#and someone dies cause a ladder vanishes from the pool

[pinknatural]

my sims movie pitch is it should be like genuinely a normal rom com but the words are all in simlish

[justwritingscibbles]

Wilford Warfstache Commission

Heya Lovelies! 

Here is my completed fluff commission for @breebrielle with her OC Nova and Wilford Warfstache. 

Warnings: Mentions of blood and guns

If you’d like a Commission please first look at my Commission Rules Page. I am holding reserves for commissions until I complete a few more pieces of writing. 3 slots remain.

This week had been a disaster.

The studio was a chaotic tornado of producers and assistants and everyone in between. Papers were scattered over the ground, hurriedly being picked up by those that dropped them. Coffee stained shirts were hastily covered up with jackets and scarves. And rushed greetings were merely quick nods and glances of mild sympathy. Nova stood by the studio entrance with a look of transfixed confusion. Her morning beverage held in her left hand and the paperwork from the previous week was held tightly against her chest.

She didn’t dare take a step forward until there was a break in the rushed traffic of bodies. She caught glimpses of pale expressions and terrified eyes almost wide enough that they’d fall out. It wasn’t usual to see this many people bustling around like this. Especially since it was the end of the week. They rushed to get whatever they failed to do during the week prior done. And done quickly so they didn’t have to have overtime or pass over to the weekend. Nova sighed heavily and started to zig-zag her way through the crowd. Barely managing to hold onto her beverage and not spill it on herself while people rushed past her.

The safety of her office was only a turn away. And the sweet, quiet and none crowded room was a relieving thought. At least she could take a quick break to enjoy her drink and possibly read through the missed emails. However, Nova wasn’t so lucky. In the crowd that swarmed around her, those that noticed her, gave her a relieved look. A particularly new producer was the first to greet her. Looking on the verge of tears when she came over. Catching Nova’s elbow just before she entered her office.

“Oh, thank God. You’re late!” The Producer gasped. And Nova had a chance to peer at her watch before being dragged into the fray of running people.

“I’m five minutes early.” Nova muttered. Almost tripping over her own feet as she was pulled through the endless halls and corridors. “What’s going on?”

“Wilford…” The Producer seemed too terrified to explain herself. But Nova didn’t quite need any more information. She knew Wilford could get… trigger-happy. But even then, the Ambulance would turn up and cart the wounded person away. Or someone else was called and would take the body away if the wound did more than bleed a little. After that, people moved on and carried on working like nothing else had happened.

But this was more than a gleeful bullet to the chest. Something else has happened. And before Nova could ask again, the Producer threw open the main studio doors and Nova was met with a sight that caused her drink to drop from her hands. Blood. Torn sets and broken equipment. Body bags lined up against the wall where men in dark clothing were carrying them through the back door and into the side alley outside. Wilford sat on the stage. Head bowed and gun still in his hand. Loosely dangling from his fingers as his shoulders slowly rose and fell with gentle, deep breaths.

“He’s been like that for a while now.” The Producer whispered to Nova. She had stepped behind Nova, as if about to use her as a shield. “He…He was fine when he came in to read the scripts for the next episode. But then… I don’t know. He just pulled out his gun and killed everyone in the room.”

Nova frowned. Her stomach was churning and she felt light-headed. I’ve already been through enough this week… Why did he have to go through a slaughter on a Friday? Nova thought to herself.

Nova wasn’t a producer or a script writer. She had been hired at first as a personal assistant for one of the editors of the Studio. Eventually, she found out that the Studio was running five different shows. All cast with one man. And she ended up working for all of the editors of each show. Getting them coffee, running between their offices with manuscripts and copied notes from their partnering editor. She only met Wilford six months into her employment and Nova quickly found herself as Wilford’s right-hand girl. Not entirely sure how or why, other than that they got on very well and occasionally Nova brought donuts in for everyone. She climbed the ladder of the Studio in a matter of days. Going from getting people coffee, to giving Wilford gentle suggestions on his shows or performances. Assuring editors they wouldn’t be shot for a spelling mistake and hurrying people out of Wilford’s way when he was in that mood of his. Nova was nowhere near confident enough to get in front of a camera, or outwardly snark at Wilford for shooting someone. She was content sticking to the shadows and giving Wilford the thumbs up anytime he hit a snag on his lines. 

But this was new.

Nova had never seen him kill more than his weekly quota of one employee and four contestants. This was at least four weeks’ worth of bodies. How on Earth was she going to manage this much paperwork? The Producer had disappeared sometime during Nova’s little inner thoughts. And Wilford had moved his posture so he had his gun hand resting on his knee. Finger still dangerously near the trigger. From here, Nova could see his face. He looked tired. Sorrowful, almost. And the bright pink moustache was drooped. No longer as vibrant as it was before.

“W-Wilford?” Nova risked stepping forward. The smell of gunpowder from his gun was still a rich reminder to her. She hated his guns. Hated that he carried them everywhere! They were loud. Echoing in the Studio rooms and every time it went off, Nova was left shaking and needing to hide until her breathing had calmed. She was in no position to keep her composure if he fired that gun again. The massive room reeked of it, mixing with the hard spike of blood and bile. “Wilford what happened?”

He didn’t answer. That was worrying. Usually Wilford would be happy to rant or explain why he had hurt someone.

“They’ll come back. They always do.” Was his favourite excuse. And Nova had longed since given up trying to explain that when people died, they didn’t come back. He was like a child. Never expecting people to leave for too long. And that they’d always come back to him eventually.

“Wilford…” Nova had reached him now. Her steps were shaky and she didn’t dare touch him. She was still very unsure on how to approach this situation. Instead, she moved to sit beside him. Keeping a little distance between them in case Wilford didn’t want to be touched. But he didn’t move. His trigger finger was gently stroking the side of his gun. His eyes down-cast, unseeing, but staring at a pool of blood that was spreading slowly over the timber flooring.

Nova squirmed a little. She still clutched the paperwork against her chest. It had been last month’s ratings. And they were incredibly high compared to the former months. Thinking that this news would help stir a reaction, Nova showed Wilford the papers. Explaining the praises from critics and the high reactions from audiences. It excited Nova to see his eyes move from the blood to the papers. But he gave no other reaction. Sighing inwardly, Nova bundled up the paperwork against her chest again and tried her best to sound sympathetic. Her voice shook a little.

“Is there anything I can do?” Nova asked. Maybe he needed a pick me up. A nice sugary sweetie or caramel coffee with tablespoons of sugar.

This time, Wilford did not ignore Nova. He turned his eyes to her. A distant look crossing his face as he gazed at her. “You can’t do anything. You’re not Celine.”

The words dropped like daggers. Nova knew about Celine. She’s heard stories about her from the other workers. Maddened mutterings came from Wilford at times about Celine and it wounded her to hear venom come from this man when Nova’s only intentions was to help. But it was obvious he didn’t need her right now. His mind was fixed on another. Nova tried her best to sound calm. But being in the limelight of Wilford’s gaze right now was possibly more frightening than the gun that was clenched in his hands.

“Do you want me to leave?” Nova asked and Wilford twitched. Making her recoil when his knuckles turned white around the weapon. Nova didn’t wait for him to answer. She sprinted across the studio and burst through the doors.

She ran until she was in the lobby of the building. Panting, finding it hard to breathe. Other employees hurried over, crowding her. And she tried to push their worried hands away from her. She needed space. There was no air around her. They pressed too close and when she tried to push them away, they grabbed her hand and squeezed. Their concerned voices turning to mutterings in her ears.

“Get away from her.” The voice cut through the muttering crowd like a sword. And everyone seemed to vanish the moment Darkiplier stepped towards them. Nova ignored him as he approached. Concentrating on getting deep breaths into her lungs and slow exhales through her mouth. Dark kept silent beside her. Acting as a barrier between Nova and the worried onlookers that passed. No doubt Nova’s incapability to calm Wilford was even more worrying than the countless bodies Wilford had dropped.

She had been their last hope to get him working again. And now with a friend of Wilford’s in the building, people were starting to trickle out of the main room and disappear into their offices and studios. “What are you doing here?” Nova croaked. Her throat felt dry and the shakiness in her hands had worsened. Crinkling the paper she held in her clenched fingers. But Dark’s presence was something she could concentrate on.

He rarely came to the Studio. Whether he hated the building or being around Wilford, Nova wasn’t sure. She’s never spoken to Dark for more than a few minutes during her employment. But whenever Wilford acted out and no one could get him under control, Dark was the first to be notified. During her time here, its only happened once.

“I’m the one they call to organize body collections.” Dark offered as an explanation. And Nova made sense of that. She never questioned where the men dress in black came from or who called them. She was just always happy she wasn’t the one to call them.

“I’m sorry. I know Wilford went over his quota…” Nova didn’t have an excuse this time. The only big conversation Nova had ever had with Darkiplier was about Wilford’s new body quota. It kept him from killing or wounding too many people, and it was set as a challenge for the showman. If he kept it under the quota, he was rewarded. If he went over, something of his was taken away. Wilford answered to no one. And feared no one. But there was only one person that he would nod in reluctant agreement with; and that was Darkiplier. Wilford is like a child. Nova thought to herself. And Dark is the irritated, tired parent.

“I’ll deal with him. But right now, I need to talk to you.” Dark replied. He gestured for Nova to follow him, keeping to her side until they reached a secluded, unused office nearby.

Nova glimpsed many weird looks from other workers walking past. Sneaking a look at the infamous Darkiplier before he closed the door behind him. He gestured for Nova to sit in the chair across the desk, and Dark seated himself behind the table. Suddenly, Nova got a rush of anxiety. In this instant, Darkiplier looked like a CEO about to fire her over Wilford’s mishaps. Nova hoped she wasn’t about to get a scolding. She couldn’t take that right now.

“What do you know about Celine?” Dark asked.

The question caught Nova off guard. She had been given many warnings about speaking the woman’s name in Dark’s presence. Nova didn’t understand Dark’s link to Celine other than Mr. Bim’s words of “they are…very close…”

But from what Nova could gather, Celine was dead. Or at least has been missing for many years. Wilford and Darkiplier were a confusing lot so Nova very rarely gave thought to their personal lives. Not that she knew much about them in the first place. “I know… that her and Wilford were together once.” Nova said uncertainly. She did know that Celine had loved Wilford. But at that time, Wilford… hadn’t been Wilford. Again, Nova had to remind herself she knew almost nothing of her Boss other than his business life. Only snippets of information were given to her through gossip.

If Dark had found Nova’s answer amusing or irritating, he didn’t show it. But his hands were laid out in the desk, intertwined as he leaned forward to speak. “They were lovers once, yes. But their relationship fell apart due to a bad situation. Every so often, he is reminded of that. And he changes. It is best that you shut down the Studio until he recovers from this memory.”

“Shut down the Studio?” The words blurted out of Nova’s mouth in a flurry of shock. “That would lose us so much money! And the people here would be out of work.”

“It is in everyone’s best interest and safety to shut this building down until Wilford recovers.” Dark calmly replied. “You saw him. He’s on the verge of another killing. He will most likely fire at-”

Dark cut himself off suddenly. His eyes boring into Nova as he looked her over. She was currently running her hands through her blonde hair. Ruffling it up from its neatly preened style to a mess of waves and curls. She was panicking. The whole week had been nothing but paperwork and phone calls and emails trying to smooth over the last manslaughter and rumours from other studios. She’s stepped between lawyers and furious employees. Ushering Wilford out of the building until authorities came to take away the screaming persons. But not a single scar or blemish could be spotted on her. And Dark snapped his gaze up to meet Nova’s eyes.

“Has Wilford ever shot at you?” Dark asked. And Nova, again, was caught off guard. Her worried mutterings coming to a halt to stare at Dark.

“What? N-No. I’ve never given him a reason too.” Nova responded. Suddenly very fidgety under Dark’s cool stare. Why was he staring? It was making her very uncomfortable.

“Wilford never needs a reason to shoot someone.” Dark said. Almost absently, like he was thinking over his words.

Nova didn’t respond. She didn’t like how he leaned back in the desk chair and once again, looked her over. “You’ve worked closely with Wilford for months. And he has never harmed you? Even accidentally?”

Where was he going with this? “No. He once slapped my drink out of my hand while practicing for his show. He bought me ten other drinks to make up for it.”

Nova couldn’t hold Dark’s gaze. It was like an anvil pressing down on her shoulders. Making it hard to breathe again. The silence stretched and Nova had to concentrate on anything else but Dark. She looked around the room. It was fairly empty apart from unused filing cabinets and the desk. A few shelves lined the walls with old props and a few knick-knacks forgotten by the previous owner of the office. Nova didn’t remember if anyone ever used this room while she’s worked here.

“Would you like to go get something to eat?” Dark asked abruptly. And this time, there wasn’t just a stare, but a small gasp that escaped Nova’s lips. Surely, she misheard him. After all this time of almost ignoring her, like he did with everyone else in the building. He was asking for a lunch date? Maybe not a date, but an outing no less. And Nova had no words. Gasping like a fish out of water only to then blurt out suddenly;

“Oh, um… sure?” She replied. Like a switch in her brain suddenly was flicked.

And Dark smiled. A small patient grin, but no less a smile. And Nova has never seen him smile before. This entire conversation was… so wildly strange that Nova was starting to prefer sitting next to Wilford and his gun.

“Great. Come, then. I know a quiet café near here we can go to.” Dark stood and led the way out of the office. Nova hurriedly stood and followed him. Leaving the papers on the chair in the empty office. As if transfixed into doing so. She was so shocked by the sudden offer of lunch with Dark, that she didn’t notice the lobby was almost empty of people. But Wilford stood nearby, speaking with a few of the black clothed men. Studio workers rushed here and there, trying to stay as far away from Wilford as possible.

Nova didn’t notice him look over. But Dark did. Their eyes met, and Dark merely moved closer to Nova. His hand gliding over hers, so gently she felt nothing. But Wilford’s sudden flash of rage in his eyes told the other man that he saw everything. Dark had a car waiting outside. Nothing ridiculously fancy. But a casual car Nova could have imagined The Darkiplier driving around in. He held the door open for her, still wearing that small smile as she slid inside and he closed the door behind her.

The driver was hidden behind a tinted window behind the two front seats. The interior of the vehicle was luxurious to say the least. The leather was a dark colour, soft to the touch with not even a creak as Nova buckled herself in. Dark slid in beside her on the other side of the car and the driver opened the small window as the door closed. Dark spoke softly to the driver. Giving him the name of the café and with a gentle roar of the engine, the Driver pulled away from the Studio and onto the road. There was a heavy silence in the car as they drove. Nova wasn’t entirely sure what to say. She shouldn’t be going out to lunch right now. It wasn’t even time for lunch. Not that Dark actually invited her to lunch, but to get something to eat. Nova wasn’t even that hungry! And there was so much paperwork to do, and now with Wilford’s killing spree she would have a lot more to do! She closed her eyes for a moment. Trying not to think too much on it.

Maybe getting out of the Studio till things calmed down was good. Wilford was in no way fit to discuss the matter. And Dark would probably be a better person to talk too about getting everything back on track. He wasn’t in charge of the Studio, but he still held a vote on how it was run.

Nova sighed and Dark turned his gaze back onto her. “Stop worrying about the Studio. Wilford has run that building for years before you. It’ll be ok.” Not only was he taking Nova out for some café food, but now he’s comforting her? This day was just getting weirder.

“I know. But now I’m here, and now I’m the one everyone looks at whenever Wilford does something.” Nova replied. She then thought about the rating papers. It seemed so irrelevant now. This morning she was so excited to show Wilford. And now they were empty numbers.

And with the Studio possibly being shut down for a time, those ratings would lower quickly.

“Every time someone messes up. They come to me for protection from Wilford. Like I’m some sort of shield from his bullets. Which by the way, is such a horrible thing to do! Use someone else as a shield?! These people knew what they were getting into when they were hired. It’s in their contracts. In big, bold writing! And yet they still seem so surprised when Wilford shoots someone. And then I’m the one who gets yelled at because I let him have a gun! I’d really like to see them try and hide it from Wilford. The stupid man can sniff it out! No matter where I hide it, he gets it back!” Nova took a deep breath. Her outburst had all been one big exhale in a vomit of words and gestures. She didn’t feel any better, but it helped to get it off her chest. “I’ve even put that gun in a safe and thrown it into the river. An experiment of mine to see how far Wilford would go. When I returned from the river, Wilford had the gun in his holster and the safe was in my office.” Nova didn’t expect Dark to have an answer to that. She never figured out how Wilford did it. At this point in her career, someone could say he was magic and Nova would agree. Not even a glimmer of surprise in her expression.

“And now this. A slaughter over a girl who, I’m suspecting, broke his heart or disappeared. Which means that he’s probably going to do this again. And I’m going to have to deal with it…again.” Another sigh escaped Nova’s lips and she glanced at Dark. He hadn’t moved his eyes off of her. Allowing her to spew out the rant with no interruptions or even a disapproving glare. He waited a moment. Seeming to expect more to come out of her. But when she said nothing more, Dark placed a hand on Nova’s thigh, closest to her knee.

“You do a lot for my friend. And I’m grateful for your help. But you do burden yourself with a lot of the harsh side of this business. Especially the side of things you have no control over.” Nova fidgeted as Dark removed his hand. The sudden cool touch had shocked her thoughts into a gentle hum. It was a relief.

“Thank you. Why don’t you work at the Studio? You’re help would make a huge difference.” Nova had always wanted to ask Dark this. She wasn’t even sure what he did as a job, or if he had a job. All she knew about him was that he and Wilford were friends. Or what Nova would consider friends when they only spoke when a murder had occurred. And Wilford respected Dark enough that he didn’t riddle the suited man with bullets or have him thrown out. Even when he said something that Wilford clearly didn’t agree with.

“I’m more of a background man.” Dark replied, flicking imaginary flint from his trousers. “I don’t like being in the spotlight or working under somebody else. I run my own business elsewhere. But I have to keep my friend in line, so I’m never too far-away.”

If Nova didn’t know any better; there was a hidden meaning under Dark’s words. His gaze gave nothing away, and his answer was frustratingly vague. She expected him to explain that he ran his own law firm or maybe was an underground mob boss. He was always dressed so promptly, that Nova had a few guesses to what Dark worked as. But all she truly knew, was that he could take bodies away and no police would go sniffing around the Studio. Even lawyers were terrified to get Dark involved. An advantage Nova had used many times to get someone to shut up. She didn’t like scaring people into silence. But if she wanted to keep Wilford safe from people suing him or attempting to get him thrown in jail; Nova always politely mentioned Dark as her “next in line contact”.

Nova frowned, “You know. We never interact but I do use your name a lot. You said you don’t like the Studio, but you do have a lot to do with it.”

Dark appeared to find her words amusing. The smile stretched a little and his cool gaze warmed with hidden laughter. “I do enjoy the emails I get from people sent by you. Mostly law firms that have been redirected from you. A lot of the time, they don’t seem to believe that I’m in your contacts.”

Nova shrugged. She never considered Dark to be a close contact. Even if they didn’t talk, she did a lot of shooing of people towards Darkiplier. They never contacted her again. And it was relief, that when they did need to contact her about something, it was always overly polite. “To be honest, whenever I can’t get someone to leave Wilford alone, you are the next contact I give them. Sorry that I dump that on you. But you are kinda like my Bogey-Man.” Nova truly didn’t feel guilty. It was kind of thrilling having a name in her contact list that people seemed to fear.

She never wanted to know what Dark said or did to get people to basically run, tail between their legs, away from the Studio. “Don’t be. I find them entertaining to receive.” Dark replied. The car began to slow, pulling up alongside a street of cafes and bars. “Some people are too cocky to be in this sort of business. And it is… fun to watch that pride of owning a law firm or having the money to buy the best lawyers, crack under the pressure of a few small emails.”

“That…is terrifying…” Nova muttered under her breath. And Darkiplier smiled a grin that Nova never wanted to see again.

“I was born to be a villain, Nova. And I’m far too good at it to be polite.” Dark purred. Turning his gaze to the door as his Driver pulled into the parking spot and got out. The Driver then opened Dark’s door and the man smoothly stepped out. Waiting for Nova to scoot over to his side and offer his hand to help her out.

“I might use that line for our next show. If you don’t mind of course.” Nova wanted to keep the light heartedness intact. Tension made her nervous, and she was already on edge just being around Dark. Not knowing what to say or do in his presence.

“I’d be honoured. As long as the line is used in context to its meaning.” Dark replied. His hand cold on hers as he helped her to stand. It felt strange. Like her hand wasn’t really touching him, but clearly reacting to him. Nova frowned. Unable to properly think on it as Dark removed his hand from hers and slid it down to her lower back. Guiding her into a small café. It looked no different to the countless other coffee shops Nova had been too.

It was tightly packed and smelled homely. Warm with the scents of hot beverages and tasty pastries. An older man, aged possibly around his mid-forties, smiled at Dark from across the café. Spotting him through the window, he began to hurry over to meet them. Dark held the door open for Nova. Chiming a small bell above her head as she stepped inside. The man, dressed in a black apron and comfortable white clothing, greeted them with small menus.

“Ah, Mr.Iplier, so good to see you again. It’s been a while. The usual spot?” The man asked. And Nova was surprised at how this man genuinely seemed happy to see Darkiplier.

The same business man that would arch an eyebrow and people would cower under his gaze. The man’s smile was broad and excited as Dark nodded, returning the familiarity with the waiter as they followed him through the café to the back. The booth the waiter provided sat against the wall. Brightly lit and snugly placed, Nova found herself sitting across from Dark with a menu in her hand. Hot and cold beverages lined the page, and when she flipped it over, small desserts and plates of sandwiches were displayed in elegant handwriting. All the while, the waiter chatted with Dark about the café and how their days were going. Idle talk until Dark looked down at his menu and scanned the choices.

“Are you going to have the usual serving, Mr.Iplier?” The waiter asked. His small notepad out and pen ready. Dark looked thoughtful for a moment. Glancing at Nova before smiling again and turning to the man.

“I’ll try something different; I think. But give us a moment to look it all over?” Dark asked. And the waiter nodded. Hurrying away to go about his business elsewhere.

“This is… not what I expected.” Nova murmured softly. She felt a lot better now. Seeing that the café was indeed a café and not some expensive coffee shop that served beverages in marble cups with gold spoons… though it did sound a little unrealistic now she thought about it.

“I enjoy the atmosphere here.” Dark sighed. Looking remarkably more relaxed as he looked over the menu. “It’s family owned. And the grandmother, the previous owner of this place, makes the bread served here. And the ingredients for their meals are locally produced. Ever since I had their dark roast, chocolate expresso here, I refuse to taste anything else.” Nova laughed. It was high praise coming from Darkiplier.

There was very little chatter between them as Nova looked over the short list of small meals and treats. They all sounded wonderful, and when the waiter returned, Nova still didn’t have any idea of what she wanted. “Come back to me.” Nova said softly, her eyes switching between a sandwich and a muffin on the menu. Silently saying “eenie meenie miney moe” in her head.

She briefly heard Dark order a coffee and a type of muffin for himself. The waiter tsked playfully, commenting how Darkiplier was trying to make it difficult for the servers. Mixing his traditional orders for something else would surely throw them off their day. The two chuckled good-heartedly. Giving Nova enough time to make a final decision. She read out her order, matching it with a warm beverage of her own and the waiter smiled his broad grin again.

“The special of the day, huh? It’s a newbie on the menu, so please give me some feedback on it. No one here likes too.” The waiter winked playfully and took their menus. He whisked away and gracefully weaved through the tables without looking up from his little notepad. Nova watched him go. Grinning to herself as she watched him halt by a table with a toddler, giving the parents some napkins and chuckling with the mother as she wiped up a glob of food from the toddler’s face.

“Hmm, I think our little lunch break will have to be cut short.” Darkiplier said, the strain to his voice made Nova look back around to him. His posture had stiffened. Like he was concentrating very hard on something, staring at the table and for a moment, Nova could have sworn his entire body…flickered red.

“Are you ok?” Nova asked. And Dark turned his gaze onto her, he seemed to be grinning.

“I’m surprised you can’t feel it.” He replied. And when Nova continued to look at him strangely, he chuckled softly. “Then it must only be me he went back for. I hope he hasn’t changed anything important.”

Nova blinked, a sharp pain piercing through her head as Dark’s form flickered once more. Blue this time. And as she opened her eyes, he was gone. Nova looked around the café. Nothing had changed. People chatted between themselves and sipped their drinks. Darkiplier had vanished right in front of her. Nova was so caught up in her confusion that she didn’t notice the waiter come back with two plates. A brightly coloured muffin with purple frosting on top in his left hand and a Nova’s order in the other.

“Is your date coming back?” The waiter asked. His smile a little down-trodden as he placed the plates in front of her. Nova went to reply but a man appeared behind the waiter, a big smile plastered under a finely combed pink moustache.

“Don’t worry, I would never leave a pretty lady by herself. She’ll eat my cupcake!” Wilford Warfstache replied, sliding into the booth across from Nova. The waiter smiled and said that their drinks will be right out. Wandering away like nothing had happened.

But Nova heard none of it. She stared at Wilford with her mouth hanging open. He looked totally fine. Not a hint of blood could be seen on him and his eyes sparkled their usual chocolate brown way.

“Where were we? I am horrible with conversations. The moment I leave, I forget everything that was said.” Wilford grinned, folding his hands around the cupcake in front of him. He licked his lips dramatically and lifted the treat to his mouth. Taking a ridiculously large bite out of it. Frosting and all.

“W-Where did Dark go?” Nova asked. Again, looking about the café. She saw only other customers; however, the toddler and her family had disappeared. And been replaced with a young couple sharing a plate of cookies with their coffees.

“Dark? Did he pop by? I always seem to miss the lovely man.” Wilford replied through a mouthful of purple frosting. And if Nova hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn there was a sharp bitterness to Wilford’s words.

She turned back to Wilford. Her stupefied stare now replaced with something along the lines of frustration. She was confused, and with her lack of understanding came a fresh wave of worry. She pushed it down, faintly managing to wrangle the flood of thoughts that started to make her fingers twitch and fidget with the fabric of her shirt. Wilford halted mid bite, noticing the slow build-up of Nova’s anxiety. He sighed and pulled the cupcake from his mouth. Chewing the remnants of what he bit off as he reached over and took Nova’s shaking hand.

“I’m sorry for jumping this on you…again” Wilford said, softly. Only loud enough that only she could hear him. “I know what I said this morning…hurt you. But Darkie was correct. I’m different when I remember… her. Even though I hurt you, I couldn’t let him swoon you like he always does.” Nova flinched at the venom in Wilford’s voice. It was so out of place. Hearing his kind, soft tone turn sour with a bitterness that would curdle milk.

“Swoon me?” Nova asked. She didn’t withdraw her hand from his. He was warm and the touch centred her; distracted her from spiralling. “Dark only took me out to lunch to distract me from what happened.” 

Wilford barked a laugh. Making the tables closest to your booth glance over, startled by the loud noise. “Darkiplier always has an underlining agenda. I had to get him away from you before he tried something else.” Wilford’s thumb grazed over Nova’s skin. His eyes glowed a faint pink and Nova gasped softly. Sparkling like glitter in the light of the café. Startled, she drew back her hand and stared. His moustache was glimmering, almost illuminating its strands with a sprinkling light.

“But I want you to know something else as well. It will make it easier for you to… be around me.” Wilford said, his hand still on the table where Nova had left it. Open for her to return her fingers to intertwine with his. “Even if I don’t quite understand my lovely old self. I want to try to explain it to you. And that is the fun of it. I can do things, run around and change things to how I want it. I sometimes forget I have done it though. The consequences of my meddling can usually bite my lovely little behind, but I can do things. But… you already know this. You’ve guessed that I’m different.”

Nova didn’t know what to say. Part of her rejoiced; realizing that she was not in fact crazy and Wilford was indeed strange. The gun in the river now made sense. And perhaps with his influence, that all the craziness of the Studio just…worked. Because he made it work. But another part of her was too confused to accept it. To truly come to terms that Wilford had…magic? Was that what she would call it? Or did Wilford have his own word for it?

“Wait… you said… again.” Nova muttered. “You’ve…told me this before? When?”

Wilford nibbled on his lower lip. His fingers returning to wrap around his cupcake. “When you talk to Darkie, don’t you think its weird that his name is Darkiplier? Or that he wears my face? Or Bim in Studio 2 looks exactly like me but doesn’t share my name?” His question bounced around in Nova’s mind, causing a small stab of pain to shoot through her head before her eyes widened.

“You…You have told me all this before.” She whispered. Her shock squeezing her throat until she swallowed it down and looked back up at Wilford. “Why don’t I remember?”

“Because of me. I told you that sometimes I forget what I’ve changed. And a lot of times, the people around me also forget. But you’ve been working with me for years, Nova. You remember bits and pieces because you’ve has gone through it a lot. Time to you has been altered so many times that you think you’ve worked at my Studio for only a little time. But its only until your reminded, or you come across the same space again, do you actually remember what happened. That’s why you accept a name like Darkiplier so easily. Or don’t question how I keep getting back my gun. I didn’t remember until now.” He smiled to himself. “I changed Dark’s plans today, so he was out of town; and a light-bulb went off in my brain that reminded me of something very important.”

He placed his hands back on the table, palms up. Waiting for Nova to place her hands in his and then very gently, Wilford brought the back of her fingers to his lips. He locked her in placed with his gaze, the chocolate brown shimmering and transforming into a glistening pink. Nova watched him, his moustache twinkling, and she was suddenly filled with warmth. A hum of butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her chest tightened. Not from nervousness, but from a sense of comfort and a glowing sweetness that spread throughout her body. She gasped softly. Her entire body alight with this familiar weightlessness.

“What do you remember?” Wilford asked against her skin. The brush of his lips tickling her hand as she swam through the sensations.

Her mind brought visions of flowers lining her desk. Playful winks cast across the room and gentle hands running along her side. The scent of sugar and cinnamon filling her nose as she felt soft lips flutter over her cheek. Wilford’s eyes filled her vision, and she came back to the present with a soft, flustered gasp.

“I..I remember a little.” Nova replied. “You and I… at a Christmas party..?”

Wilford chuckled, his lips now leaving a more prominent kiss against her skin. “I was rough that night. I think I apologized” There was a new twinkle in his eyes. It sent hot shivers through Nova’s body.

“You were jealous.” Nova reminded him. And Wilford laughed again, playfully squeezing her hands as she smiled at him. “And there was no need to apologize…I really, really enjoyed it.” Wilford smiled broadly and lowered their hands to rest on the table. His thumb grazed over her skin in smooth, stroking patterns. The sensation reminded Nova of another memory. And it flourished under his smouldering gaze.

“I’m not going to lie, Wilford. This does confuse me a little.” Nova said. “What about… what happened this morning?” Wilford’s shimmering eyes dulled a little. He looked away. Staring over the café to the window and onto the street full of passing people.

“I don’t think I can ever forget her. But…I don’t want to forget you…again.” His fingers tightened around her hands as he spoke. “We’ll figure something out. But until then, lets finish our little date. I need to make up for lost time.” Nova chuckled, and this time brought his hands towards her to place a kiss on his fingers. And as she lowered them back down to the table; the waiter returned with their drinks. Settling them beside their intertwined fingers and smiling broadly.

“You two are just adorable. Please enjoy your date.” The waiter cooed, before wandering away. Nova couldn’t hold her smile. She removed one hand from Wilford’s and slid the drink closer to her.

“Are we going to become those obnoxiously cute couples? I’m very new to PDA, Wilford.” Nova said. A flush of memories of embarrassed cheek kisses and flustered sighs crossed her mind as Wilford winked at her.

“You’re already so sweet you make people’s teeth ache.” Wilford replied. Laughing when Nova whispered “oh no, don’t. That’s horrible” under her breath.

[lilsoshie]

Together in Santorini

This story is dedicated to @plueschpop and her amazing moodboard 

read on AO3

Everyone is 18+

---

After a stressful few weeks of business deals and contracts, Tony felt high strung and in need of a breather. They had been flying around Europe for over two weeks now and Santorini was their last stop.

It was a beautiful island in Greece where the sky and sea merged together in calming blue, it made Tony feel like he was floating and drowning at the same time. The view from his hotel allowed him to see the smaller islands that surrounded the ageless city, yachts and ships littered the coast.

Pepper insisted that he should take in the sites while he was here to help him unwind.

“And who knows Tony, maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself for a change?” she jokes as she shooed him away.

Which is how Tony found himself wondering the streets by himself, soaking up the beauty of the city. He admired the way the city shone in the sun, a startling white against the cerulean sky.

He had ditched his suite for a white short sleeved cotton shirt, light grey shorts and brown loafers, accompanied by a white panama hat and black sunglasses.

We choose a path at random and begins his trek down the island.

Eventually the cobble paved street leads him to a local museum, like most of the city, it was made of white stone, but this building gave of an antediluvian feel to it. He ran his hand over the columns at the entrance and hummed in appreciation at how, after hundreds of years, they have remained intact and strong.

He slowly paces inside with his arms held behind his back and takes in the artefacts that are on display. There’s an ancient pottery set with farmers painted on them, an old fire kiln with all its weathered cooking equipment, tiled mosaics on the wall displaying an ancient map of the city and much, much more. It was all very fascinating.

He entered the main exhibit and marvelled at the statues that filled the room. Some were polished and clean like they had been made just yesterday, while others had started to crumble due to corrosion, yet still held a powerful presence to them.

Backing up to gaze up at a particularly big statue of an old philosopher, Tony bumped into someone behind him, sending whatever the person was holding all over the floor.

“Shit I’m sorry, I’m-” Tony turns and is stunned by the image in front of him.

At first, he thought he had bumped into one of the beautiful statues on display but after rubbing his eyes he realises that it is in fact an attractive young man. A young man with stunning brown eyes that bore into Tony’s soul like he was standing there naked with all his secrets to bare.

“I’m, I’m Tony!” He grimaced at how he blurted that out but gave the boy a half smile. “Tony Stark.”

The stranger tucked one of his unruly soft curls back behind his ear as he graced Tony with the most charming smile he had ever seen.

“Oh, that’s ok,” he offers a hand covered in black smudges to Tony. “I’m Peter by the way, Peter Parker.”

Tony looks at the hand stunned, still not quite with it. Peter gasps seeing the mess on his hands. He rubs them furiously on his denim shorts before offering it again, still smiling from ear to ear.

“Sorry I was sketching with charcoal and my hands got messy.”

Tony takes the hand this time, not wanting to leave the boy hanging and unconsciously rubs his thumb over Peter’s, who’s smile only seemed to widen. He lets go of the hand and steps backwards and knocks his foot against something. Frowning he looks down to see, what he assumes, is Peter’s art supplies.

At once they both bend down to pick them up only for Tony to place his hand on top of Peter’s when reaching for the same pencil. They both stare at each other before Tony abruptly stands up, hugging his hand to his chest. Tony mumbles another apology as Peter scoops up the rest of his supplies.

As soon as everything was gathered, the boy looks up at him curiously with inquisitive eyes. Tony fidgets under the stare for what felt like an eternity. Eventually the boy smiles again and sticks out his hand as a peace offering. Tony takes it and gently pulls the boy off the ground.

“So,” Tony asks trying to break the awkwardness of the situation. “You draw, do you?”

Peter sees Tony eyeing off his sketch book, grins and offers it to the man with pride.

“Yes, I’m here for a bit of an artist retreat, so to speak.”

Tony flips through the pages of miscellaneous sketches, most of them were sketches of the building and temples in Santorini but as Tony explores the book, he finds himself smiling at the drawings of the locals. There were some lovely ones, all drawn in natural poses, like a moment in time captured on paper.

Peter beams when he points to a picture of a little girl holding hands with an older lady.

“This one is my favourite.” Tony glances up at the boy. “I found the girl crying, she had been separated from her family. I ended up keeping her company until her mother finally found her.”

Peter hugs his supplies tighter to his chest with a relaxed sigh.

“They were so happy to find each other again. With the risk of sounding cheesy, you could feel the love they had for each other. I just had to get it down on paper.”

Tony just watches Peter and how he lights up while retelling all the stories behind the sketches. He feels a warmth pooling in his stomach. It gives him a sense on serenity, like all his stress from the past few weeks have all but vanished, leaving him feeling a renewed energy.

He wanted more.

“Come sailing with me?” he says before his brain could catch up

Peter’s head snaps to look up at Tony

“Pardon?”

“Come sailing with me?” Tony repeats but with more confidence. “I’m only here for a short time and I would love to have you keep me company.”

The boy gifts Tony with his smile once more, he suspects that he is starting to become addicted to the mesmerising gesture.

“I would love to.”

---

The sun is high, the day is warm, and the smell of sea air is strong as Tony guides the little white yacht that he hired across crystal clear waters. the wind is faint so the vessel glides smoothly.

Peter is leaning against the railing on the bow, laughing as a sturdy breeze picks up and tussles his hair about. Every now and then he’d sketch something he sees in the distance.

Tony notices that he worries his bottom lip between his teeth when he concentrates on his work, a pink tongue darting out every so often. The minute Peter catches Tony observing him drawing, a faint red hue graces the boy’s cheeks before he turns back to his sketching, hiding a small smile behind his book.

Eventually Tony finds a nice private area and anchors the yacht is place.

As he does so, he hears a faint rustling, the pitter patter of feet on the deck and then a loud whoop followed by a splash. Peter emerges from the water gleefully and pushes his hair back out of his face.

He is completely naked.

Creamy white skin glows from the light reflecting off the water’s surface as he swims backwards, absorbing the sun. The sea provides no cover and Tony can see everything. He swallows a gulp as he stares down at the most beautiful individual he has ever encountered. His eyes trace the boy’s slender waist, up his flat stomach, past his pastel pink nipples and his mouth is left dry when he watches the boy’s adam's apple bob as he talks, what about Tony can’t remember as he is too busy devouring the boy in his mind.

After doing a small lap, Peter waves over at Tony, beckoning him to join him.

“Come on Tony,” he practically purrs. “The water is amazing.”

Without skipping a beat, Tony undresses and jumps in after the young man, the sea is brisk against his warm skin. Peter giggles as Tony emerges and splashes water at him lightheartedly.

“Oh? Is that how we’re playing?” Tony smirks at the boy and throws a handful of water into his face.

Peter lets out a surprised Oh face then his eyes sparkle mischievously. He brings both hands in and creates a big wave that splashes Tony back and takes off before the man could react. Realising Peter was swimming away Tony let out a playfully growl and chases after him.

Peter swam towards the yacht but was grabbed before he could reach the ladder, he lets out a loud squeal as Tony tickles the boy from behind.

“Stop…ha-ha…please!” Peter cries turning around to face Tony, laughing at the onslaught. “Please I yield! Ha-ha, I yield!”

As they both start to calm down, both grinning stupidly at each other, Tony is made painfully aware that he is holding a very naked Peter against his own very naked body. All laughter dies as the mood shifts to something more intimate. Peter’s hair falls over his hooded eyes and Tony can’t help but brush the strands aside so he can drown in their murky depths.

He runs a splayed hand over the smoothness of Peter’s back, dragging it up to join his other hand in the wet mess of curls. Gently, he angles the boys head, eyes shifting from Peter’s to his slightly pouty lips. A soft exhale of a content sigh is all the permission the man needs.

Tony’s lips meet Peter’s, they’re wet and taste of the sea. At first the kiss is slow, the tender movement of simply sweeping their lips together. The boy delicately mouths at Tony’s bottom lips, nose brushing against each other, inhaling as the kiss deepens.

They pull apart for air and stare searchingly at each other before joining again, this time more desperately. Peter holds them up with one arm clinging to the rails behind him as Tony grinds their bodies closer. Water stirs in their frantic display of affection, creating small waves that ripple against the yacht.

A bite on the boy’s lips causes him to gasp, granting access for Tony’s tongue. His mouth tasted sweet and warm, a stark contrast to his lips. The feeling drags a moan out of him as his cock twitches to life against the boy’s stomach.

Without breaking the kiss, Tony reaches for Peter’s own erect penis, it fits perfectly in his hand. He gives it a gentle squeeze, his thumb flicking over the slit a few times. The boy whines urgently at his ministration, pulling away from the kiss to pant breathlessly while leaning his head on the back of the yacht.

The cries of pleasure remind Tony of an old sea tale about sirens, luring men to their deaths with their enchanted voices while out at sea. Tony muses, while he slowly pumps the cock in his grip, that he would follow Peter willingly, even if it meant his own demise.

Soon Tony hooks his leg on the bottom rung of the ladder that’s submerged in the water and positions Peter, so that the boy is straddling his thigh, cocks pressed firmly against one another. With one hand placed safely on the Peter’s hip, keeping them as stable as possible, he uses the other to grip them both together. The pleasure of the hold jolting down their spines.

Starting with a soft, slow pump, getting used to the feel of both cocks in his hand, his head falls forward, face tucking into the boys exposed neck. He mouths absently at the skin as he struggles to stop his hips from twitching and rutting forward. His lust and desire are nearly overwhelming, but for Peter he would go slow. For Peter he would be gentle.  

After a few beats of winded pleas and steady grunts, Tony picks up the pace. He can feel Peter gripping the rails for dear life as his own hand tightens on the boy’s milky hips, fingers bruising the delicate skin. Peter twists and turns at the carnality of it all.

“Please Tony?” a broken sob escapes his parted lips. The boy’s eyes bore into him once again, tears beginning to form from the intensity of their building climax. He can slowly feel his control slipping through his fingers.

With a feverish moan, Tony strokes faster, encouraging Peter to move with the thrusts. The water is now churning with their rapid movements, drops of water splashing their faces, but they’re too far gone to care.

He can feel the telltale signs, the knot forming in his stomach as the heat grows like a fire coursing through his body. His foot almost slips off the ladder as the desire begins to engulf him. The sharp sting of Peter’s nails bite into his shoulder, dragging out a deep groan from within, the pain only heightens the pleasure.

Tony comes hard with the boy’s name spilling from his lips, his hips bucking upwards chasing his own orgasm, his eye clamped shut as the euphoria filled him up leaving him senseless. Peter’s whimpers are cut short as the boy follows through with his own seed mixing with Tony’s, only to be washed away into the sea, the only evidence left of their act was the tears that feel freely down Peter’s cheek.

Peter finally loses his grip on the ladder and collapses against Tony with a sated sigh, he weakly manages to give a lopsided smile. He looked stunning holding onto Tony as they float in the sea, with his flushed face and wet cheeks. With a calloused thumb, Tony can’t help but brush the drying tears away and look at the boy is stunned awe.

A slight wind brings them back down to earth, causing them to shiver slightly from the cool air.

Tony leans in and places his forehead against Peter’s and gives him a slow kiss, then another and one more for the hell of it.

“Maybe we should get back on the yacht and dry ourselves off?” He breathes softly against the boy’s lips, wanting to kiss them again, to never stop, he’s been cast under a spell and these lips were the cure.

Peter nods silently and turns to begin his climb, leaving Tony with a close-up view of the boy’s ample backside, water drips down his torso, the sun making it glisten seductively, a bruise already forming on the pale skin. Tony wonders how many times this kid could leave he speechless today.

---

Tony lay stretched out on the dock, naked and spent from the third round of sex, his arousal finally quenched. He had his back to the setting sun and his head in his arms, drifting on and off from sleep. The sound of scratching stirs him awake and he sleepily turns his face sideways to inspect the noise.

Peter is sat against the railings with a white sheet draped around him, his knees pulled up to his chest and he is scribbling happily in his art book, his tongue doing that thing Tony loves. He gives Tony a warm smile when he sees he is awake.

He crawls over and kisses him tenderly before Tony sits himself up and pulls the kid in for a hug. He rests his head in the crook of Peter’s neck and sneaks a peek at the sketch book still in his lap.

They’re all sketches of Tony, mostly of him sleeping. A warm feeling pulls at his heart strings as he traces the pictures with his fingers.

“Come back with me.” Tony pleads against the boy’s curls, now soft and dry again. “I don’t want this to be our only time together.”

Peter pulls away slightly so he can look Tony in the eye, he looks…sad

“I can’t Tony.” he caresses his face warmly, threading his fingers through his beard, his thumb delicately strokes his lower lip. Tony plants a forlorn kiss to his palm, holding it against him with his own hand.

“I came here for a break before I start college. It’s important for me to go back.”

Tony nods his head empathetically, he knew they’d have to return to reality soon enough, he couldn’t just abandon his company either.

“Are you studying art?” he questions while he makes a notion towards Peter’s book.

Peter just chuckles, shaking his head a little.

“No, this is just for fun,” he massages the pages of the book like an old lover. “I’m actually studying biochemistry at MIT.”

Tony freezes.

“No way…” he manages to say after a while of staring at the boy with his mouth gaping like a fish. He couldn’t believe his luck. “my main office is in New York, I’m like four hours away from you!”

Or shorter if Tony takes one of his private planes.

It takes a few seconds but Tony watches as realisation dawns on the boy.

He gasps as he is knocked back onto the deck when Peter launches himself at him with a flurry of emotions, showering him with kisses all over his face. Hot wet tears begin to fall from his eyes which Tony happily kisses away.

“Does that mean we can keep seeing each other?” Peter asks imploringly, searching Tony’s face for an answer.

“Only if you want to Sweet.”

“Yes!” Peter yells out to the sky with a gleeful laugh. “A thousand times yes!”

The laugh is contagious and soon Tony is laughing too.

Who would've thought that taking a stroll would lead him to this?

As he leans in to kiss Peter, Tony reminds himself to give Pepper a raise.