debt.”

“I mean–after everything, my feelings for you haven’t changed. Do I still look like I need to be wooed?”

“I would never, ever take romance out of the equation,” he says seriously. “Especially when it comes to you.”

And that’s how you ended up in front of your mirror, wearing a chunky-knit sweater, leggings, and sneakers. It didn’t scream “first date” but Jin insisted that you dress comfortably. The bottom showed comfort but you decided to make the top date-nice, at least. A compromise, you thought.

Since working on the Hwang books at the office, Hoseok has been so impressed with your contributions that he’s asked if you would be willing to take on more hands-on, accounting work and not just general clerical tasks…he lured you further by compensating you for the extra work–which made it difficult to turn down.

Agreeing to the extra work at the office meant scaling back on your schedule at the diner considerably. You pretty much eliminated weekday evening work and opted for part-time hours during the weekend–which freed you up to spend more time with your dad…and Jin.

“Never getting tired of this view.”

Your eyes dart up to your mirror from being downcast as you secure your hair with an elastic and brush it up into a ponytail.

He was leaning against your bedroom door frame, watching you intently. He was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt with slightly mussed up hair that you normally saw in the morning…usually after pulling on it the night before.

You laughed. “I’m literally just putting my hair up.”

He takes a few steps towards you. You finish up, put the hair brush down right in time for him to close in on you to wrap his arms around your waist.

“Doesn’t matter. I find any movement you make sexy,” he says in a low voice.

Your face began to heat up under his gaze. “Funny you say that–you should switch places with me,” you quipped as you swipe your thumb lightly against his lower lip.

He groans seductively. “You know…if I wasn’t so excited about today, I would drive us down to the apartment right now and have a moment with you, Miss YLN.” He places a warm, lingering kiss on your neck.

“I told you–we don’t need to go on this date,” you breathe into his ear, sinking your teeth to your bottom lip.

“Very tempting but we’ll have plenty of time for that, I promise,” he says as his lips grazes yours and applies a bit of pressure to your hips. “Today, I just want to sweep you off your feet,” he says with a boyish grin. It takes you aback for a moment when seconds ago, he looked like he was just about ready to devour you.

“Now, c’mon! Let’s get going while the weather's nice,” he says as he smacks you lightly on your ass.

******

Jin smiles with excitement as the waiter brings your order to your table.

Brows knitted, you grin at him playfully as you take a look at your lunch spread. As soon as you arrive at the Ferry Plaza Marketplace and read the restaurant’s sign, you glance at him curiously. He simply returns it with a wink–you know…the one that made you weak in the knees.

“Eat up,” he says invitingly before picking up a shell, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a quick slurp and tilting his head back to swallow.

“Hm. Oysters, huh?”

He hums in appreciation. “They’re fresh-caught, every day.”

You pick up a half-shell yourself and throw it back. It had a fresh, briny aftertaste with a slight sweetness and creamy finish that went down smoothly.

“Good?”

You nodded and proceeded to dig into a bowl of warm, comforting seafood chowder whose broth you sopped up with slices of fresh-baked sourdough bread.

After your early lunch, you strolled arm in arm further down the waterfront where the marina stretches in front of you. You see rows of boats–all shapes and sizes, bobbing up and down the calm waters.

You glance out on the bay, you already spot a few boats out in the water. It was a beautiful, sunny day with a soft breeze and gentle waves.

The boats get considerably larger the further you walk down the dock until you and Jin stop right next to a handsome, luxurious, multi-level boat. To you, it looked like a mini-yacht.

“Hyun!”

“Jin! Good to see you.” The man gives him a handshake.

“Everything check out well?”

“Oh yeah. She’s good to go–you picked a perfect day to take her out,” he says.

“By the way, this is my girlfriend, YN. YN, this is Hyun–the shipwright here at the marina. He takes care of most of the boats out here.”

“Especially Jin’s,” he says with a chuckle as he shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled at him.

“Well–she’s got a full tank and ready to cast off when you are!”

Jin thanks Hyun, leaving you to ogle at this gorgeous piece of engineering in front of you.

“What do you think?”

“Uh–wow…it’s–fantastic!”

He shrugs, nonchalantly. “Yeah. It’s too bad I haven’t had time to take her out much these days. Every now and then, I’ll rent it out just so she can get her licks in.”

“I…I thought your boat was the one that you took me and my dad out to that time?”

“Ah, that’s my fishing boat. This…well…was a little treat for myself,” he said.

A treat? When you wanted to buy yourself a “treat,” you either got yourself a new pair of shoes or an indulgent slice of mille-crepe cake–which was a splurge in and of itself.

He helps you aboard and casts off shortly before boarding himself.

He leads you up to the expansive, shaded, cockpit level. The first thing that greets you is a plush, seating area with a small, wooden table in the center–perfect for entertaining or lounging around. Behind the seat facing the back of the boat is a small wet bar and beyond that are more plush loungers.

He takes you in further to the front of the boat.

“This is the helm, right here,” he says. “C’mon, have a seat,” he says as he pats the captain’s chair. You oblige as you were low-key excited, marveling at all of the controls and screens that you knew nothing about–but were no less impressed by them.

You stare at the steering wheel in front of you and give him a look as your fingers hovered over it.

He smiles. “Go ahead–put your hands on it.” And you do so, excitedly.

The helm included double seats and came equipped with flip-up bolsters and arm rests. As you glance at each feature on the console, you feel him rest his chin on the crook of your neck, pointing out and gently describing each dial, throttle, and joystick on the control panel.

Afterwards, he takes your hand to lead you down a set of stairs.

“There’s more?”

“Oh yeah–you haven’t seen anything yet!”

At the foot of the stairs, is a small kitchen with a cooktop and a microwave. You travel down a narrow hallway to where the staterooms are located. From the outside, it didn’t look like it had this much room below deck.

“It sleeps about 5-6 people comfortably,” he says as he shows you the smaller rooms. There’s a full bathroom at the end of the hall complete with a sink and shower.

“The master suite is right here–” he says as he pushes the second to last door, right before the bathroom.

You look inside and you are greeted by a plush bedroom with a king-size cabin bed. The interiors are covered in dark wood–like a hotel room–that floated on water.

“I haven’t been in here since I remodeled it,” he muses.

“Hmm–maybe we can christen it,” you suggested playfully.

A slow smile creeps across his lips. “Be careful what you wish for,” he says as his eyebrow quirks up slightly. “But that’ll have to wait–for now, do you want to take her for a quick spin?”

“Me?” you asked incredulously. “Do you have a death wish?”

He laughed heartily. “Ah–well…I’m sure it’s much safer than being out on the water with Namjoon and Jungkook.”

As he guides you back up to the cockpit, he tells you an anecdote of the first times he took out the boat shortly after he got his advanced sailing license, inviting Namjoon and Jungkook onboard to celebrate. He glosses over a few details but it ends with a distress call and the coast guard towing them back to the marina.

“Don’t worry–it’s been a few years since then,” he assures you as he takes the captain’s seat once more, prompting you to take the seat next to him.

He sits at the controls, presses a button, and the engines roar into life.

Slowly, Jin eases his boat out of her berth and toward the marina entrance.

He glances over to you and motions you to take his seat. He gets up as you settle behind the wheel and instructs you to grab on to it. Placing his hands snugly over yours, he continues to steer your course out of the marina, and within a few minutes, you are out on the bay.

You couldn’t help but squeal in elation. Jin smiles as he feeds off your excitement. “Just keep her on this course,” he instructs as he stays close to you, guiding you towards your destination.

Half an hour later, you are anchored in a small, secluded cove a short distance from the city. Shortly after, Jin grabs your hand and practically drags you down into the master cabin.

As soon as you arrive below deck, he smashes his lips onto yours as he fumbles with the door handle. He tasted absolutely intoxicating as his deft fingers make quick work pulling your sweater over your head. He tosses it to one side and gazes intently down at you, eyes dark, pupils dilated.

He raises a hand to cup your jaw. His fingers move down your chin, your throat, your sternum. Your mouth ran dry. His breath was dragging, the rise and fall beneath your chest becoming more pronounced.

Lifting your head, you stared back into his eyes, pouring all the invitation into your gaze that you knew how. His plush lips parted as his gaze dropped to your mouth. His fingers travel from your sternum to your already too-heavy breasts and he goes to palm them, eliciting a deep sigh from you.

It seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. His lips sought yours, capturing them once more.

You closed your eyes, a whimper escaping your mouth as your arms snaked around his neck, urging him closer to you.

It felt like ages before his hand finally cupped the curve of your ass and it instantly sets your body aflame, coupled with the ache that had been pooling between your thighs ever since he asked you to take the wheel.

He urges you to lay on the mattress and once you were set down, he pulls off his hoodie and undershirt along with it before hovering over you. He dips down to lower himself to your lips again, his hand caressing your cheek and jawline gently.

But you wanted his hand in other places. You were an ounce of self-control away from shifting to try to coax it where you needed it most. Much to your delight, his hand slid down your body, stopping right on the waistband of your bottoms. You lift your hips to help him get them off you.

His fingertips drew back a few inches and slid just beneath the leg of your panties. You pressed closer and opened your mouth against his, dipping your tongue in to egg him on.

“I want you,” you begged.

Jin barely let you finish before he claimed your mouth again. He had your breath rasping through your lungs and your thighs shaking with need throbbing between them. You wanted to cry out in frustration when he moved his hand from your bottom, only to sigh when he brushed your right breast with the back of his knuckles. Your nipple hardened further, pushing against the lacy material. His other hand moved up into your hair, cupping your nape as his kiss turned ravenous.

Your bra strap slipped from your shoulder with a slow slide of his fingers, baring one breast that he wasted no time sinking his mouth onto. He was between your legs, his hard-on pressing against your crotch–a slow, torture that made you half-moan and half-growl with impatience.

He rolls his still-clothed cock against your clit until you thought you would push you over the edge right there. A couple of oh-so-easy adjustments and he could be inside you. Finally inside you. This was getting out of control. You were getting out of control.

You had to put a stop to this…or move it along quickly–you’re no longer sure.

“Too much?” he asked silkily, his voice a deep rumble at your back.

You groaned. “Not enough,” you breathed out candidly as you palmed his erection through his jeans.

He chuckles darkly as he pries your hand off his crotch. “I told you, we’ll have plenty of time for that.”

He hooked his fingers in your panties, sliding the delicate fabric down your bare legs.

He caught the back of your knee in one hand and pushed your legs open so wide your muscles trembled. He swipes a finger between your folds and you let out an audible gasp of pleasure.

“So wet and ready for me,“ he whispered, then he dipped his head until the warmth of his mouth covered you. His tongue lined you, licking deeply at your core.

The room spun. Your hands fly into his dark strands–fisting at his scalp.

“Fuck…yes,” you moaned as he kept up his oral assault, prompting you to shamelessly buck your hips into his mouth.

He applies gentle pressure on your clit with his thumb while he circled it with the tip of his tongue bringing you closer to your climax.

“You taste so good,” he whispers before darting his tongue back into your slick.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, jaw slackened as your breaths turn ragged.

“I’m close…don’t stop–fuck…don’t stop,” you drawled.

“Yeah? Let me hear you, baby,” he says before he wraps his lips around your aching bud and suckles on it gently–which was all you needed to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm slammed into you and you arched back, releasing a hoarse cry as you dug your nails into his shoulder, leaving small crescent shapes on his skin.

He gets up to pull his bottoms off then crawls up to you. As soon as you feel his weight on you, you pull his neck down to feast on his lips, tongues entwined–tasting traces of your arousal in the process.

Grasping your knee, he hitches your leg curling it around his waist. He then rolls you both over, making you gasp once you were on top of him.

You took him in your hand to line yourself up over him then slowly sank your hips lower, claiming him as yours.

He groans low in his throat, closing his eyes.

You draw out a deep moan at the the feel of him in you–stretching and filling you to the brim. He places his hands on your hips and moves you up, down, and pushes into me.

Oh…it feels so fucking good.

“Baby,” he whispers, and suddenly he sits up so you were nose to nose, and the sensation is…insane.

You gasped, grabbing his upper arms for support as he cups your face in his hands and gazes into your eyes.

“I love you, YN,” he murmurs and kisses me passionately, ardently. You kiss him back, dizzy with the feel of him so deep inside you.

“I love you…so much,” you murmured. He groans and rolls over once more without breaking contact, so that you lay beneath him. You wrap your legs around his waist.

You reach up to caress his cheek and very slowly, he starts to move, closing his eyes as he does and moaning softly.

The gentle sway of the boat and the peace and quiet tranquility of the cabin are broken only by your labored breaths as he slowly fucks in and out of you. He puts his arm under your head, to tilt your neck up slightly and meets you in the middle to kiss you.

Your hands grasp his lower back before moving down to squeeze his cheeks, urging his hips to thrust deeper into you.

Your pulse starts to raise with his steady rhythm until your body starts to tremble with that all-too-familiar feeling.

“You’re getting so tight–gonna cum hard for me?”

“Yes, god, yes–” you whined as your hips sync up with his movements.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby…sooo fucking good,” he moans into your ear.

It doesn’t take long for you to come completely undone underneath him. Watching you writhe in pleasure makes him sharpen his movements further, burying himself more fully inside you. The gasps lodged in your throat broke out in quick bursts when you couldn’t draw enough breath to scream.

“Fuck, YN–” he rasped as your walls clenched around him.

You locked your legs tighter around him and held on as your final contractions milked him of all restraint. His hips slammed forward, growling as he felt his release. His hair fell forward around his face and the veins stood out in his neck.

He eased himself out of you, his chest heaving as he retrieves a towel from the closet, cleaning you up. He lays next to you, hand smoothing up your arm, making you nuzzle into his chest.

He inhales your scent deeply before placing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“Do you want to head back?” He asks after a few minutes of laying in comfortable silence.

“Hmm–just a few more minutes, please?” You reply sleepily. You were spent, yes, but you just wanted to relish the peace and quiet. You’ve been through a lot in a short period of time–and truth be told, you hadn’t had many moments like this with him–not without having to look over your shoulder or waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It seemed like such a trivial thing–curling up to take a nap in the middle of the day with a significant other. But these were the type of things that you looked forward to experiencing more of…Ordinary experiences with an extraordinary person whom you loved and loved you back.

“Anything for you,” he utters as you both nod off to the gentle rocking of the vessel.

Part 10(finale)◥

Taglist: @deepseavibez @shameless-army @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @twogyuu @jakepralta @arisud @justmewondering-recs @taleasnewastime @se0kedinluv @bangtannoonalvg

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tera-artt · 2 years

Note

How do you feel about the game btw?

Security breach, well, I will definitely say that this is a wonderful fun adventure game that is conceived as a presentation of two sides. The main idea of the game itself not only fnaf lore and animatronics, it's not even suppose to be super scary. The idea that there's bright and beautiful with analogy on pretty side where people enjoying without seeing stuff and horrible trash side where the workers are suffering and there's actually horrible conditions. You can compare this with Titanic if it'll be convenient. The bright fancy, rich, safe, beautiful side above on the top and everything in gold and its beauty but deep inside you see horrible stuff with dirt, tired workers, bad environment, danger and terrible conditions

But you can't see that since you're on this bright side. So security breach show us both.

The game is laggy but it's understandable and tbh some lags adds fun, charm and become memes. Understandable because it's a small indi team that build a HUGE game just in 2.5 years. Imagine one tiny team makes something SO HUGE, it's just impossible to make everything perfect, it's like... idk, tell only 12 people made a Golden Gate Bridge in 2.5 years and it should be perfect and beautiful without any imperfections, and those people without any help doing this. And then people yell at them that it's imperfect and scrappy, without looking that this bridge was made by freaking 12 people instead of 10000.

So I'm enjoying this game a lot even though it's laggy and some issues with it's lore but love how adventurous it is, it's something different from usual fnaf and it's cool

#fnaf #security breach #fnaf security breach #ask #anon

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humanwritesviolations · 4 years

Text

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to head into the vault, to dig up some shit from years in the past.

Lemme just grab my shovel and...just a little...no no I got it it's fine...man, this is heavy with opinions, I bet it's a beaut!

...hmm, ranting about white folks. Well, whatever sticks to the wall, I guess. Roll 'em.

Representation

Dated: 3 years ago

Source: Dropbox

As a white man, I'm tired of listening to white men's stories.

Every time I watch TV or a movie, I'm subjected to and bombarded with story after story of Rich White Man, Scrappy White Man, Underdog White Man, Clever White Man, Brilliant White Man, Genius Scientist White Man, Unruly Doctor White Man, Tough Cop White Man, Strong Capable White Man.

White man, white man, white man, white man, white man.

If I wanted to hear a story about a white man, I would talk to most of the people I interact with at work, or in my social group, or on the internet, or literally anywhere in my life. I have four brothers and dozens of cousins, a bunch of friends and a lot of coworkers. The sum total percentage of white men in my life is probably around 80.

So why do I also need Christian Bale's Batman, Robert Downey Jr's Iron Man, Finn Jones's Iron Fist, Benedict Cumberbatch's Dr. Strange and Sherlock, Hugh Laurie's House M.D., Mark Hamill's Luke Skywalker, Harrison Ford's Indiana Jones, Henry Cavill as Superman, Andrew Garfield and Toby Maguire as Spider-Man and about a thousand others I could name? Yes, I get that most of these characters are iconic and timeless and are being brought to life on the big screen, some for the first time and others for the fiftieth, but why are these stories so interesting that they need to be told and retold? What makes these characters so compelling while others are left to the side?

The Avengers are full of almost as many white men as Congress. Where is my Black Widow movie? When do we get to explore Falcon's story? Is Nick Fury (thank you to Avengers Ultimate, by the way, for going a different route with him in the first place) ever going to have some light shine on his background?

And don't get me started on "people don't want non-white male superheroes." Jessica Jones was heavily lauded by critics and views alike, and sits at 93%/90% on Rotten Tomatoes for critic/viewer response, respectively. When Luke Cage was released, it broke Netflix. BROKE. NETFLIX. It's at 96% Fresh.

And what about non-superhero stories? Well, Luther is 90% Fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, and Idris Elba is about 150% Fresh in real life.

Even if you say that the protagonist doesn't matter, that it's the writers or the producers or the actors that make it good and not whether the star is white or black or male or female, I would agree with you - and say that if it doesn't matter, stop stacking the deck with white guys. Nick Fury was a J. Jonah Jameson lookalike in the original comics, minus the Hitler-stache, and now he's Samuel L. Jackson. You don't get cooler than that, and we're talking about a guy whose actual name is FURY. To be fair, who better to play him?

But if it doesn't matter in one direction, it doesn't matter in every direction - get us some representation.

"Sure," you might say, "but what about video games?"

Alright, let's compare apples to apples. Let's take a game that was well regarded and compare it to its sequel - I'm talking, of course, about Watch Dogs. Mainly because it's a good example, but also because I've played both of them.

Watch Dogs, starring the absolutely wooden Aiden Pearce doing his best impersonation of Christian Bale's Batman minus the charisma, clocks in at 80% on Metacritic. That's a pretty good score - I've paid full AAA price for games that rated lower than that. Its sequel stars Marcus Halloway, a young black hacker aspiring to follow in similar footsteps as our aforementioned hacker vigilante, who starts off his story by exhibiting personality traits such as humor, emotion and the ability to talk to other people without outward brooding. I've read a lot of user reviews that claim tokenism, calling out the game as a "cuck-liberal fantasy" that "drinks the Kool-Aid" to "wash down the blue pill" and other such terms intended to write off a thing as being too inclusive.

It scored 82%.

Now, you could make the argument that every aspect of the game was improved, and that you don't care about the characters or their backgrounds/races/nationalities. You could argue that it's a better game because of the gadgets, or the missions, or the story, or the UI or anything else. You'd have a good point - but you would be missing mine.

I'm not saying a black protagonist made for a better game. I'm saying that a game with a black protagonist WAS a better game. I'm saying that representation does not automatically turn off the audience. I'm saying that you can make a thing starring a not-white/male character and have it work.

But yes, I'm also saying that Marcus Halloway is a three-dimensional character while Aiden Pearce is a lifeless stawman. "Brooding white guy" is not cool anymore. It's boring. It's samey. I didn't care about Aiden, I didn't care about his strained relationship with his sister, I didn't care about his guilt over his niece.

I cared more about the drunken did-they-didn't-they one-night stand Marcus had prior to the opening credits of the sequel than I did about Adrian's entire story in the original.

I don't need another white guy hero. I don't want to see the trials of a rich white guy, or a scrappy white guy. Show me the struggles of a Chinese man. Show me how a black woman deals with life in her neighborhood. Show me what it's like to live a day in the life of a Mexican teenager. What's going on with the woman in Sub-Saharan Africa whose cousin was just arrested for a crime they didn't commit? How does a slice of Syrian life look in 1987? Afghanistan in 1998? Egypt in the 1960's? Zimbabwe at the turn of the century? Give me something interesting. Give me something original. Give me something new.

Give me something I haven't seen before.

And maybe give someone else a hero for a change.

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maychorian · 5 years

Note

Ooooh I'm wondering if Jason even wants to be robin, cause after trauma like that I doubt he's ready to go out to fight crime (or is he gonna be motivated instead???) hmmmm, but I think Tim is gonna be more motivated to become robin tbh, he's gonna want to protect Jason and fight bastards like Pittman (is Jason gonna be like 'oh hell naw' seeing Tiny Tim ready to FITE and be like nope im gonna be robin) hmmmmmmmmmmmm

Yeah, that’s what I’ve been thinking about. I kinda like the idea of Jason NOT being Robin, tbh. Batman making him Robin was always the sketchiest of the Robin-making decisions. Dick was out on the street looking for his parents’ killer and wouldn’t take no for an answer, Tim demanded to be Robin because Batman needed help, and Damian demanded to be Robin because he saw it as his right. Even Stephanie actively SOUGHT Bruce’s mentorship and was delighted when he gave her the Robin identity, however brief it ended up being.

Batman just sort of…decided that Jason should be Robin, shortly after he fired Dick because he got shot in the arm and Bruce was worried about things getting too dangerous. It didn’t really make sense from a logical standpoint to replace an eighteen-year-old with a twelve-year-old because he thought things were MORE DANGEROUS. Thing is, I don’t think it was a logical decision at all. Bruce was getting lonely working alone after he drove Dick away, and he found this scrappy new kid who he adored and wanted to spend more time with, so he decided that THIS would definitely work. Because Jason had “instincts” and was “tough.” (As if Dick didn’t have instincts and toughness.) So yeah, it made no sense, and Dick was pretty justified in being upset about it.

(In a retcon, Bruce and Dick split up because Dick’s commitments were split between Gotham and the Titans, and Bruce was tired of Dick showing up late to crises and basically told him to just stop showing up at all. So that made slightly more sense, that they just sort of grew apart and Bruce decided Dick needed to grow up without him and without the Robin costume. But then Bruce, like, went out and kidnapped Jason immediately and made him into Robin in like a month, it seemed like, rather than the six months or a year in the original version, so I don’t think it’s better.)

This is not to say that Jason did not enjoy being Robin. He was super excited about it, and he said things like “Being Robin makes you magic.” He loved beating up criminals and being a hero. Jason Todd in the live-action Titans is a great embodiment of that attitude. He sees it as a big thrill, pretty much the best job in the universe, and he doesn’t get why that Dick Grayson would ever leave it behind.

But Jason in Through the Walls… Yeah. I don’t know if he would even want to be Robin, or if Bruce would even offer it to him. Obviously he’ll offer to train Tim and Jason in self-defense, both to help them feel better and because Gotham is a dangerous city even (or maybe especially) for civilians.

I’ve also considered that maybe the boys would have a discussion about how “Batman needs a Robin” and Jason sort of reluctantly saying “I guess I could,” and Tim instantly retorting, “No, I’LL DO IT, YOU STAY SAFE” because Tim in Through the Walls is incredibly and overwhelmingly protective of Jason.

But I’m kind of in love with the idea of Jason as Robin being attacked by Damian, followed by Tim, dressed as a civilian and therefore ignored by Damian as no threat, instantly going berserk and taking Damian down with, like, a single neck chop.

I dunno. Both scenarios are very appealing to me.

#through the walls #Anonymous

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reddhoodie · 6 years

Note

I wanna here more about you're genderswapped au! Like, how the girls compare to their canon counterparts in terms of appearance and dynamic with each other and civilian life! I'm just really interested, and I loved your fic!

(I’m so sorry it took me forever to answer this- I wanted to wait until I was on my computer instead of mobile.)

First of all I’m so glad you enjoyed the fic! I really loved writing in that AU and definitely plan to do some more. As for the girls! (This got long so it’s under the cut.)

Brooke Wayne was a pretty average little girl, with her mother’s wavy black hair and her father’s blue eyes.

Growing up and training herself to become a crime fighter, she had to kind of play up the idea of being really into fitness to keep anyone from thinking it was weird that she was built more like an Olympic athlete than a model.

As far as the public is aware, Brooke is a slightly ditsy but well-meaning heiress with an obscene amount of money to blow on frivolous things like bedazzled sports cars. Unlike Bruce Wayne, who’s playfully referred to as a ‘playboy’, she’s more frequently referred to as a ‘slut’.

Her alter ego is still known as Batman, since the armor makes it hard to tell she’s a woman. She doesn’t mind, it’s that much more protection for her actual identity.

When Brooke first adopted Dixie Grayson she was this skinny little acrobat child doing flips everywhere. She had this absolute mop of deep brown hair so dark it looked black with curls going every which way. Alice was the only one who could tame it before important functions or school, otherwise her hair was forever a mess, because she was an active kid.

She had barely turned twelve when puberty hit her like a truckload of bricks. The media took notice immediately and in their eyes she wasn’t a kid anymore, and all that that implies. She was subject to a lot of objectification and some outright predatory behavior. Brooke, having been forced to grow up young herself, didn’t really know what was normal for a kid her age to be involved with, and Dix did some modeling as a preteen and teen, which didn’t help.

Brooke was able to shelter her from most of the worst of it, but it was still a major formative experience for her. She leaned even more heavily on her role of Robin, since no one ever called Robin ‘jailbait’ or commented on her curves.

That stress, combined with some other factors, led to the ‘rough patch’ (understatement) she and Brooke hit in their relationship. When Dix was 17/18 she left the manor, dropped out of the public eye entirely, and became Nightwing.

Dixie as an adult is curvy, and is mostly at peace with that. She’s still got very curly hair but since she wears it much longer (like to her waist, or longer), the curl is a little less obvious. As Nightwing she usually wears it in a ponytail, braid, or pinned up somehow.

A couple of years after Dixie left, Brooke ran into a scrappy street kid named Jaycee Todd who tried to steal the tires from the batmobile.

Baby Jay was skinny too, but not like Dix had been. She wasn’t lean muscle, she was malnourished and small. After living in the manor for a while she picked up some weight, but remained pretty small. She had straight black hair she’d cut herself, and it never looked brushed. Never. Alice would brush it out for her and five minutes later it looked like a mess again. It drove Jay crazy so she eventually got it cut pretty short.

Dix and Jay were wary of each other at first, but since Dixie was afraid Jay would have a childhood like hers had been, she took it upon herself to try and be some kind of older sister to protect her. Jay resisted that at first since it mostly consisted of Dix telling Jay what to do. But they both began to settle into a mostly sisterly relationship after a while.

In direct contrast to Dix, Jaycee didn’t really hit puberty until she was almost sixteen, and even then she stayed pretty small and skinny. Her knees and elbows were always bruised, and her hand-me-downs from Dix were pinned so they wouldn’t fall off her frame. She was often mistaken for a boy.

But then, Jaycee died.

The Lazarus pit had a dramatic effect on her besides just bringing her back to life. She’s as tall as Brooke, and twice as bulky. She’s built like a champion weight lifter, wide and strong and muscular. Her hair, once thin and straight, is thick and wavy, with a shocking white streak right in the front. She wears it in a braid wrapped up under her helmet, and keeps it long. Occasionally she’s still mistaken for a guy, but only when she’s in her full Red Hood gear since she’s more bulky than curvy and doesn’t have much chest to speak of.

After Jay died, Kimberly Drake showed up at Brooke’s doorstep.

Kim was smaller than Dix or Jaycee had been, not an athlete and well fed her whole life, so she was always softer than the two of them had been as kids. Her hair was long and usually braided or in a ponytail, with a bright ribbon tied into it that she hated but her mother insisted on.

Once she became Robin she desperately wanted her hair cut, but her parents wouldn’t allow it (and she couldn’t exactly explain to them just why she suddenly wanted her hair chopped off). So, she smashed some bubblegum into it and told her parents she’d fallen asleep with gum in her mouth. After two hours trying to comb the gum out, her parents relented, and she got it all chopped off into a cute little pixie cut.

Currently Tim is still smaller than her older sisters, although she has a fairly large chest that she gets embarrassed about, so she tends to wear baggy shirts to avoid comments. She let her hair grow out just long enough to curl again, so to about chin length.

And then eventually, just after everything was settling down after Jay came back and all that, Talin (aka genderswapped Talia) showed up with Damian Wayne and was like ‘here’s our daughter enjoy’.

First of all, the reason why Damian is still ‘Damian’ in this AU is because of @identityconstellations headcanon. Long story short it was because Ra’s wanted her to be a boy and so when she was a girl they called her Damian anyway basically to remind her that she’s not what they wanted.

The family mostly calls Damian ‘Dami’, to separate the name from the way she was treated with the League, and just because it’s a natural nickname.

She looks and acts shockingly like Brooke, but has Talin’s green eyes and catlike physique (so far…she’s only thirteen). Her hair is mostly straight but gets wavy when it’s wet or if it’s humid. Dami keeps it shoulder length because she insists it’s more practical.

No one is allowed to mess with her hair, except Alice and Dix. She’ll allow Brooke to brush it but expect a lot of fussing over it, or a scowl while her mother works. She insists she’s old enough for makeup but Brooke disagrees.

I hope this is enough detail on their appearances n’ stuff- I hope to draw all of them at some point to really illustrate the details of how I imagine them. I love talking about this AU so feel free to ask about anything. :>

(Their relationships are pretty much the same as in canon, but maybe with tweaks here and there.)

#genderswapped au #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne

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stephicness · 7 years

Note

Hey there :3 I totally love your hc/scenarios, they are awesome! Bc I'm Ravus trash (xD) I wanted to request smth - like how would he react, if he fell in love with his childhood friend (who also serves the Nifs army and secretly has a crush on him as well)? How would he confess/first kiss/first time/whatever xD :3 pretty please

Why, hiya there to you, dear anon! c: Many thanks foryour comments. I’m super glad that you enjoy my writings! It really warms myheart knowing that. qUq

But hm… For your question, I normally have a hardertime answering these ones because I’m not exactly the significant otherdescribed, so I can’t really gauge what they would say in the moment sinceeveryone’s different. But let me try to tell you a story of a childhood friendship and romance~ A long one, so look under the read more!

Ravus Nox Fleuret twenty years ago, the young prince ofTenebrae. A bright young child many years ago, a musical prodigy some say aswell, and a mama’s boy. He often had a hard time making friends when attendingthe private school his father enrolled him into, and he often kept to himself.He wasn’t particularly well-liked among his classmates, but he at least tendedto his studies while also balancing out his responsibilities as the prince andas the future heir of the throne of Tenebrae. He always did his best to servethe needs of his kingdom and to make his parents proud. Even at eight yearsold, Ravus was a studious kid. Never interacting with the world unless itinteracted with him. A lonely world of responsibilities that would have drivenany child insane.

And yet there was one person that managed to keep himsane. The only person who seemed to bother ever visiting him was a youngservant from the kitchens – no more than a year or two younger than Ravus wasbut already working so hard to serve the Fleurets. The child servant would alwaysdrop by whenever Ravus was in the study practicing the piano. A bright andtoothless smile they wore, a pleasant and happy aura around them that wouldilluminate even through the darkest of times. They always did their best tosneak in and slide a different pastry every day over to Ravus. Just enough forthe prince to catch the pastry out of the corner of his eyes before he ceasespracticing. And just like every morning, he’s greeted with a bright and cheery‘Mornin’ Prince Ravy!’

He couldn’t help but frown in return. It’s Ravus, not Ravy.

At first, Ravus was curious as to why the servant was sohappy to interact with the prince, considering that his routine was so strictthat he couldn’t afford to socialize with someone as lowly as a servant. Especiallyone as dirty as they were. Covered in flour and cake batter most the time,always with some sort of bandage around their fingers. Ravus honestly didn’twant anything to do with them. He just wanted to get back to playing the pianobefore his instructor would scold him for not practicing. But it seemed likethey wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. The merely strolled on over afterpushing the pastry toward Ravus before they sat on the piano stool next to himand poked at the keys.

“Lady Sylla wants you to eat. But they didn’t make itpink enough.” The servant smiled again, scooting the pink cupcake to Ravuseagerly. “I made it! Extra frosting. ‘Cause Lady Sylla said you like it!”

“It is Queen Sylva.”

“Lady Sylla. Right!”

The young prince frowned. What a scrappy kid. But itseemed like they just had a hard time pronouncing his mother’s name. Lady Sylva.But he wasn’t going to be able to correct them any time soon either. Ravusmerely let out a sigh, taking the cupcake before he licks off some of thefrosting from it. The prince stopped, looking down at the cupcake with big eyesbefore he looks to the servant. That dumb smile never left the child’s face asthey watched in return. The prince quickly turned away, stuffing the cupcakeinto his mouth and devouring it like a predator attacking its sugary pink prey.

“Ya like it?!” Ravus gave a quick nod, face stuffed withthe pastry and mouth covered with pink frosting. The servant grinned andbounced happily in their seat. “Imma make you one for breakfast every day then!Okay, Ravy?”

Ravus glanced away, swallowing the cupcake finally as hewiped away the cupcake with his fingers. “…Maria told me I am not allowed tohave sweets.”

The servant placed a finger over their lips as amischievous smile formed. “Just don’t tell ‘em then.”

The sneaky pink breakfast cupcakes became a routine astime passed. First, it was a rather strange nuisance of having to hide from thepiano instructor whenever the pastry chef-in-training would visit with cupcakesand other pastries. But the more the servant would visit, the more Ravus beganto value the morning pastries with them. They would end up sitting there andtalking about nothing or everything. Rarely was there ever an in-between. Thecompany was pleasant, and it was nice to have a chance to not be alone with hisown thoughts. Sure, sometimes the thoughts of annoyance would come to mind asthe servant would go on for hours about their dislike for pastries withoutcolorful sugar or chocolate on them. But if they were willing to sit there andlisten quietly as Ravus practiced the piano, he could at least give them thechance to talk about pastries.

And despite having many topics to talk about, not oncedid the pastry deliverer question or judge the prince for his status. Yes,they’d have to refer to Ravus as ‘Prince,’ but it seemed that ‘Ravy’ stuck moreas a nickname than the title of Prince. Ravy and the little servant would merelyspend their time together for the next eight years after their fateful cupcakeexchange.

Eight years, and Ravus had become a young man ready tostart learning more about the crown and the chance to aid his sister and motherin their duties as Oracle. Sixteen years old and ready to become king already.A noble boy and one that was respected and admired for his dedication to hisfamily. And as he grew older, his friendship with the servant grew as well.Their morning pastries were matched with afternoon snacks, evening walks,weekend hanging out, and so much more. The servants in the castle began tothink that the young man spent more time with the servant than he did playingthe piano anymore. Not that Sylva or the others really minded. It was ratherpleasant to see the prince of Tenebrae finding a friend he cared about. Someonethat he adored. Someone that he… Loved.

No… It couldn’t be that. Could it? The prince could only shakehis head of the thought and quickly go back to his studies.

Until one day, when Sylva and Ravus sat together as theyoung boy showed his mother the composition he was practicing, there was a softknock on the study’s door, followed by the faint sound of sniffling. Silva gotup, answering the door and looking down at the tiny servant. The smile theservant usually wore was broken and weary as poofy and teary eyes looked at upat the queen and held the pink cupcake up to her. “’G-Good morning, yourmajesty. I-I brought Ravy breakfast!”

The sound of the servant’s cracked voice caused theprince to stop playing the piano, quickly getting up before going over to hisfriend. He hesitated, trying to make sense of the saddened look on the servant’sface. But when he looked up to Sylva as if begging her to do something aboutthe tears, Sylva merely nudged her head at Ravus. She would be disappointed ifhe didn’t do something. So Ravuscarefully avoided crushing the cupcake in the servant’s hands before he wrappedhis arms around them and pulled them into a strong and comforting hug. Sylvasmiled at the two, kissing the top of Ravus’s head before she let the two be.

Ravus let out a sigh, rubbing the servant’s back beforehe guided them to go sit down. “What happened? Why are you crying?” He had totake the cupcake from his companion, or at least, what was left of it. With howtightly the servant crushed the pastry, there was little left of it. He merelytook out a small handkerchief and began to wipe away the remnants of thecupcake mess from their hands.

“My dad told me that I’m not allowed to see you again…” Ravuspaused at their words, looking up with a shocked expression. What…? “He said thathe was okay with it at first, but not anymore. He said that he wants to quitserving the Fleuret family and leave tomorrow.”

“But… But you can’t. The party for King Regis and PrinceNoctis is tomorrow.”

“Dad says I’m not allowed to go tomorrow. He even slammedhis hand on the table and yelled at me too…”

Ravus frowned, shaking his head as he wiped off the pinkthat now stained his friend’s skin. He seemed to press a bit too hard whiledoing so, but they didn’t say anything about it. “You can’t just leave and stopserving my family. And you can’t just spring this news onto me without anynotice. It is foolish, and you can’t simply just leave!”

“I don’t want to leave either.” They pressed the back oftheir wrist to their eyes, the tears just continuing to fall. This was thefirst time in eight years that they’ve known each other that Ravus had seenthem cry. “I just wanna be here with you, and-and cook for you like usual. Andhang out with you. And just stay with you. And-And…!” They choked on theirwords by this point, their sobbing turning into a near wail of sadness as theypressed their palms to their eyes to cease the tears. “I don’t wanna lose you!”

Ravus’s gaze hung low, the prince becoming quiet as hiscompanion wept. He didn’t want them to leave either. Eight years of theirbonding, and Ravus couldn’t even see the color pink without thinking of theservant that he would spend his days with growing up. With them leaving, thatwould mean no more spending the mornings talking until his piano instructor yelledat them both, no more of them sneaking by Ravus’s room and lazing about untilRavus grew tired of his studies and lazed about with them, no more pinkcupcakes or smiles from the pastry chef. No more of them… Ravus felt his frowngrow deeper before he wrapped his arms around his crying friend and squeezingthem as tight as he could.

“I command you stay here. You must stay. You are notallowed to go.” Ravus frowned before he pulled back and looked down at thepastry servant. “What if you snuck away during the party tomorrow? We couldhide you away, or perhaps I will tell your father that you are ordered to stayhere. With me.”

They sniffled, whipping their eyes with the back of theirarm. “You can do that…?” Ravus’s face twisted. He probably couldn’t, but hecould still try. But before he could reply, two arms wrapped themselves aroundRavus. Surprised at the gesture at first, Ravus returned the embrace, restinghis head on their shoulder. “I hope you do! I don’t wanna leave. Who else willeat my cupcakes?”

The prince let out a chuckle, looking down at the servantwith a soft smile. “We will find a way for us to be together still, so do notlose hope. After all, I cannot imagine myself not having my morning cupcake.Pink frosting and all.”

“You promise? You promise that we’ll get to be together?”

Ravus nodded in response, leaning closer before placing akiss on top of the servant’s forehead. “I promise.”

The servant ended up laughing with excitement and joybefore they hugged Ravus once again, nuzzling their face into his chest. “Ilike you the most! You’re the best, Ravy.”

Ravus paused for a moment, his cheeks reddening slightlybefore he hugged them in return, placing another light kiss on top of theirhead. “I like you the most too…”

The high commander suddenly blinked hard as his attentionfinally came back to reality. He had lost track of time, it seemed. The momentpassing in the mere blink of an eye as he pondered on what seemed like aneternity ago. Ravus’s eyes faltered, turning down towards the ground as hestood in his place. He wished the moment would have been frozen in time, histhoughts to recollect the past, to cherish it. But it felt like time alwaysmoved forward. A pity that such innocence was left in the past.

And so, he stood there, the bouquet of pink roses tuckedinto his arm as he carried the small box in the other. He had the moment tospare that morning to visit them. To see them once again after so long. A longyear of hardships and trials that challenged Ravus and pushed him to nearlybreaking. And yet, here he was. He was there, surviving, alive and well. Helooked down, giving a small nod before he set the flowers on top of the marbleheadstone stepped back. He held the box in his hands, staring down at theheadstone. Silent. Quiet like his mornings have been for the past twelve years.But this time, it feels deafening. The high commander felt his breath shaken ashe exhaled and took a seat in front of the headstone. With shaken hands, he openedthe box, taking out one of two cupcakes and setting it down in on top of thememorial. The other he took for himself, but both were covered in bright pinkfrosting.

It wasn’t quite the same as before…

Ravus let out a small sigh, putting the cupcake pack intothe box as he hung his head once again. He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have tried to relive this moment again. It would never be the same. He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have made their friendship a routine. He shouldn’t have told the servant to come with him to the party. If he hadn’t done that, then maybe Ravus would have kept his promise. He could have done something more. He could have kept them by his side, to have them nearby, to tell them that after all this time… The commander shook his head, closing his eyes as he gripped the box tighter.

“I’m sorry… But I promise: we’ll get to be together soon.”

#asks #dear anon #final fantasy xv #ffxv #ravux nox fleuret #ravus #stephic writings #welp #i tried to be happy #i failed #my heart hurts now #*ugly sobbing*

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