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daechwitatamic · 1 year

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4. Perilune || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 4: Perilune

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, confessions, drinking, angst, facetime sex lol bye, vibrator use (f), dirty talk, kissing, lightly dom!jin, fingering, reader takes it from behind, penetrative sex (protection not mentioned either way), multiple orgasms (f. receiving), sweet aftercare

WC: 9k

Part 4: Perilune

Perilune: (noun) the point of an elliptical lunar orbit where the satellite and the Moon are the closest

“What… is going on here?” Minji asks, eyes wide, voice trembling.

Seokjin, secret genius, reaches out an arm to welcome her into the hug. “Y/N is upset,” he says easily, like this is a perfectly natural thing. “Come help.”

Minji’s eyes narrow, but she shuffles into the hug, wrapping one arm around each of you. “But,” she ventures after a minute, “why are you upset?”

You shake yourself free of the hug, wipe at your face roughly with both hands. You consider your options. You consider that Seokjin is willing to forgo the easy option, to wrestle with a tough reality for you.

You owe him the same.

“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen when he flies home again,” you say, as honest as you can be. “And I’m scared I’ll lose him again. And I hate that it isn’t easier.”

Minji looks back and forth between you silently. “Are you….?” she manages, and the question is pointed more at Seokjin than you, so he answers.

“We’re together,” he says simply.

The shock flies to her face almost instantly, but all you feel is resignation. You’re already emotionally spent today; this might as well happen.

“For how long?” she demands. “When did this start?”

You look at him. “Technically, like four days ago,” you answer, deciding to omit the New Year’s Eve debacle. For now.

Her eyes narrow again. “You didn’t tell me.” The accusation falls at your feet, but you’re glad to accept it.

“We were…” You trail off, meeting Seokjin’s eyes over her head. “We were trying to feel it out before we told anybody.”

“Hmph,” Minji sniffs, arms crossed, frown pronounced. “I’m not anybody. I’m your best friend.”

“I know,” you whisper. “But it felt… complicated. Considering. You don’t… hate this? Would you… are you okay with this?”

Minji huffs out a laugh, the same way Seokjin does when he thinks you’ve said something ridiculous. “Please,” she says, reaching back to elbow her brother in the ribs. “You two have been stupid for each other since we were teenagers. It’s honestly about time.”

It feels too good to be true. Seokjin smiles, grabbing her arm and wiggling it around affectionately. “Look how mature you are,” he coos. “Look at my mature, smart, lovely, wonderful sister.”

“Get off me,” she snaps, but there’s no bite behind it. “God, you two loons.”

Later, when you’re back home, alone, trying to process everything that had happened, your phone lights up.

[11:57 PM] Minji 💗: OH MY GOD [11:57 PM] Minji 💗: THIS MEANS [11:57 PM] Minji 💗: YOU GOT THE GOOD DICK GLOW [11:57 PM] Minji 💗: FROM MY BROTHER???????///??????????? [11:57 PM] Minji 💗: I WILL THROW UP I WILL THROW UP RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[12:03 AM] Jin 😎: well now that the cat’s out of the bag… can i take you on a date before i go?

–

You tell Jin yes, but the next night isn’t spent with him. Instead, you show up after dinner to Minji’s apartment holding a fresh stalk of celery with a cheery bow slapped on the packaging. It’s stupid - ridiculous, really - but it’s a you and Minji thing dating all the way back to middle school and you think she’ll laugh.

You’re right; as soon as she processes the nonsense she’s looking at, she bursts into laughter.

“Damn,” she cackles, backing up to let you into the apartment. “You must be feeling guilty. You bypassed show up with beer and went straight to celery!”

“Please accept this token of my deepest regrets and most sincere apologies,” you deadpan, pushing the stalks into her hands. Still laughing, she heads into her tiny kitchen to find a spot for them in the fridge. You perch on the arm of her couch, waiting for her to come talk to you.

She’s shaking her head at you when she returns, flopping on her couch and staring up at you. “You really didn’t need to,” she says, still smiling.

You twist your mouth at her. “I’ve known you for a long time,” you say gently. “I know it hurt your feelings that I didn’t tell you.”

She looks away and shrugs. For a second you think she’s going to lie, but then she juts out her jaw the way she does when she’s feeling defensive and she says, “I guess. I understood, though. I mean, I get why you didn’t.”

You run your toes along a pattern on her rug. “It’s weird because… I don’t know what’s okay to tell you?”

She cocks her head, not fully understanding.

You try again. “I mean… I don’t want to not tell you stuff… but obviously there will be things that you don’t want to hear.”

“Ah,” she says, understanding, starting to nod. “Well… how about you give me some warning if anyone’s gonna get naked.”

“A safe word,” you suggest, only partly joking.

“Pineapple,” she says sagely. “If there are naked parts, warn me with pineapple.”

You laugh. “Okay,” you agree. “So should I? Tell you all of it?”

“Start at the beginning,” she directs.

“The beginning.” You laugh again. The beginning was so long ago, before you even understood it. “Well, I think I’ve been in love with him since –”

“Since forever.”

“How come you knew, but he didn’t?” you ask, exasperated. Had everyone known but you and him?

“Seokjin is an idiot,” she says simply, crossing her arms behind her head and getting comfortable. “Tell me the rest.”

You sink onto the couch opposite her, hugging your knees to your chest. “We had a lot of moments over the years,” you admit, “where I really… wondered. You know?”

“You were the only one wondering,” she says with a smile. “He’s always… made space for you, broke his own rules for you. Jungkook and I used to joke about it. He was always nicer to you than to us.”

You take this in, letting it soak into your heart like sunlight on your skin. You can feel the truth of it, can recognize that some part of you must have known this all along.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I guess it was like that, from the outside. I just… never knew what it meant. It was hard to see it clearly, from too close.”

Minji reaches over and squeezes your hand briefly, encouraging. “So, when did things start-start? Like really start?”

“Well,” you say tentatively, “two years ago, when you had that New Year’s Eve party? We, uh… shared a pineapple that night.”

Minji blinks at you, and you watch the moment it processes. Her eyes go wide, lips curling a bit in revulsion. “You what? How long ago? At my dad’s house?”

You cover your face with your hands, peeking at her between fingers. “Yeah.”

She exhales, nearly a whisper. “Two years ago?” she repeats, disbelieving. Now, a bit of hurt does creep into her voice as she adds, “That’s a long time to keep a secret.”

“I would have told you, I swear,” you hurry to say. “But he… kind of vanished the next day. Got on the plane and left and literally never talked to me about it again.”

“God, he’s an incurable fucking idiot,” Minji mutters, mostly to herself, it seems.

“We worked it out,” you explain. “Recently. But yeah… I was embarrassed. And hurt, to be honest. I just didn’t want to have to admit any of it. I think saying it out loud to you - to anyone - would have killed me. I wanted to just… pretend it didn’t happen.”

She groans in mock agony, throwing her head back and flopping dramatically, like your own stupidity is causing her great pain.

“I know,” you say, apologetic despite her dramatics. “The whole thing is ridiculous.”

“So?” she says, pulling herself together and scooting to sit back up. “What’s happening now? You’ve… had pineapples again, since he came home for Dad’s surgery?”

You feel your face burn like it’s caught fire before you can even answer and she starts shrieking and laughing, reaching to whack your legs with a throw pillow.

“Never mind!” she cries. “I got my answer, don’t tell me anything else! My actual question is - what happens next?”

You shrug, your stomach sinking. “I’m not sure,” you say. “He… told me he loves me?”

Minji squeals, the noise echoing to her lofted ceilings and back, her feet kicking.

“But,” you add, “he’s flying home in a few days…”

“What?” Minji squawks indignantly, sitting all the way up to face you. “So you’ll just let it die again? I physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually cannot watch you idiots drag this out for another two years.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a little laugh, even though you suddenly feel a bit like crying. “I obviously don’t want that either. He said we’ll talk about it when it’s time.”

She sighs heavily. “Don’t leave it up to him,” she instructs. “He’s so dumb, like my god is he dumb. I have faith in you. Handle it.”

“Okay, bossy,” you say, poking her leg with your foot. “I promise to do my best.”

She nods, satisfied. “You better,” she threatens, and then heads to the kitchen to munch on the celery you’d brought her.

–

Seokjin’s last day comes too quickly. You’ve been dreading it for days. You remember all the other times he’s left before - for college, then when he moved, and on New Year’s Day after sleeping with you for the first time. You had spent all of those days at your parents’ house, watching across the street as cars were loaded, or assessing the empty place in the driveway.

It makes it suck less that this time, you’re in your own apartment, and Seokjin is with you, telling you goodbye instead of vanishing in silence.

“Don’t be so sad,” he tells you sweetly. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“No we won’t,” you grumble, pouting.

Days ago, you’d curled into his side, clutching the fabric of his white t-shirt between desperate fingers. The cotton had felt like an anchor.

“Jin?” you’d asked, and he’d looked down at you from his phone, where a game waited for his input.

“Hm?”

“It’s like… three days left.”

“Yeah,” he’d said slowly, like he wasn’t sure where you were going with this. But of course he did - what else could be weighing on your mind? Why else would you bring it up?

“We said we’d decide what to do when it was closer,” you reminded him. “It’s closer.”

“It is,” he agreed easily, turning his phone screen off and shifting to give you his full attention. “And?”

You couldn’t stand it, suddenly, his teasing.

“Seokjin,” you murmured, reproachfully.

“What?” he asked innocently, bumping your nose with his. He was smiling, like he thought your distress was a little funny.

“Jin,” you whined. “I’m being serious! We need to talk about it!”

“So let’s talk about it!” he had laughed. Then, watching your face, he’d grown serious. He’d brushed his fingers along your jaw, pressed a kiss to the scrunch between your eyebrows. “I’m listening,” he promised.

“When you go home…” you’d said quietly, “I don’t want this to end. I know we said long distance is awful, but…” You trailed off.

“But what’s the alternative?” he finished the thought for you. “I don’t want this to be over, either.”

“So,” you’d said slowly, hope daring to blossom behind your ribcage, “we’ll try?”

He had nodded seriously, eyes far away as he considered this option. “It won’t be fun, and it won’t be easy,” he’d warned. “But, yeah… I’d like to try. I don’t want to throw this away again.”

As he double-checks his luggage in the doorway of your apartment, he sends you a rueful smile and says your name disarmingly.

“What?” you grumble.

“We’ll see each other soon,” he repeats indulgently.

“Soon,” you scoff. “Like, what? Christmas?”

He comes to you then, wrapping his arms around your angry shoulders. “Listen,” he says, his dulcet voice soothing you, “My goal is to find a way to be with you. I’m going to go back and do whatever I can to make that happen. Okay?”

“A man with a plan,” you murmur, softening with his reassurances.

“A man who’s done losing time,” he says solemnly.

It’s the first time he’s leaving you where you have the chance to kiss him goodbye.

It’s the first time he’s leaving you with hope that he’ll return and help you build something better.

–

You and Jin talk on the phone every day that he’s gone. It sucks to be far apart, sure, but somehow this is still better than before - at least now you’re talking, a ton, giggling and flirting openly like you’ve never been able to before.

At least now you can tell him you love him before hanging up, instead of pretending you don’t, instead of denying it, lying about it, trying to imagine a life where it isn’t your biggest truth.

Almost a week passes before Jin tells you, ceremoniously, “I… have news.”

“Ooh,” you say. “I’m listening.”

He smiles at you lazily through the screen; you’re each in bed, chatting before saying goodnight. “Don’t get too excited,” he warns you. “It’s good news, but it’s not ideal news.”

“I will temper my expectations,” you promise.

“I requested to transfer,” he tells you. “I put in the request the day I came back.”

You smile, feeling warm and grateful, feeling full of love and appreciation. “And?”

“It’s not perfect,” he warns you again. “I did get approved, but -“

You squeal.

“But,” he continues over you, “they want me to work down a 90-day notice and help train someone to take my place here. And the transfer location isn’t in town, it’s in the city.”

You stay silent, thinking about this.

“So,” you clarify slowly, “we have to wait three months, but then you’ll be here?”

“Not there-there,” he points out. “An hour away.”

“It’s better than now,” you point out. “Even if I only see you on weekends, it’s better than now.”

“It’ll be more than that,” he says. “That’s the absolute worst case scenario. Okay?”

“Okay,” you say, minimizing the call to pull up your calendar. “Ninety days starting… today?”

“Tomorrow is day one,” he tells you warmly. You click the date on your calendar - a Thursday in early September - and mark it Jin transfers.

“Can’t wait,” you say, opening the call again. “When are we gonna apartment hunt?”

He laughs. “I’ve already got Minji on it.”

You lay awake long after you hang up, daydreaming of ninety days from now, when Seokjin will be just an hour away, close enough to drive to, close enough to touch.

—

“How was your day, beautiful?” Jin greets you before the connection loads his video, his voice finding you before his face does. It’s been about a month and a half of the long-distance thing, and your video call routine is solid.

You roll on your side, holding your phone so Jin can see your sad little face and a good helping of cleavage from your pajama top. “I don’t know,” you pout. “Okay, I guess.”

“Aigoo,” he croons. “What’s wrong with my favorite girl today?”

You sigh heavily; you’ve dropped the act for the most part, and now you’re letting your actual frustration show. It’s about a month into your relationship, a month into making long distance work.

“I dunno,” you admit. “I think I’m just having a day where I miss you.”

“I’m here,” he says seriously, bringing his phone closer to his face. Disgusting, that you can see him so clearly that you can make out the affection in his gaze, and yet he’s still hundreds of miles away.

“I know,” you say. “But I guess I miss… the physical stuff.”

He grins wolfishly before you’re even done with the word “physical”, eyebrows waggling suggestively.

You laugh - you can’t help it. “I meant like… I could use a hug. But… yeah, that too, now that you mention it. A little stress relief would be nice.”

Jin shifts on your screen. “Hm,” he says tightly, voice suddenly different enough that it brings your attention to him sharply. “Well, how would you have handled that - before me?”

You feel yourself flush. “Jin,” you scold. “Don’t tease me.”

“As much as I do love to see you get flustered,” he admits, “I am very serious right now.”

How did you miss his expression darkening? Suddenly, his brows are starting to furrow, his eyes narrowed just slightly with intent focus. His voice touches on dangerous.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, words all mumbled through your embarrassment.

“If you can’t tell me, maybe you should just show me,” he suggests, that edge to his voice singing like the freshly forged metal of a gleaming sword.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, still mostly mortified. Only a little turned on. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My normal way, is, uh… with some battery-powered assistance.”

You can’t even look at him.

“Why are you being shy about it?” he asks. “That’s hot. I wanna see - wanna see what you do. Wanna see you come undone.”

You almost gasp, and he makes the mistake of letting his breath out just a touch too loudly, shifting just a bit too suspiciously.

“Are you-?”

“Of fucking course I am,” he huffs, and now it’s obvious that he’s got his hand around his dick - the scrunch of his brows, his teeth on his bottom lip. “Come on, don’t let me party alone.”

“You’re such a dork.” Despite the insult, your thighs are rubbing together as if of their own volition, and you sneak your hand down to press against your core just once for relief.

“You’d forget all about that if I had my hands on you instead,” he asserts, voice low. “I’d like to see you call me names when I’m up to my knuckles in your -”

“Jin!”

“Am I wrong?” he smirks. You can tell by the way the phone shakes just so that he’s still stroking himself, slowly.

You have no answer to that.

“Come on,” he urges. “Let me see. I’m so hard.”

Your breath whooshes from you as he admits this. You’d never done this before - with anyone, not on video. It feels scary, but definitely fun. And, of course, you trust Jin implicitly. You know this will stay between you two.

“Take your shirt off,” you murmur, and the speed at which he obeys would be comical if you weren’t wet to the point of discomfort.

“You too,” he begs, voice going whiney for just a second. You hesitate, still a little shy, but finally you pull the material over your head, dropping it on the empty side of the bed for later. You roll sideways, placing your arm strategically to prop your tits up a bit.

“Now bottoms,” he instructs, half breathless. You’re slow to comply, eyes taking in the skin he’s revealed on-screen - tanned shoulders, pecs, dusky nipples, his flat tummy. Eventually you tear your eyes away enough to shimmy out of your pajama bottoms and panties, looking back at him expectantly.

Seokjin angles the camera down for a minute, displaying the way he’s got his fist around the base of his cock, holding it upright and proud for you. “See what you did?” he grunts, hand sliding up and squeezing the head before taking its place at the bottom again.

“You’ve got crimes to answer for, too,” you tease.

“Show me,” he says, the words tumbling from him. He shifts the camera back to focus on his face. “Please, baby, let me see you.”

It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to bend your leg and prop your phone up, reaching to keep one finger on the top to steady it. You try not to look at your own body on the screen, focusing instead on how Seokjin’s eyes go heavy-lidded as he takes you in, how his breath hitches when you slide your middle finger between your folds and swirl it around in the gathered slickness you find there.

He swears fiercely, and you almost laugh. It makes you warmer, wetter, knowing you can affect him like this.

“Spread them,” he commands, and you feel yourself clench at the words.

“Really?” you ask, though you know he means it. You just want to buy time, the feeling of being exposed new and a little frightening.

“Wanna see,” he repeats, lips barely moving to form the words.

Finally, you muster the courage and do as he asked with your thumb and forefinger, listening to the slick sound of his hand on his cock, the way his exhales carry the barest touch of a groan.

“Happy?” you ask after a minute of his huffed breaths, bringing the phone back up towards your face and unbending your leg.

“Won’t be happy until you come,” he mutters. “Show me what you do. Please?”

“Is that what you want?” you ask, feeling a little breathless. “Just do what I normally do and let you listen?”

“And watch,” he breathes.

You roll to dig through your nightstand drawer, coming out with a low-key but trusty bullet. When you click it on, Seokjin’s eyes fly to yours through the screen.

You follow his direction, tilting the camera so he can watch you slide it, on its lowest setting, over your entrance and up to your clit. You retrace this path three more times, slowly, lightly, your body warming up by degrees. When you finally settle it firmly over your clit and leave it, you can’t help the low, rolling moan you let out.

“That’s right,” Jin whispers. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“Not as good as you would,” you admit with a little laugh.

“Soon,” he promises. And then, “What would you want me to do?”

“God,” you utter, pressing the bullet tighter against your clit. “Anything - your fingers, your mouth - want you inside me.”

He can’t even answer you, eyes sliding closed for a second as he loses himself in your words, in the picture they play in his head, in the memories of you that they unravel.

“I- I’m getting close,” you warn him, the pulsing starting in gentle, easy waves, a warning sign.

He answers with a groan, and you click the bullet to a higher setting, letting your head fall back and your eyes drift closed as you lose yourself in the vibrations. The call is filled with the sound of steady buzzing, the slick skin-on-skin sound of Seokjin’s hand, both of your gasped and haggard breathing, punctuated by low groans and the occasional whine.

You grit his name between your teeth when you teeter closer.

“Let go,” he commands, his voice rumbling deeper than you’ve ever heard it. It’s a stark contrast to the higher-pitched whine he lets out when you do, a wordless wail sailing between your lips as your legs shake and your whole body tightens. He comes with a cry before you’ve even caught your breath, quiet and stillness finally settling over you both as you click off your bullet and toss it sideways on your bed to clean off later.

He smiles beatifically, some of his hair stuck to his forehead. “That was fun,” he says, leaning to reach for something, you assume to clean himself off with. “You feel better?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathlessly, legs still twitching a little. “But not as good as I could. Not as good as if you were here.”

“Soon,” he promises again, eyes crinkling as he smiles at you. “I promise. I’ll be with you soon.”

–

[9:28 AM] You: good morningggg [12:03 PM] You: wow, busy today huh? hope it’s a good busy and not a shitty busy 😘 [5:02 PM] You: heading home! call me if you get a second? [10:41 PM] You: ok well i’m going to bed… talk tmrw maybe. Goodnight.

You sleep fitfully, filled with unease and disappointment. Your phone’s vibrations wake you close to midnight. You answer it without checking the screen.

“Mm’lo?” you manage, eyes still closed.

“Baby, I am so sorry,” Seokjin blurts through the line. “I literally just got home.”

Your mind, still mostly asleep, is muddy. “Hmm,” you breathe, trying to process, trying to make coherent words. “It’s so late.”

“I know,” he says sorrowfully. “I was running in circles all day, I legitimately don’t think I’ve peed since morning.”

You let another breath that’s kind of like a sigh. “That’s not healthy,” you murmur.

He laughs a little. “Tell me about it. Anyway, I’m sorry I was MIA all day. I hope you didn’t worry.”

“I didn’t worry,” you tell him, starting to wake up a little. “I knew you were working. Missed you, though.”

“I missed you, too.”

“You were too busy to miss me.”

He laughs again. “Well, I miss you now.” Then, almost to himself, “The moon’s pretty tonight. Looks almost full.”

You shimmy to the edge of your bed, where you can peek through your sheer curtains. The moon is very full, visible just above rooftops across the street.

“I see it,” you tell him sleepily. It gives you a sense of peace that, although you’re far away, although you really failed as a couple at communication today, at least you can share this - the pure white moonlight, the darkened mares barely visible.

You both go silent for a few minutes, and you keep your eyes on the moon.

“Hey,” Seokjin says softly. “I know today sucked. It won’t always be like this, okay? One more month - not even a whole month - and we won’t ever have days like this again.”

“Yeah,” you say, a little unconvinced.

“We won’t,” he assures you. “I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be sick of me in no time.”

“Can’t wait,” you tell him with a yawn, finally scooting back into the warm spot you’d vacated, ready for sleep to find you again.

–

Seokjin’s new apartment - a fifty-three minute drive from your own, you timed it - is admittedly really nice. Nicer than your “swanky” one.

“God, this kitchen,” you marvel after dropping a box of his cutting boards and mixing bowls onto the kitchen counter. “It’s almost enough to make me want to learn to cook more.”

He laughs. “I think I told the agent yes based on this room alone.”

Most of the big furniture pieces were brought up by the moving company Jin had hired, so you help him unload the rest of the boxes from his car and you both look around, trying to determine the best place to start.

“I’m going to find my sheet sets and set up my bed,” he decides, eyes scanning the many boxes. “That way when we tire ourselves out, it’s ready to go. Can you… maybe find the bag with all my toiletries and get that stuff in the bathroom?”

“Aye-aye, captain!” you chirp, starting to wade into the sea of cardboard, but Seokjin tugs you back gently by your shirt’s hem.

“What?” you ask him, a little giggly.

“What are you so happy about?” he teases, pulling you close and resting his mouth near your temple, not quite a kiss.

You shrug, wrapping your arms around his middle and welcoming the hug. You never want to go three months without him ever again.

“Just…” you say, trailing off to think. “Just happy that you’re here.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “This is better, right?”

“Couldn’t hug you before,” you agree.

His smile goes sideways. “Lots of things we couldn’t do before.”

You laugh, pushing him away playfully. “Can’t do that until you set the bed up!”

“That is simply untrue,” he points out, even as he heads towards a box clearly labeled linens/blankets/pillows. “You just lost creativity points.”

You roll your eyes, unable to do anything about the grin on your face, and get to work searching for his shampoo.

Later, after you finished the bathroom and started putting laundry away and after Jin spent a solid two hours hooking up all his consoles and messing with the wiring, you lay sideways across his newly made bed, feeling like the bones have melted out of your body.

“Unpacking is exhausting,” you complain. “I was going to drive home tonight so I could sleep later in the morning, but I don’t think I can.”

“Good,” Jin murmurs, sounding half-asleep himself. He rolls and throws an arm heavily over your middle, tugs you closer. “Stay here with me. Stay all night.”

I think… I could stay forever, you think.

–

[10:06 AM] You: morning 😘 today’s gonna be a really rough day at work for me so don’t worry if you dont hear from me until late, ok? [10:06 AM] Jin 🥰: yeah i remembered. good luck, you’ve got this! [10:06 AM] Jin 🥰: I’ll see you tonight at my place right? [10:07 AM] You: yes - the only thing getting me through the dayyy

By the time you stagger to your car, it’s been dark for hours. Your feet are throbbing in pain, your back feels like you wrestled an elephant, and you’re so tired you almost consider a nap in the backseat.

And then you remember - you’re supposed to drive the hour to Jin’s place tonight. In the six months Jin has been in his new place, you’ve taken turns every few nights making the trek back and forth. Tonight is your turn.

Or, is supposed to be.

You two had only canceled once before, on a night when a terrible rainstorm swept through and made the roads unsafe. Apart from that, you’d always shown up - or he had.

Guilt, and the desire to see Jin, wage war against your exhaustion until you’re nearly in tears over it. You just don’t know what to do - try and make the drive, or wave the white flag and just go home to a hot shower and, finally, some dinner.

Eventually, you turn on the car and start towards home, calling Jin as you go.

“Well, look who it is,” he greets you warmly.

You sniff in reply. “Jin? I don’t think I’m coming there tonight. I’m really sorry. I’m just - I’m so tired, I feel like it wouldn’t be safe - and I haven’t eaten anything since before work and -”

“Hey,” he interrupts you gently. “It’s fine. Do you want me to come there?”

You glance at the clock on the dashboard. “Honestly,” you say, mournful, “I don’t think it’s worth it. I won’t be awake, and even if I am, I won’t be fun.”

“I don’t care if you’re fun,” he says. You know he means it. But still.

“I”m just gonna go home, eat, shower, and pass out,” you say, feeling utterly defeated. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says.

You still cry, quietly, mostly out of frustration, the rest of the way home, even after you’ve hung up. Going home to him would have been exactly what you needed tonight, and it feels deeply unfair that you can’t have that.

You eat first, scarfing down leftovers you pull from your fridge, not even bothering to put on a tv show for noise. You barely even sit down. A hot shower does wonders, and soon you’re collapsing into bed, hardly having the strength to roll over and reach for your charger’s cord. You text Jin another apology and a sweet goodnight, but you’re asleep before he can answer, lost to the dark.

You wake up confused, still engulfed in darkness. It feels like you’ve only been asleep for minutes. You become aware of a noise near the end of your bed and your adrenaline spikes. You sit up, reaching for your phone.

“Don’t mace me,” Jin laughs, coming around the side of the bed and moving the blankets so he can slide in next to you.

You’re frozen, uncomprehending. “Jin?”

“The one and only,” he quips, rolling to cling to your back. “Surprise.”

“I told you not to come!” you splutter.

“Should I leave?” he asks wryly, and you grab his wrist as if he might.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, heart rate starting to calm now that you’ve discovered there isn’t a murderer in your apartment. “God, your feet are like icicles.”

He hums a laugh into your hair, runs a hand down your arm. “Go back to sleep,” he tells you.

You try to listen, scrumping around until you’re comfy again, his body warm and solid behind yours. “Can’t believe you drove here in the middle of the night,” you say finally, a touch of disbelief in your voice. “You’re out of your mind.”

He pulls you tight and then releases you. “Just try and keep me away,” he dares the universe, voice low next to your ear.

You slowly drift back towards sleep, breathing going even and deep. The last thing you remember before you go under is whispering, “Thank you.” To him. Maybe to the universe.

–

“I can’t believe I’m doing this for the second time in less than a year,” Seokjin grumbles from his side of the couch that the two of you are trying - and currently, failing - to get up a stairwell.

“Are you complaining?” you ask, a bit of challenge in your voice. “Are you complaining after your amazing girlfriend found the best apartment, perfectly situated halfway between our jobs, and secured it - all while you were locked into Overwatch? Are you complaining that the living an hour away problem is finally over after an entire year? No more stupid-early commutes, or only seeing each other long enough to sleep - you have complaints?”

“I am complaining,” he asserts, shifting the couch in his hands, “about the physical labor.”

When you get to a good stopping point, hours later, you lean heavily against the kitchen counter. “Should we peruse our new home’s take-out options?” you ask, starting to reach for your phone.

Seokjin doesn’t answer, which causes you to look up and assess why not. When you meet his gaze, he’s got a look in his eyes that you’re starting to know well.

“Seriously?” you ask with a laugh. “You’re not too tired?”

“For you?” he scoffs, moving closer, predatory. “Never.”

“I’m all sweaty…”

“I deeply do not care.”

“I can do approximately zero percent of the work,” you warn him.

He towers over you, hands coming to grip the counter on either side of your body, caging you in. “Wasn’t planning on you doing any work at all,” he admits darkly, mouth close enough to your ear to tickle. “I’m suddenly remembering almost a year ago, when I promised to bend you over the kitchen table someday. And now, we have our own kitchen table, in our brand new place together.”

Your grin turns predatory in turn. “Alright, you convinced me.”

“Good,” he grunts, and grips your jaw gently enough that it doesn’t hurt, firmly enough that he can easily tilt you back to receive his biting, desperate kiss.

You moan immediately, melting back against the counter, thrilled by his urgency. You peel off his shirt, letting it drop onto the hardwood beneath your feet, and yours follows soon after. You lift your arms obediently when Jin tugs at the band of your sports bra, rolling it up and sliding it over your arms. He encases you with his arms, kissing you deeply, and you slide your hands down his stomach as you slide your tongue over his.

It isn’t long before he’s tugging your leggings and panties down in one hand, and you use your feet to free yourself the rest of the way. He’s rough today as he slides his digits between your legs, barely slicking them up before pushing two fingers as far into you as he can, twisting them before pulling them out again.

You breathe his name, clinging to him desperately, hips pushing back against him as he pumps his fingers in and out of you indelicately, causing the last syllable of his name to come out on a whine. You push absently at the waistband of his joggers, too weakly to actually get them anywhere. You make a noise of complaint, and he laughs lowly, punctuating the sound with a particularly vicious flick of the wrist, sending his fingers pistoning into your front wall.

“Jin,” you wail, assaulted by the sudden sensation. “Please, I -”

“Awfully needy for someone who had to be convinced,” he smirks, and if you weren’t halfway to your first orgasm of the night you might have whacked him for it.

But then his fingers are slipping out of you, and he’s pushing his joggers and boxers to the ground and pulling you towards the table, telling you quietly, “C’mere.”

When he said bend you over, he meant bend you over, apparently, because as soon as he has you close enough he’s spinning you to face the table, one palm firmly pushing between your shoulder blades until your front presses against the tabletop.

“This okay?” he murmurs behind you, the same hand that pushed you into place caressing a worshipful pattern back down your ribs, sliding over your ass and resting there, waiting.

“Very,” you groan, and shudder when he answers this by leaning his body over your back, his hands splayed on either side of your ribcage, holding him up.

“In that case,” he says, “arms up. Hold the other side.”

Your breath leaves you audibly and you obey, reaching to grip the opposite side of the table. He strokes the curve of your ass again, and then you feel him run the head of his cock up and down your slit - it sends a white-pleasure shock through you when it rubs firmly over your clit and you try to catch it on your entrance as he slides back up.

You whine again, and he chuckles before finally pushing into you.

You both groan as he bottoms out, yours turning to a gasp as he bumps something deep inside you that makes your entire abdomen flex in response.

“Shit,” you gasp, “you’re so deep this way -”

“Fuck,” he growls, the word torn from his throat as he starts to move. “Why are you so tight, I’m gonna last two minutes like this, damn -”

“Because I’m about three seconds from coming,” you say - or you try to. It comes out more like a moan, your voice shaky and tremulous, betraying you completely.

“Do it then,” he says, gripping your hips with one hand and reaching around to find your clit with another as he keeps a torturously steady pace. “Come all over me.”

His nimble fingers do the trick and it’s only seconds later that you’re following directions, pressing your forehead desperately into the wood of the table as your body trembles and shakes beneath Jin’s hands.

You feel your toes curling against the hardwood floor, feel your fingers go tight against the table’s edge, feel your pussy clench around him again and again and again, feel the sensation of light race down your legs and out to your fingertips, feel Jin’s cock slide against your pulsing walls, feel his hands come to your hips to pull you against each stroke.

You hear your first gasped breath, hear the slap of skin on skin, hear the huffs and groans of Jin’s broken breathing behind you as you slowly come back into your body, as the tremors in your legs die back down to tiny, interspersed shakes.

“Holy shit,” you manage, lifting your head off the table and trying to look at him over your shoulder.

“Can you take more?” he checks, his hand twitching on your hip like he’s keeping it in line.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he whispers, and pulls your hips flush against his, slamming into you, sliding out, slamming in again until you’re keening out syllables that don’t add up to words, eyes screwed shut, exhales warbling out like sobs.

“Take it so well,” he praises, his voice shattered, the words coming through a clenched jaw, as he breathes and focuses and tries to hang on, hips snapping.

He slows his pace and reaches for your shoulder, pulling you to straighten up, your back flush against his sticky chest. You moan at the change of angle, and then he slips out of you, turns you around again and lets you sit on the edge of the table. He reaches one arm around your shoulders to brace you and slides back in slowly.

Your head falls back, eyes closed.

“Can you look at me?” he breathes, chest jumping as he tries to keep it together.

With difficulty, you lift your head and open your eyes, finding his watching you intently. Gazes locked, he pumps once, twice, three more times and comes with a shudder, his head falling onto your shoulder as he spasms and groans deep and loud.

His hips slow and then eventually come to a stop. He stays buried deep inside you, lifting his head from your shoulder and bringing his other arm around your back.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you tell him thickly, your legs shaking.

He slips out of you gently, reaching down to wipe away a bit of mess that followed onto your thigh. “Don’t walk, then,” he tells you, and guides your arms around his neck before lifting you and carrying you through your new apartment towards the en suite.

He sets you gently on the edge of the tub and reaches to turn the shower on full blast. “Did we find towels?” he asks.

You lean against the tiled wall. “The box is on the bed.”

“Okay,” he says, then crouches down before you. “You good?”

“Mhm,” you tell him. He retreats, and you hear the telltale sign of tape being ripped off cardboard. He returns with two towels in hand and gently lifts you, guiding you over the edge of the tub and into the warm spray of water.

You lean against him heavily, sleepiness coming over you like a fog. He runs a hand over your hair affectionately, then leans down to whisper, “Four rooms to go.”

–

“Jin? Is the table set?”

“It’s set.”

“Can you open the wine?”

“Opening.”

“What about the -”

Seokjin takes your hands. You hadn’t even heard him enter the room. You’re too frazzled to even be startled.

“What are you so nervous for?” he asks, peering at you. “It’s Minji and Jungkook and our parents. We could literally serve pizza bagels in our pajamas and it would be fine.”

You sniff. “That actually sounds really good.”

Seokjin looks at you indulgently. “They won’t be here for another half hour. We have lots of time.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “You’re right. It’s just my first time hosting everyone at the same time here, in our place together - it just feels… significant.” Your parents and Seokjin’s family had been to the place you share several times in the last few months, but never together. Never for an event.

“I’m not saying I disagree,” he says gently. “But I promise, everything is more than fine.”

“You’re right,” you say, still unable to help, but glancing around the eating area for any detail you may have missed.

“Why don’t we try the wine?” Jin suggests.

“That’s for later,” you remind him.

“There’s plenty. We should make sure it’s good.” He sends you a wink.

You sigh, knowing exactly what he’s up to. “A small pour,” you instruct. “I’m gonna go grab my phone off the charger, I’ll be right there.”

You step through your bedroom without bothering to turn the lamp on, moving by memory over to your nightstand where your phone awaits. When you turn around to head back, you bump into Seokjin, lingering behind you in the shadowy room.

“What are you doing?” you laugh. “I thought you were opening the wine.”

He takes your hands again, how he had just minutes ago by the kitchen table. “You’re right,” he says, ignoring your question. “Tonight does feel significant.”

You feel your brows furrow. “Jin?”

He takes a breath, like he’s steadying himself. “There’s something I want to ask you before everyone gets here.”

Your heart drops into your ass.

He continues. “I thought for a long time about all the different ways I could do this, because you deserve something spectacular. But, I got tired of waiting for an idea that felt good enough and I just want you. So…” He trails off, digs in his pocket, pushes something square and velvet into your hands.

“Jin,” you whisper, heart pounding. It feels right, somehow, that it’s happening like this. Just you and him, the apartment - the world - silent around you, speaking quietly through the dark.

It’s always been you and Seokjin, in the dark.

“So,” he continues, like if he stops he’ll lose his nerve, “I want to ask you… if you want to get married. If you’ll marry me.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Yes.”

He wraps you in a hug, and you say, muffled by his shirt, “Can we go back in the light so I can see the ring?”

Later, he sends you a sly sideways smile. “You know my sister’s going to spot that before she’s even through the door.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Maybe I’ll keep my hands in my pockets all night, just so I don’t have to hear her.”

He bumps you lightly with his hip so you’ll look up at him. “Are you happy?” he asks quietly.

You think about everything you’ve been through - a lifetime of wanting, years of misunderstanding, and over a year between figuring it out and now. Finally, finally, everything has aligned, every piece in place.

“Never been happier,” you tell him, resting a hand on his heart.

“Good,” he says, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Let’s stay that way for a long, long time.”

–

“No, you hang up first!” Minji squealed for the ninth time, before blowing many kisses into the phone and finally hanging up with her boyfriend. She was twenty, in love, and had somehow lost you from her bedroom during the course of the phone call.

Calling your name quietly, she’d left her bedroom, typing a text to you as she peered into each of the rooms of the house, even the basement where Jungkook and his friends were still drinking.

“Don’t get alcohol poisoning,” she warned them. “Has anyone seen Y/N?”

Finally, she decided you must have gone home and started padding back to her bedroom, sending you one more angry text to find in the morning.

As she passed Seokjin’s room, she noticed his door was open about a foot. She stepped closer, just meaning to pull it closed - they did that for each other if they fell asleep with it open, it was just muscle-memory at that point - and then froze.

You were in Seokjin’s bed, fast asleep, curled up facing the door. For a second, she thought you were alone, but then she spotted Jin’s arm over your belly, his shoulders peeking out from behind yours.

She bit her lip, staring, silent. In his sleep, Seokjin’s arm flexed against you, and Minji watched as you instinctively reached up to touch his arm, butterfly light, before letting your hand fall back to the mattress again.

She closed the door quietly, continued down the hall to her own room.

She knew better than to interfere, knew better than to meddle and mess it up. But still...

Maybe someday, she thought. Maybe someday you’d figure it out.

<- Prev

wow i can't believe it's over!! thank you so much for being here along the way - i know this was very different from my normal and i hope you had a really fun time reading! <3

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

Note

I went scrolling through anti ao3 tags and blogs because I was bored and not doing the shit I need to do and you know for a group of people who every year twice a year throw such hissy fits you’d think they’d at least have a point, but all their arguments make no sense(except their one main one that they almost never use?--why??) Like ok, there is one argument for why people shouldn’t give money to ao3, and that is the argument that ao3 is bad website because it has bad policies and refuses to moderate. I disagree, but ultimately if someone thinks that ao3 should update the TOS and moderate what fan fiction they allow, it makes sense that that person would be against the site making money because… well they are against the sites founding principles, I’m not shocked they don’t want it to succeed.

But the rest of the arguments!? Man they make no sense at all

“They are scamming you there is no way they need that much money”, ”its immoral to give money to ao3 because they already have so much!”, “Even if ao3 was perfect, its ridicuslous to give 100K to a fan fiction site!” — like… maybe I’m the asshole here, but ao3 made about 250,000 this spring, so they make about 500,000 a year… that’s just not that much money! That could what, pay for 10-30 employees at best! And that’s not counting the actual cost of all the shit they currently spend their money on! I get that ao3 is run by unpaid volunteers so antis think that 500K is a lot, but that’s not true! That’s not a lot of money at all! It might be a lot of money for an individual but for a company that’s practically pennies. Wikipedia, which granted is a lot bigger than ao3, with 57,218,269 pages to ao3s 6 million works, makes 155 million to ao3 500,000. According to antis ao3 has over a million in reserve and well according to wikipedia they have net assets of US$240 million. One is clearly more than the other!

I saw someone say that servers should be 1K, which is so stupid and out of touch with eveything I almost died laughing. I had a project using firebase this semester, I created 2 projects within firebase one for my school project and one to dick around and figure out. I accidentally set my test database to a “pay as you go” version instead of a free version. And almost had to pay a thousand dollars for the month! I wasn’t even using that database it was just sitting there but I check my google billing to make sure I wasn’t paying anything and it turns out I was! 150 dollars actually so that sucks! (My fault though)

Also also I keep seeing that its ridiculous and evil to pay the much for a site that “doesn’t improve” but the “doesn’t improve” is referring to A) no changes in TOS, which I don’t want to happen any way so good. B) the fact that it’s still in beta, which I don’t give a fuck about and I don’t understand why I should care. I think antis are dont like that the layout hasn’t changed but I don’t want to the layout to change. Also things come out of beta because they are a commercial product to be sold(this is very simplified), which is why some things come out of beta to waaaay to early and are glitchy as all hell! Ao3 isn’t being sold to me its slowly being built and archiving things that would probably be lost, and it will probably technically be in beta forever, but it doesn't effect me and I don't care. Would it be better if it came out of beta only to continously updated like a lot other shit does. I don't really play video games but I know ppl that do so I know at least once a game came out that didn't really work and people needed to later update shit for it to function and I'd argue thats worse than a functional website just being in beta forever. C) The claim that it hasn’t changed at all, which is just not true! They added the exclude section and eventually added the blocking shit. The blocking took too long to come out, so I guess in this sea of dumb criticism theres at least 1 piece of critism that makes sense. And finally again I don’t want it to change! Every other week we are all bitching that Tumblr or YouTube or Instagram or any other app are needlessly changing the layout or adding shit we don’t want in order to keep up with latest trends, make it more marketable or try and attracted new users. Ao3 is great because its never going to change. Ao3 and Craigslist will always kinda look like ass and I’m ok with that. If it aint broke ¯_(ツ)_/¯

I could keep going but there is no point. I just think they are all so stupid.

The thing about beta is the funniest because AO3, like oldschool shit from the 90s, has actual criteria for coming out of beta.

It's not "we've been going for 10 years" or "we want to sell the product": it's "we've checked off all the things on this checklist".

And they still haven't done them all, so it's still in beta.

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amhrosina · 2 years

Text

No Funny Business (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: I wrote this in two hours and it’s not beta read so if you see any mistakes, that’s why! Sorry, but neighbor/dad’s best friend!frank will always put me on my knees. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

Summary: Frank catches you throwing a party while your parents are out of town. When you get him alone, neither of you can stand the tension that’s been bubbling up between you since you moved in.

(Warnings: oh my god this is PURE filth, p in v, oral (female receiving), spitting in mouths??, porn with plot tbh, age gap, use of daddy (but you’re not calling Frank daddy so???)

“We’re going to be gone for less than 24 hours. We’ll be back at 10 o’clock sharp.” Your dad paused for emphasis and pointed his finger at you. “No funny business, you hear me? Frank will be watching the house and listening for any loud music or parties going on here.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes in your dad’s face. He wasn’t always this hard on you when your parents left town for the night, but a disastrous party a few years ago had ruined any chance of them trusting you with the house again. So much booze had been spilled throughout the night that you could still smell the stink of it sometimes, even though you had paid for the entire house to be re-carpeted.

“Dad,” you pointed out, “I’m 25. Don’t you think I’m a little too old for a babysitter?”

He shot you a scolding look. His left eyebrow always twitched when he was stressed, and as he looked over you, you noticed it start to have small spasms.

“No. Funny. Business.”

You feigned innocence and nodded. You weren’t complaining that Frank may come around – he was older and hot and your dad’s best friend, which somehow made him hotter – but you were most certainly inviting a few friends over to hang out tonight.

Your parents loaded the last of their belongings in the car, and your dad shot you a look that warned severe consequences if he heard anything about you or the house while he was gone.

You smiled, waving as they backed out of the driveway and drove their car down the street. It wasn’t until they had turned the corner and you had counted to thirty that you booked it inside, hurrying to change into an outfit more appropriate for a party. Your friends were well aware that your parents would be leaving town for the night, and word had spread fairly quickly that you would be throwing a party while they were gone.

Frank was an obstacle that you had already accounted for. He usually didn’t get home until late anyways, but if he happened to stop by, you were planning on offering him booze and some fun in exchange for his silence. It had worked before, and Frank was good on his word that he wouldn’t tell your dad about the parties you threw when he was gone.

The last party you’d thrown was for your 25th birthday, and Frank had come over with a bottle of tequila and a kiss as your present. It was an innocent peck on the cheek, one that you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to remember, but the thought of it kept you awake at night, biting your lip to quiet your moans as you came all over your fingers.

Frank lived by himself and was always nice to you, even when your parents would spend hours talking his ear off about how irresponsible you were. He had helped you change your tire a few times, and even offered to be the guy you called when you were too drunk and needed a ride home. He was a gentleman, one you’d been dying to sink your teeth into forever, but he was also your dad’s best friend and next-door neighbor. Frank was off-limits, technically, but that didn’t stop you from fantasizing about him rutting into you when he came over for dinner.

Your core throbbed at the thought of it, and you had to take a breath before pulling your tight dress on. A girl could dream, you supposed.

Hours later, the party was going spectacularly. There were at least 75 people milling around your kitchen and living room, and even more in your backyard. The music was loud, but you didn’t really care. It was a Saturday, and your other neighbors were usually so drunk by 7:30 that they didn’t remember anything anyways.

You brought the red cup to your lips, sipping straight tequila and glancing around the living room. ‘No Worries’ by Lil Wayne was playing on the loudspeakers, and you nodded your head to the beat. You were known for throwing wild parties, but you preferred to sit on the sidelines and observe during them. People were fascinating, and you loved how easy it was to pick up on who was fucking who from your hometown.

“I’m pretty sure this counts as funny business.”

Frank’s husky voice in your ear startled you, causing your drink to fumble in your hands. Most of the tequila you had been sipping on spilled down the front of your dress, and you let out a small yelp as the material absorbed the liquor.

“Ah shit,” Frank chuckled, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweets.”

You were fairly sober, mostly just a little tipsy, but that didn’t stop you from giggling into your palm about the situation.

“It’s okay, Frankie.” You moved to shuffle past him, heading towards the kitchen to get a towel, when Frank’s hands grazed your waist. You abruptly stopped moving and turned to face him. His face was centimeters away from yours, and you were pretty sure he could smell the booze on your breath.

“Let me,” he mumbled, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up the stairs. You followed him into your bedroom, confused as to how he knew where you slept, but you didn’t question it. When you made it to the bathroom, Frank started opening cabinets and drawers, searching for what you could only assume to be a towel.

“They’re in the closet.” You tipped your head towards the linen closet on the other side of the bathroom. You leaned against the counter, watching Frank’s back muscles adjust as he bent down to search for a towel.

When he had finally found the thing he was searching for, Frank made his way across the room again. His arms encased you, and you nearly swore under your breath. Frank’s chest was close to yours, closer than you were used to with him. The sound of the sink turning on behind you was alarming.

Duh. He was getting the towel wet so that he could clean the tequila out of your dress. No other reason. You felt your cheeks go warm and tried to look anywhere but at the very large man in front of you.

“Didn’t mean to scare you earlier.” Frank breathed, focusing on the stain beginning to form on your torso. He sat down on one knee and began lightly rubbing the stain.

“It’s fine.” You smiled, watching as his tongue darted out the corner of his mouth.

“Your dad probably won’t be too happy to hear about his little girl throwing a rager while he’s gone.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, since he won’t be finding out, right?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

He glanced up, smirking.

“I certainly won’t be the one to tell him.” His eyes dropped back down, refocusing on the task at hand.

“Good.” You breathed. Frank’s hand was getting alarmingly close to the underside of your boobs, and it was getting harder to focus. He didn’t look like he was getting turned on, but Frank was a hard man to read.

As his hand moved higher, his pinkie lightly brushed the front of your skintight dress, right over your nipple.

You coughed to try and cover up the embarrassing moan that left your body, but Frank’s hand halted. You could feel red creeping up your neck, and you looked away in embarrassment.

His finger slowly moved again, darting over the same spot. You let out a slow breath and looked down, only to find his eyes boring into yours. He did it again, and you couldn’t help the moan that crawled out of your throat.

“You like that, baby?” His voice was huskier than you’d ever heard it, and you had to focus on not falling to your knees in front of him. He dropped the towel and shifted his body, placing one hand on your waist while the other kept a constant rotation around your hard nipple.

“Oh god, yes.” You moaned, not caring anymore if he heard how desperate you were. The low chuckle he let out was sinful. He was still on one knee in front of you, and you tried very hard not to let this position go to your head. Either way, you had already agreed to carve this memory into your brain for when you got lonely at night.

Frank’s hands made their way down your hips, cupping the back of your knees and pulling your legs apart. His sharp intake of breath had you smirking. You weren’t wearing any underwear, and you could feel your wetness beginning to slide down your inner thighs.

Frank’s fingers ran up the inside of your legs, stopping to swipe some of your arousal onto his fingertips. He glanced up at you and brought his hand to his lips, tasting you. You resisted the urge to squeeze your thighs together. What a sight to behold: Frank Castle, on his knees for you, licking your juices off his fingers.

“Sweet.” He mumbled, gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise. “You want this, baby?”

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, spreading your legs wider and pulling your dress up to give him full access, “Fuck yes, I want this.”

The smirk that formed on his face shouldn’t have been so fucking hot. He leaned in, and the second his tongue touched your clit you knew you were a goner. His tongue expertly swirled around the bundle of nerves, sucking and licking in perfect intervals. Your knees shook as his fingers began to toy with your entrance, not fully pushing them in, but swiping over it a few times.

“Please, Frank.” You groaned as he licked a burning stripe up your core, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking harshly. He finally pushed two fingers in your hole, pumping them slowly. The noises you were making were obscene, but you didn’t care.

His tongue picked up speed, swiping over your clit so fast that you thought you would pass out. He added another finger into you, and you were blinded by the pleasure he was giving you.

“Oh shit,” you moaned, “shit, shit shit shit.” You were panting now, knees shaking so badly that you were seconds away from falling down. Frank’s strong body held you in place though, and the orgasm he drew from you was dreadfully sinful. Your vision ran white, and you swore you saw stars as he licked you through your orgasm. He didn’t pull his fingers out of you, or stop flicking his tongue over your clit, until you were a sobbing, blissed out mess in his hands.

Your heart was pounding harder than it ever had, but when Frank stood to his full height, towering over you, and brought his fingers to your mouth, you swore your heart fully stopped.

You wrapped your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue around the rough pads. His eyes darkened, and you could’ve sworn he almost let out a moan. When you were done licking him clean, his hand moved swiftly to your jaw, cupping it tight enough to make you groan, but not tight enough to hurt.

“I wonder if daddy knows how filthy his little girl’s mouth is.” Frank muttered, pushing his body into yours. The counter was digging into your back, but your brain was so heavily focused on Frank that you couldn’t seem to muster up enough effort to care. Frank let your jaw go with a push. His hands fisted the bottom of your dress, still pushed up around your waist, and pulled it over your head.

You were now bare in front of your hot, older neighbor, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you’d already gotten tonight.

“God damn, sweetheart.” Frank’s voice was thick as he ran his thumb over your pebbled nipple. The overstimulation from your first orgasm was still present, but the thought of having Frank inside of you was too exciting for you to complain about it.

Frank gripped the underside of your thighs and hoisted you onto the counter. You yelped at the coldness touching your ass and legs, but quickly forgot about it when Frank lifted his shirt over his head.

You’d seen Frank shirtless before countless times. At neighborhood barbeques, swimming with your parents, and even watering his lawn, but you gulped anyways. Frank was a sight to behold. Broad shoulders led down to muscular arms. A wide chest ran into a toned torso and so many abs you couldn’t count them.

The sound of Frank’s belt clinking brought you out of your lusty haze. His boots were next. Then, in a swift movement, Frank pushed his pants and underwear down, baring himself to you fully. Your eyes widened at his cock, thick and veiny and hard.

“You sure you want this, sweetheart?”

You nodded, stuttering out a yes before Frank pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, gripping your thighs like his life depended on it.

“’ve wanted to do this since you moved in five years ago, baby.” Frank mumbled into your neck, biting softly before licking over the mark. His cock was resting at your entrance, and you clenched your toes in anticipation.

“Why didn’t you?” Your voice came out in a breathy moan.

“Didn’t know you wanted it, too.”

“I don’t believe that.” You muttered, digging your nails into his shoulders, “I’ve had a crush on you since you introduced yourself.”

Frank gripped his cock, swiping it over your entrance.

“Fucking tease.” You mutter, lightly biting his jaw.

He chuckled and in one swift movement, pushed himself into you. The breath vanished from your lungs, and you let out a stunted moan at his length stretching you out. He gave you two seconds to adjust before pulling almost all the way out and slamming into you again.

His pace was animalistic. He pounded into you, gripping your ass so tightly that you knew you’d have bruises the next day. His lips found yours in a searing kiss and his tongue plunged into your mouth, licking every corner. You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. The lustful look in his eyes was something you’d never let yourself forget.

Your moans filled the room, followed by the sound of skin slapping skin and Frank’s muted groans as he thrusted into you. He was fucking you so hard you thought you might not walk for a week afterwards.

Frank’s thrusts became sloppy, and you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out in question.

“Oh fuck, baby. You want me to spit into your mouth?”

You nodded, whining. He obliged, gripping your open jaw and spitting onto your tongue. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and you let out a wild, obscene groan.

Frank let out a loud grunt, probably the loudest noise he’d made all night, and pushed himself all the way into you. His eyes were wild and lustful as he came in warm spurts, coating your walls in white.

You panted, leaning back and resting your head on the mirror. Frank was breathing into your shoulder, lightly running his fingers along the sides of your thighs.

“Holy shit.” you muttered, chuckling. “Holy shit.”

Frank smirked, kissing you on the nose and pulling out of you. You both groaned at the friction. Frank leaned into your hold, lifting you off the counter and carrying you into your bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, hovering over you and planting small kisses around your face.

The party, which you had completely forgotten about until now, was still going strong downstairs. You glanced around your bedroom and then looked at Frank.

“How did you know where my bedroom was?” You asked.

Frank laughed and tipped his chin in the direction of your window. You glanced over, realizing that directly across from your window was Frank’s bedroom window.

“Oh god, I hope I’ve been closing the blinds.” You mutter, giggling.

“You forget, sometimes.” He kisses your nose again.

“Whoops!” You laugh.

The next morning, you’re awoken with soft kisses on your thigh. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes, only to find Frank, fully dressed, laying his head on your legs and grinning.

“Good morning, sleepy head. You’ve got a lot of cleaning to do and only about an hour and a half to do it.”

Frank’s word process in your sleep addled brain, and your eyes go wide when you realize you had fallen asleep next to Frank and didn’t clean up the party like you’d planned to.

“Oh shit!”

You jumped out of bed, pulling your legs out from under Frank’s head. You bounced around your room, pulling on any articles of clothing within reach. As you stumbled down the stairs, you realized in horror that the house looked like a disaster. Frank’s heavy footsteps behind you were the only thing keeping you from crying.

“Baby, relax, okay? I’ll help you. We’ll get it cleaned, don’t worry.”

“Frank, you don’t have to do that. This is my fault. Of course, this would happen. I get the best dick of my life and then the next day my parents murder me for ruining their house.”

“Best dick of your life, huh?” Frank chuckled, grabbing a garbage bag from the kitchen.

You scoffed and grabbed the broom, praying you’d be able to clean the mess up before your parents came home and killed you.

Frank, as it turns out, is an impeccable cleaner. He guided you through the house, giving you a task in each room until the house looked the way it had before the party. You had just finished putting the cleaning supplies away when your parents' car pulled into the driveway.

Frank quickly sat down at the bar, sipping his coffee and pretending to read the newspaper. You tried to look natural, grabbing the eggs out of the fridge and cracking them into a bowl. This was a totally normal morning. No sex to be had here, dad!

Your dad’s booming voice had you clutching an egg so tightly that you almost crushed it between your fingers.

“Frank! How was she? Anything crazy happen?”

Frank smiled at your dad, instantly putting on a I-definitely-didn't-have-sex-with-your-daughter-last-night face.

“Oh, she was great. Totally a good girl, right?” He glanced at you, and you turned your full attention onto whisking the eggs.

“Mhmm.” You bit your lip to hide your smirk.

Your mom appeared in the doorway and looked at your randomly thrown together outfit in disdain.

“Honey, maybe next time we have company, wear something more suitable, yeah?”

You glanced down, fully taking in the outfit you had put on. Nothing says hungover and thoroughly fucked like your old Carebear sweatpants and a shirt that read “I heart Dilfs”.

You nodded at your mom and shot Frank a glance as your parents made their way to the living room. The smug bastard was chuckling into his coffee, pretending to read the newspaper again. You didn’t know for sure, but you thought maybe this thing with Frank would last longer than one lustful night during a party. The looks Frank sent you while you ate your eggs and listened to your parents talk about their trip told you you were probably right.

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit

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oleander-nin · 1 year

Text

The Weight of a Letter(10)

A/N: I'm so sorry this one's so short. I'll make the next chapter upwards of 3000 words as consolation. Thank you dearly to @faetaiity and @astral--horrorshow for beta reading. I'm brain dead and can't look at this any more or I'll explode. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

Taglist? If you want to be added or removed, just say so: @ssak-i @sinister-things @ancreativename @t0ta11y-n0t-cup1d @idiotreblogger @whygz @lexiechr@10yagurlchip01 @rex-ray @sunsersilversky @theavianlady

Part 1 - Previous - Next

Words: 900

Content warnings: not much, dark themes, yan themes

Chapter 10: A Hidden Fracture

I carefully close the door to the guest room, shuffling over to the bed. I glance at the door, biting my lip. I couldn’t imagine how Irma would react to my phone suddenly being back. As far as she knew, I gave it to a normal human kid who would drop it off in person, not toss it on the fire escape. I needed to make up an excuse.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll say they dropped it off at school? No, that wouldn’t work. Irma’s with me most of the day. Maybe I’ll just say I ran into them at some point. I didn’t need to worry about an excuse until tomorrow anyway. I have all night to come up with one. I lay on my stomach as I plop onto the bed, holding my phone in front of me. I power it on, watching the phone slowly come back to life. It was like brand new.

I couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief when the company screen passed and my familiar wallpaper shone bright in the dim light of the room. My phone was fixed. Donatello actually fixed my phone. I hold my hand over my mouth, biting back a squeal of delight. For once in the months of paranoia and torment, something was truly going right. Even the letters, which I admit I had gotten emotionally dependent on, weren’t as exciting as they used to be. Especially with everything happening. Irma’s theories were convincing, sure, but it still didn’t make sense. I shake the thoughts of the letters out of my head. Maybe Donatello and his brothers were the friends I needed. I hope I can introduce them to Irma soon.

My eyes drift over to the vase on the nightstand. I had moved it to stay here with me in the days I’ve spent with Irma. I tap the side of my still locked phone, contemplating. Technically, the police cleared my apartment and it was safe to move back in. But did I trust them? What if they missed something important? What if my apartment got broken into again?

What if they were already there, waiting for me to return?

I shudder, trying to shake off the thoughts that had dug their claws into my brain. I couldn’t go back. Not yet. I quickly reopen my phone, pulling up different articles on locks and security systems. If I was going to move back in anytime soon, I needed to be safe. They wouldn’t be getting away this easily. My eyes skim the words on the page as I read comparisons for different locks. I chew on my lip, barely noticing the sharp sting or the sudden taste of copper.

A sudden buzz from the device in my hands accompanied by a small pop up notification startles me out of my thoughts. I stare at the alert for a moment before pressing on the notification to view it in full. I just received a text from Donatello. The name stands proud at the top of the messaging screen, a bright purple and magenta D logo set as his profile. I’m a bit surprised to see it, but shrug. It makes sense he added his number, he was the one to fix my phone anyway. My eyes drop to read his message, wondering what it contains. I needed to thank him for my phone anyway, might as well do it now.

Donatello: Is your phone treating you well? I mean, of course it is, I fixed it.

I snicker at the text, rolling my eyes. Sure, the happenstance meeting on the fire escape was a bit weird, but Donatello and his brothers were endearing in an odd way. Especially Donatello’s small quips and ego. It was entertaining.

I send a quick confirmation of my happiness with the phone, as well as a thank you. I don’t want him to think I was rude. If all goes well, we can be good friends. I close the message thread before looking through my phone to see if he added or changed anything else. My settings are still the same, as are all my previous apps and conversations. The only thing he added was his and his brothers number, four small little contacts added to my already small list.

I open up Mikey’s contact, my thumbs hovering over the keys. He was the one who seemed most excited to see me, so he would be my best bet in making plans. Hopefully.

I send him a quick text, hoping he’d see it soon. A few moments pass and I grin as my phone lets off another quiet buzz. I watch Mikey’s ecstatic messages roll in, my mood improving even more. It was nice to talk to him, considering what seemed to be the oldest brother insisted they leave so soon yesterday.

I feel a warm buzz in my chest as he invites me to dinner the next day, each text of his more bold and ecstatic than the last. I chew on my lip, wondering how I’d tell Irma. She knew I didn’t have any other friends. Maybe I can tell her this was how I was picking up my phone. Yeah, that was a good idea.

I send back a short text, accepting his invitation to dinner. I couldn’t wait, he claimed to be quite the master chef after all.

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flameshadowconjuring · 1 month

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I did not have high expectations (mechanically) for the Stormlight/Cosmere rpg, same as with any IP tie-in game, so I was pleasantly surprised when I read the beta rules. From what I have read, I would rather run or play in the Cosmere rpg than the three rpgs that I have played extensively (DnD 5e, FFG Star Wars, Pathfinder 2e). I am going to be comparing the Cosmere rpg to these three frames of reference of mine, and explain what I like about it. This is all theory for now, though I will run the Bridge 9 one-shot in a couple of weeks for my playgroup. And yes, I know that most of the Cosmere rpg ain't novel. Beyond borrowing from 2-3 of my three frames of reference, the initiative is basically the one from 'Shadow of the Demon Lord', etc.

I have mixed feelings about the plot die. I don't actually like narrative mechanics in the first place. That being said, no system I've played was devoid of mechanics I dislike, and the plot die is (almost) the least objectionable a core narrative mechanic could be for me, beyond nonexistence. The obvious point of comparison for me is obviously the Star Wars system. The plot die's opportunity and complication are basically analogous to SW's triumph/advantage and despair/threat. In addition to that, the lead designer of the Cosmere rpg, Andrew Fischer, also worked on the SW system.

I think that the plot die is better than the Star Wars dicepool mechanic in every possible way. First of all, the plot die is an opt-in kind of deal. Barring a few player abilities (the existence of which is my only criticism of the plot die), the GM decides whether it gets rolled or not, with the rules advising the GM to use it roughly 30% of the time, specifically in exciting moments. In Star Wars, every roll produces these narrative effects. Yes, technically, 1s and 20s also produce complications and opportunities in the Cosmere rpg, but the designers added them because people played like that was already the case because of how they are used to crits from other games. A tenth chance of one of these is much lower than almost 100% like in SW. Anyway, the point is that when we played the Star Wars system, having to come up with narrative stuff on every roll was a chore, rather than fun and exciting. Sometimes I would get a triumph on a roll for a routine check, and rather than that being exciting, it was more like 'uhh, what does this even mean?'. Sure, there are mechanical ways in Star Wars to spend advantages and threats and so on. What tended to happen in combat though was that unless you used advantages to crit someone or auto-fire, you just used it to give someone else a bonus die. And the most likely result from a bonus die beyond a blank was getting an advantage. The same principle happened out of combat, where we often took strain for threats and regained for advantages. A lot of abstract resources were pushed around, with a negligible net effect. Certainly not something worth that giant hassle. Also, sometimes you would get a triumph effect and three threats. That was always hard to interpret.

Secondly, the plot die is way simpler, which has a whole host of benefits. In SW, there are six different narrative dice with specialized symbols. You have to buy a lot of overpriced plastic to even play the game. The plot die of the Cosmere is a single d6. Sure, its nicer to use the custom one you can buy from Brotherwise, but the beta rules advise on how to use a normal d6 for the plot die. 1,2 are complications, with a bonus to your roll equal to twice what you rolled (+2 or +4), 3,4 are blanks, and 5,6 are opportunities. That is easy to remember, since higher numbers=better narrative result. While you could technically do the same with SW, the fact that there are six of them, including d12s, makes it completely impractical. Also, the dice in SW have either only all positive effects or only all negative effects. If you are gonna do this entire narrative crap, at least do interesting stuff with it, like higher chance of success but with negative narrative effect. Those make for better stories and better game design. And oh look, that is exactly what the plot die does. So, yeah. In case you couldn't tell, I hate the action resolution dicepool mechanic of SW.

I really like the progression system of the Cosmere rpg, with the exception of using milestone advancement (though its inclusion's suckery is mitigated by the goal/reward thing). It is actually conceptually very simple, but very flexible, meaning there is a lot of meaningful choice without overwhelming a new player. Every level, you get (in addition to a couple other things) one talent from one of your skill trees, called paths. I am currently a player in a Pf2e campaign, and leveling up is a chore rather than fun. Different levels give you different kinds of feats, so it is not very straight forward. It also takes a long time to read all the feats I qualify for, most of which don't even interest me. Also, it is very easy in Pathfinder to screw up if you don't plan out your characters progression in advance. When I started, I took the ranger's crossbow feat. Turns out that was a trap: no other feats actually help crossbows, and most of the good ranger feats require you to attack multiple times or in melee, neither of which a crossbow is made for. In a skill tree system like Cosmere, it is very easy to identify what talents I can take, and I can immediately see whether a talent is something I can build on by seeing how many talents are further down from it.

Star Wars also uses skill trees, but you basically get one big tree with a lot of filler talents you have to take to progress, but which you aren't actually interested in. The Cosmere rpg has a stronger focus on mixing and matching from different trees, with trees going less deep, having less filler. That looks more fun to me. This in-built multipathing is really cool. Multiclassing in DnD 5e was an afterthought, and is either very suboptimal or very broken, with barely anything in-between. I like how the Cosmere rpg is like 'hey, most characters fit multiple archetypes, lets reflect that in the game by not only supporting multiclassing from the ground up, but also actively encourage it'. Also the one talent per level thing makes leveling very manageable from a complexity standpoint.

Moving on to the magic, I really like that PCs don't start out magical. You earn your cool powers through play. Also, they said that they balanced the heroic (non-magical) and invested (magical) paths against each other, so that it is perfectly valid to only take talents from heroic paths and those who take invested path talents will often alternate between those and heroic ones. If true, that sounds awesome. And of course, the magic is Sanderson magic, so its really good. The best way to encourage creativity in players is to give them a smallish list of options, but have these options be very flexible. That is exactly how the Stormlight magic system works, with characters being closer to superheroes than DnD spellcasters. I think that is way more interesting. One of the frustrating things with DnD 5e is that the magic is never explained in a way that the GM can intuit how it works. Instead, they just spell out exactly what any given spell does, making them very rigid. Spellcasters have too many options, each of which is super rigid. Worst of both worlds. With the Cosmere, though I am not an arcanist superfan, I do understand the magic well enough that I am confident in adjudicating creative uses of powers (which the system explicitly supports!). Investiture, which is basically mp, is also just so much cleaner than spellslots, a vestigial leftover from vancian magic that the DnD designers were too cowardly to kill completely.

Finally, combat. I dislike armor class, so I am a big fan of armor just reducing damage, like the soak value in SW or DR in Gurps. The initiative system has me most excited to be honest. I think it will really speed up combat in multiple ways. For one, there is no die rolling and writing down initiative values and ordering them. Players basically just say when they want to do their turn. This also should make them more attentive, since they can't just wait for the GM to call their name. It also means that players can guarantee to go after each other, so that should encourage cooperation and teamwork. The distinction between fast two-action turns and slow three-action turns looks like it will force players to make a meaningful choice every turn. Overall, looks like a simple, clean and fast initiative system. The two-three actions remind me of Pf2e, though notably the reaction is much more relevant in the Cosmere rpg.

The graze rule, where a character on a miss can still spend 1 focus to deal their weapon's damage dice to their target, is very interesting. My initial instinct was to think that it is really OP. It would probably be a really OP rule if armor did not reduce damage, but given that it has gone through extensive playtesting, I assume that it is actually balanced. Assuming it is balanced, I think its pretty cool, since it means that you still managed to do something, even if you missed your one attack of the round. Makes it less frustrating.

So yeah, those were my main thoughts on the Cosmere rpg. It is not my most anticipated rpg, but I do intend to back and run it and am also really looking forward to the world guide as a fan of the books.

#cosmere #cosmere rpg #stormlight rpg

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asexual-society · 4 months

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Just looking for some advice about how to tell my best friend I’m aroace. I was trying to find a way to ask other people in the community and found this blog so I hope it’s okay to ask. I do apologise if it’s not.

About three years ago, I tried telling her. I hinted at it, but in the end, I was too scared to actually tell her. I have two other really close friends that know, but one of them figured out I was ace before I did haha. They’re both very understanding of me due to their respective identities.

Recently, it’s been eating at me more and more. I write fanfiction and have been really wanting to explore aroace characters. We are actually co-writing a fic now and she’s one of my beta readers too. One of the characters I write the most about gives me major aroace vibes and I want to write about it and discuss with readers about it. The problem is that she reads my stuff. She’s supportive like that.

I’m just scared about her reaction is all. I don’t particularly care about what my family thinks because I have no intention of telling them. Not out of fear or anything, but for other reasons that don’t really matter at this point in my life. It’s my best mate I’m worried about :/ I don’t want her perception of me to be changed nor do I want her to start saying things like “you haven’t met the right person” or whatever.

This was long. I’m sorry 😭 I kept it anonymous because even though she doesn’t have tumblr, she knows my account and I’d rather not risk her seeing this :)

Hey Anon, I'm not gonna lie, I hate coming out. I've been putting off coming out to some people closest to me for so many years. But on the other hand! I totally understand having a hard time ripping the plaster off, and the feeling of it eating at you, so I can give you a couple of low-confrontation methods that might work in a pinch, and a couple of slightly scarier options and how to deal with them in case you're feeling brave?

You said she knows your blog but doesn't have tumblr, so you could try posting more about aroace stuff on here, or put it in your bio. That way, since she doesn't follow you, the chances of her seeing it are low enough that you have plausible deniability that you didn't think she would see it, and if she does, you were Definitely just about to tell her. Effectiveness: 3/10, she might not see it, in which case you'll be worrying about it for nothing.

A similar vibe of coming out is letting someone else do it for you. This only works if you have mutual friends, either online or irl. You don't have to be there when it happens, but I find it's less unpleasant if you are; finding out someone has outed you after the fact is for sure worse, even if you intended it to happen, but someone else offhandedly bringing it up takes the power out of your hands, which is scary in a different way, but it can technically work. Effectiveness: 5/10, it'll do, but it will not feel good. Requires mutual friends. If one of your friends is a loudmouth with no filter it might even happen organically at some point, but you can't count on it, so if you are there (even just in groupchat form) being able to steer the conversation in that direction might give you the small push you need to say it yourself, since it's way harder to just bring it up out of the blue by yourself, and also having another already supportive person present who has your back always helps. Effectiveness: 8/10, getting onto the topic might be hard, but having moral support is good. Requires mutual friends.

Similarly, you could engineer a situation where you're coming out to her and one other person who you know will be supportive (or you're already out to, if you're okay with a little deception) at the same time. She can't say anything shitty if there's someone else already there being cool about it. You don't even have to be coming out to the other person, you can just mention it while they're there (so it works the same as the above, except a little more intentional). Effectiveness: 8/10, points deducted for deception, but if it gets the job done, does it matter? Requires mutual friends.

Bargaining. Set yourself a deadline and have people to hold you accountable to do it. Effectiveness: 3/10, absolutely would not work on me, will probably not feel good, could be the kick you need to do it but only if your brain works that way.

Come out to someone else first and use the momentum to tell her right after. Works best if the first person you tell isn't close enough to you that it'll be really bad if they suck about it, but if they do suck, you can use that as a jumping off point to tell your friend (e.g. I told someone I was aroace and they said XYZ shitty thing), and you can sneak in an example of something that was hurtful that your friend will know to avoid saying. And if they don't suck about it (fingers crossed!), it could give you the confidence and boost you need to tell your friend. Effectiveness 6/10, requires you to come out twice as many times. You may be able to substitute in someone else being aphobic but not directly to you as a jumping off point instead.

You could try testing the waters by mentioning that you headcanon the character as aroace and seeing her reaction, if you haven't already, and then you can say "I sort of relate to them actually" and see where that gets you? Effectiveness: 5/10, high chance of backing out at the last minute, high uncertainty means this might be the scariest option.

If you have ways of making yourself do scary things already, do as many of those as you can, but if not, I can tell you that when I want to do something I'm low key terrified of but I know will help me in the long run, I write myself a letter to open as far in the future as I feel like (there are websites you can use for this), and I tell me-of-the-future about what I want to do and that I'm scared about it, and then I imagine them reading it and imagine how it'll be by then if I haven't done it yet, and how much better it'll be for them if I do.

Sometimes it's really hard to do things for ourselves, but imagining you're doing them for you-of-the-future gives yourself enough distance that you can convince yourself that you're actually doing it for someone else. It might also help to imagine that you of the future will be proud of you for doing it, and this is a pretty instantaneous reward situation, because you get the little kick of someone being proud of you before you do it just for deciding to do it, and then as soon as you've done it you get to be proud of yourself. Effectiveness: 8/10, high risk-high reward, will feel really good if you do it, but you have to do it.

If you're still worried about her saying specific unsupportive things, coming up with a few good responses to the most likely ones that you can use in the moment without even thinking can take some of the power away from her (or anyone else) saying them. If your friend is only attracted to one gender you can use the "how do you know you just haven't met the right [person of gender she isn't into]?" or "it hurts me that you think I don't know myself well enough/that you don't trust me to know this about myself". If someone you come out to isn't supportive you are legally allowed to be petty or guilt trip them, if they know you're not just gonna back down when they try to disagree with you, it shows you're serious, even/especially if you wouldn't normally go on the offensive like that. Effectiveness: ?/10, depends on your personality and how assertive you are, and can be difficult if you're worried about confrontation with your best friend, but it could just be what needs to be done, and is likely but not certain to get your point across.

I'm not saying all of these are good methods, but they are definitely methods that you could use. And hey, if you do it, let us know how you did it and how it went!

Best of luck, I hope you figure it out <3

~mod key

#asks #anon #questionable advice #coming out #asexual #aroace #mod key

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mags-writes · 1 year

Text

Sunlight || Part VI

Summary: frank gets his worldview changed

Series Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical swearing, first time writing x reader, no use of y/n, no beta readers we die like ray nadeem

Pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

Authors Note: a bit longer for the girlies. just a heads up as well, you might not hear from me for a while after I finish this series (apart from a oneshot that was requested idk) because I'm technically supposed to be writing an actual legit novel and I got writers block for that and just started doing this to get my creativity out of my head. so thank you to everyone who didn't send me nasty anons and for sticking it out this far. I'm honestly so surprised at the reaction especially considering that this is the first time writing in second perspective. enjoy!!

PROLOGUE/MASTERLIST || PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII

"So," You face Matt who had been looking like he wanted to say something to you since you started spouting Hebrew. "What's your part in all this?"

"If you helped your Daredevil," He took tentative steps to you. "Then I think you know the answer."

You sighed, stepping away from Frank's embrace and instead going into Matt's.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled into his chest, squeezing him tighter when he laid his head on top of yours. "I didn't know for sure until yesterday morning."

"No, don't be." He said, soothing a hand up and down on your back. "Even if you didn't know I should've told you from the start."

"It happened the same way, you know?" He pulled back and frowned at you. "I showed up at his apartment one morning, he was beaten to hell and back, and he tried to tell me he fell down the stairs."

"I'm going to assume you didn't take it well?" He said with a smile.

"I yelled at him so loudly his neighbour three floors up came over to ask us to shut up." You smiled at his chuckle, letting it stay before it fell slightly. "Everything that followed... I don't regret becoming his girl in the chair, helping him every night but... Matt, I was one of six kids." Matt felt his heart shatter. "And I know you heard everything yesterday, that I don't want to go back and I want you to know that, in a heartbeat, I would-"

"I know where you're going with this." Of course he did. Of course he knew. "No. If being part of Daredevil's life put you through god knows how many kidnappings, beatings, crucifixions, and dead brothers, then no. You're not doing it again for me."

"Okay," You shook your head. "Believe it or not, getting crucified was the least traumatic thing to happen that week. So, we're good on that base."

"Stop it." He was being serious and you couldn't help but smile. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" You challenged.

"You're trying to change my mind."

"No, I know what I'm going to do." You shrugged your shoulders. "Whether you like it or not, tonight, I'm the girl in the chair."

"With what setup?" He challenged.

You pointed to where Dinah, Amy, and Frank were still standing, listening in, and where your stuff still was. "What do ya think the suitcase is for?"

You walked over to your suitcase, wheeling it over to the table in the middle of the room, and laying it on the ground. Amy came to stand next to you as you squatted down to unzip the thing and then carefully pry it open.

"Ho-ly shit." Amy laughed, leaning down to get a better look.

The reason you hadn't been able to afford your own place and move out of Matt's was because of this. Three large monitors were carefully packed into one-half of the suitcase, each with their own stands and cables wrapped under them. The other half had a mouse, two keyboards, and a touchscreen tablet sitting in their own black, protective foam. You took all of this out, running a couple of cables to turn everything on with Amy's help, and left it to turn on.

Next, you moved to the backpack. Now that... the contents of that had everyone gaping if they weren't already before. Two handguns with their own holsters, a bowie knife with a sheath and thigh straps, and then lastly, a separate sack that clunked around when it hit the table.

"Uh, do you know how to use those?" Foggy asked concerned, frowning at the handguns.

"Yeah." You said like it was obvious. "Pull the trigger."

Amy's head snapped to Frank with a gaping smile, trying to stop herself from bursting out laughing at his expression. He was shocked, to say the least, and he was trying to stop himself from slowly moving the weapons out of reach of you.

You stood up, opening the sack, and tipping it upside down to reveal a partly disassembled assault rifle. Your hands moved faster than your mind, easily flipping around the parts before twisting or shoving them into place. Frank thought you looked angelic. A small frown of concentration creased in between your eyebrows and your lips pulled into a delicate pout. Time slowed. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience and was only pulled back in when you slapped the bottom of the mag into place and pulled back the bolt carrier handle.

"I was the only girl out of six kids," You explained, flipping the safety on and putting it down with the rest of the weapons. "My oldest brother liked to wear heels out in public, the next one was chess champion every year he was in school and the one after that was six foot three and seventy pounds wet. If I wasn't out there beating the shit out of their bullies then no one would be. Now my younger brothers," You tilted your head with a smile. "Bless 'em. Their dumbasses got themselves into the military. No offense Frankie."

"None taken, darlin'." He replied, hanging off every word you spoke. You never spoke about your family and figured you had a rough relationship with them. He didn't realise it was this kind of rough.

"They came home and taught me how to handle firearms when I ended up in the hospital after a kidnapping. So, I can defend myself. Let's settle that." You gave every one of them except Frank a pointed look to make sure they understood. "My oldest brother was murdered by Kingpin for writing an exposing story about him for the newspaper, the chess champ was murdered by Bullseye for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and the next one went out in a hit-and-run courtesy of Bloody Mary."

"Jesus Christ." Karen mumbled.

"Brother after me, a week into active duty stepped on a landmine and took out three other people." Frank felt his heart break at the shakey breath you took in after saying that. You were clearly trying to come off as indifferent like you'd worked through it and it didn't affect you anymore but he saw your hands start to shake again. "My baby brother... while I was nailed to a cross, John Pilgrim hunted him down into an alleyway and beat him to death with a sledgehammer. Dad hung himself and Mom didn't leave the psych ward alive." You paused, looking out to nothing for a second before taking in another shaky breath. "The type of radio I use specifically for long-distance communications can be hacked and tracked, that's the price I pay for clear and crisp long-distance. When you leave and I'm left here to be the girl in the chair... If that happens... I am using these weapons. And I am not holding back. Do you understand me?"

You finally looked at Frank. Fear, defiance, and grief swirling in your eyes and he realised that while you directed the question to all of them, you were asking him. You were telling him that you were going to kill people tonight.

Other Matt never let you seek justice for your brothers. He held you while you cried and stood next to you during their funerals, every single one of them, but he always held you back when you got angry. Always the one holding back saying that if you crossed that line then there was no going back. Then someone tracked your signal one night, crawling through the window and holding a gun to your head. You don't even remember killing him, going into a blind rage and just letting loose.

Elektra found you. Cleaned you up, got rid of the body but left the mess. When other Matt came back after enough radio silence and saw what was left behind, Elektra took the blame. She had kept a close eye on you since.

Frank was the first to speak up. "Sounds good to me."

You nodded to him then looked directly at Matt.

"I don't like it." He said reluctantly.

"I'll go to church." You bartered.

"I'm fine with it." He folded immediately, giving a little shrug.

"What do we call you?" Amy asks, making everyone to turn her now instead. "They can't very well go through the streets calling you by your name. Or into earpieces that can be hacked. That's stupid. Frank's got Punisher. Murdock's got Daredevil. What about you?"

There's a pause where you smile at her.

"Call me Cypher." You answered, looking at Frank again and slyly winking. "I'll be your best-kept secret."

You soon found yourself in a chair that was bordering uncomfortable and listening in to Matt, John, Frank, and Dinah all communicating with one another as they made their way through New York in a van. Karen, Foggy, Amy, and Curtis, however, were staying with you. Curtis stayed back for extra protection with a gun and Amy was sitting next to you with her eyes glued to your screens.

The one to the left showed detailed city blueprint layouts that you had gathered when you got the setup, and it was synced with the middle screen that showed the most recent satellite images of the city. They moved and adjusted with the four dots that were the earpieces you gave to the group. The one on the right was for hacking security cameras around the city but for the life of you, you couldn't get it to sync up and stay with the other screens. Which is why you had to constantly keep up with it.

After some digging and hacking, you found out that John's sons were being held captive in a warehouse by a local gang. A stupid location but they chose it nonetheless. John told you that there was someone higher up paying them off to do this and that was why Dinah was involved so you know to be prepared in case they hacked your radio signal.

Curtis was sitting in front of you, behind your screens, watching the touchscreen tablet with rapt attention. Karen and Foggy were pacing nervously, like wild animals caught in a cage and you couldn't help but feel bad for them. You were in the middle of showing Amy how to manually keep the surveillance in sync with the other two screens when a notification from one of your programs popped up. You specifically made it to pick up when your earpieces were being tracked.

"What's that for?" Amy asked, pointing to it and turning to you.

"Uh..." You stutter for a second, making everyone look to you.

Quick as you can, you start getting up surveillance for around the building you were all in and you zero in on a van coming to a stop. Curtis stands up, going over to where he put his gun down and triple-checking that it was loaded.

"Cypher?" Amy grabs your arm, a stab of fear going through you both as you see armed men leaving the van.

"You three," You got Amy on her feet and pointed to Karen and Foggy to get their attention. "In the back room now."

When Amy ran off to grab the door you felt around your body for the weapons that Frank was insistent on helping strap to your body. One handgun at your hip, the bowie knife at the other, the other handgun under your arm, and the assault rifle on the table. When they were all behind the door and the lock clicked over, you gave Curtis a look and picked up the rifle, aiming it at the door.

"What's going on?" Frank's gruff voice sounded through your earpiece.

"We've got a problem here." Curtis said into the walkie-talkie you had to give him due to not having enough earpieces.

"We should be fine." You say confidently, turning the safety off. "I looked ahead and there's hardly anyone there. You're good to go in and get the boys."

"There's probably no one there because they sent them here!" Curtis hissed at you.

"What do you mean? How many are there?" Matt asked, sounding like he had stopped moving.

"Get the boys Matt." You ordered. "I'm going off coms, you don't need to hear this."

That was the last thing they heard from your earpiece before there was a beep signaling to all of them that it had been turned off. Frank cast a look at Dinah, allowing his worry to spill out into his expression just as they came up to the warehouse.

"She'll be fine Castle." She reassures him sternly, taking out her gun and turning off the safety. "She sounds like she's looking forward to it."

The whole time they were going through the warehouse to where they were keeping John's sons, Frank couldn't stop worrying. It affected him so much that Dinah saved his ass all of three times when his back was turned, making her huff and silently count each time on her fingers in his face. When they got the boys out and into Madani's van he tried to call you.

Eighteen times.

And you didn't pick up once.

When they made it back Frank put a hand to Matt's chest to stop him from coming with them.

"You should hang back." Frank said calmly like his own heart wasn't racing.

"I'm not too good with kids, Frank." He replied agitated and shifting from one foot to another.

"You're not too good with death either, Red." Frank retorted gruffly. "Hang back."

There was suddenly loud shouting that everyone immediately knew was coming from you, making Frank and Dinah start sprinting to the entrance. You sounded like a wild animal, yelling and growling echoing through the halls. They came up to the room that you and the rest of them were in, dead bodies lying on one another at the door and bullet holes in the walls. You were growling lowly now like you were putting in a tremendous amount of effort into something.

Dinah went around the corner first, going low onto one knee and her gun aimed at anything that moved while Frank stayed standing above her doing the same. Curtis was sitting on the ground panting with blood splatters on his face staring at you.

You were hunched over, straddling the chest of an armoured man and pressing down on his throat with all your might. You were covered in blood, your face streaked so badly it was a miracle that they could see your hard expression with a cut that went from your forehead, across your temple, and into your hairline. You were frowning angrily, teeth bared and breathing heavily, bloody hands shaking with the strength it took to choke the man. When he stopped moving, you pressed down just a little harder before releasing him and letting out a short yell from strain.

You lean back on your hunches, tilting your head back and revealing a traumatised Amy curled up watching with wide eyes. Your hands sit on your thighs, palms facing up and Frank realises that the reason they're so bloody is that they look like they've gone through the garbage disposal.

"Amy," You say, snapping Frank's attention back to your face, which was now looking at Amy. "Sweetie? Look at me."

"He-he-" Amy stuttered, trying to shake herself out of it.

"Look at me, baby, okay? Look at me." You crawl towards her, your own voice starting to crack and it breaks Frank out of his shock. He starts towards Curtis but he waves Frank off before he gets too close. "You're okay, baby, you're okay. He's not getting up. Yeah?" Frank freezes at the comforting words, shocked at how well you're handling Amy. "He's not going to hurt you, okay?"

"Mhm." Amy nods her head vigorously, silent tears streaming down her face. "Yeah, yeah. Okay."

No one saw one of the men get up from behind your computers.

"Yeah? Okay." You nod at her like you're agreeing with what she's saying as if you didn't say it first. "Can you do something for me, baby?"

"Yeah! Yeah." Amy nods quickly again, ready and willing to do anything you ask.

"I need you to go and check on Karen and Foggy for me. Can you do that?" You ask, and Frank knows it's so that Karen will see how traumatised Amy is and give her the physical comfort you couldn't give her right now. "You need to make sure that they're okay."

"I can-I can do that." Amy goes to get up when you give her the warmest smile under all the blood.

"Thank you. Can you do something else for me?" You ask again, looking up at her now that she's standing. "Can you help me up?"

"Oh god! Yeah." Amy goes down into a squat, grabbing a hold of your biceps and helping you up onto shakey legs. You made sure to keep your palms facing you to not get any more blood on her.

"Thanks." You said, knocking your head with hers lightly before Amy turned and stumbled to where Karen and Foggy were.

You turned to Frank and Dinah, and both of them put their guns away to watch the interaction. You start to stand up straight, loud cracking through your back going off and you groan as you stretch out slightly at all the popping. You heavily sigh, still slightly panting as you look at Frank.

"Was I right?" You ask. "There was hardly anyone there, right?"

"You need to sit down." Dinah said, watching you carefully as you went to go to your computers again.

"I was right though." Then you round the corner and there was the crouching man. "Shit!"

He jumps out at you, going for a hit to the stomach but you bring your leg up to block. Your fighting stance was impeccable, hands up protecting your face and light on your feet. Frank realises that you've been trained, so, he hangs back, watching you work. When he goes to strike again you grab onto his arm and spin, turning your back to him, and then run him into the table. Dinah had taken out her gun, aiming it at the man and yelling for you to get out of the way so she could get a clear shot. When he hits it with a grunt, you bring your arm above his and start smashing your elbow into his face repeatedly, grunting for each hit. The man pulls out a knife and swipes, slashing at your hip making you get off him but not without grabbing at another bowie knife he had strapped on his back. You both circled one another like predators, him with his boisterous and self-assured steps and you slinking like a wild cat ready to strike.

He strikes out first and you dodge, moving out of the way and kicking him in the gut with a loud yell making him hunch over. A few more blows were landed from both of you before you had him backed up on the table again. This time you were so worked up and ready to finish this that the first chance you got you brought the blade down on his flat palm with another yell. It went straight through his hand and into the table, making him scream out from the pain.

In a split second, you saw him pull back his other hand with the knife in it ready to slash at you again. You sounded wild again, a mix of growling and yelling leaving you as you grabbed the back of the man's head, yanked the knife from the table, and brought him in close. You kicked his knees out, using the leg to hold him in place below you as you sunk the knife into his neck. More growling and yelling leaving you in heaves as the man struggled under you, truly like you were a wild animal holding a kill in her jaws as it died.

"One Mississippi." You grit out, closing your eyes and panting loudly, grunting here and there when the man still twitched. "Two Mississippi." You said just a touch calmer and your pants slowed down, slowly, slowly getting calmer and Frank slowly started to walk over to you. "Three Mississippi."

You brought your leg down and yanked the knife from his throat making a spray of blood hit Frank's boots. You stood there for a second, head craned up as you took in a few more breaths still holding the knife in a tight grip. You bring your head down and look at the knife, shakily bringing it away from you before hastily dropping it like it was searing hot. Frank knew it was from the cuts on the palms of your hands, that holding anything in that grip was bound to make the wounds worse. You sat down heavily, sighing deeply again and laying your palms upright on your thighs as they continued to bleed.

"Medic should be here soon." Dinah said and Frank realised he was so enraptured with you that he didn't even hear her on the phone.

"That's good." You say softly, still panting. "Curtis really needs it."

"Get fucked, Cypher." Curtis laughs, shaking his head.

Frank goes to be beside you, squatting down and putting his hand on your forearm to see the damage.

"You been holdin' out on me, sweetheart." He said.

You let out a breathy chuckle. "Well, you know what some men are like." You say, giving him a half-lidded stare that was half flirty and half tired. "Didn't wanna scare ya off. I'm a screamer."

Frank chuckles and watches as your eyes close softly at the sound.

"Hey, hey," He leans down and kisses your wrist before coming back up and cupping your cheek. "None of that, doll. Eyes open for me, yeah?"

"I bet you say that to all the girls." Your eyes flutter open and you give him the best smile you can muster.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle fic #frank castle fanfic #the punisher x reader #the punisher fic #the punisher fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fanfic

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pitchlag · 5 months

Text

Rvb19 thoughts in no particular order

Yeah so. I still think s13 is The capping point for me and all that comes after is hypothetical/simulations or whatever.

First of all. No, you fucking don't get to separate Grif and Simmons.

Having the groups act hostile towards each other (or just the Reds against Caboose again) right after Chorus was a a big enough of a crime already. But those two are a package deal.

So what the fuck even happened in the SoC fight? Why would they let Tucker just walk out in the aftermath? I guess Carolina booked it to go after him bc why else would she leave Wash alone again, after he was supposedly injured?? Also Doc dying, wow rude. Donut and his VA are free to enjoy their break but where' was heeeeeeee where'd he goooooo he was barely mentioned at aaaalllllllll >:(

Sarge's death speech was surprisingly long and clear even though his lungs were probably pierced, cauterized or no.

On one hand I have a hard time seeing Sarge dying peacefully in a bed instead of in battle but he didn't have to stay at that doorway after they got back. He didn't have to die there. I'm glad he went back for Caboose though cuz that is one his boys (even if he's a dirty Blue).

Grif and Simmons talking about him at his grave was pretty good scene and so was the campfire reminiscing one but again, Sarge didn't have to die and I refuse a world where Grif and Simmons would go their separate ways like that. No wonder Gus and Geoff were shocked to find out this was the last season.

I got so excited the second I recognized Tex's knuckle crack ;o;

So close to a proper Tex and Caro combo, though I do get that they wouldn't work well together because of their history and different fighting styles :( Still, even if AI boosted, Tucker shouldn't be anywhere near good enough to go against both.

Also they got Kathleen back for Tex, John Erler for North and Samantha Ireland for CT??? Couldn't have seen that coming. Also Miles was aight doing Elijah Wood's voice but I guess a lot of it was helped by the voice mods.

Beta may have been "a failure" and Sigma is a bitch but his speech at her felt really off. She was still a major part of Alpha and the memories of Allison were the reason the rest of the pieces came to be in the first place. The Meta collective tried to catch her both in cases of the og Tex and Epsi-Tex, so Sigma full on rejecting her and the rest not reacting at all was really weird.

"This time, I'm not based on his memories, I'm based on theirs. And I always kicked their asses." A nice change of pace re: Beta as Alpha's/Allison's "failure". ....

Chex has embedded itself deep into my brain, so of course I Felt Things seeing them interact one last time fr fr. Tex finally got to go out with some agency of her own, yet we've come a full circle, they're back together again as Leonard and Allison. At least one good ending. Easily the best part of the movie.

Security working from home extremely funny, but the bit went on for too long and video calls w/ technical issues bc haha relatable feels like an overdone trope already

Felix being included as a part of the Meta was kinda weird? He never really interacted with the armor or the AI to warrant it I think.

Niner and Sheila :)

No Junior :(

So uh. Tucker got no closure re:Epsilon's death and just kinda. Walks it off after the possession is over? After Wash and Memory!Doc had that talk about the things an AI in your head does to you??

Speaking of Wash:

I know he's always been linked to memory and I actually like how they handled his brain damage in the Shisno Paradox, but I just have a very different image of how he feels about the PFL folks in the aftermath. To me Carolina always seemed more like the type to feel regret over how things went with PFL; she was kind of in a leadership position, had her tragic relationship with York and she felt taking down the Director was her duty.

Wash did arguably have a lot more positive ties to others than she did during the Project, but he was ready to burn it all down while in Recovery duty. I always thought he would have a lot harder time moving past his own trauma of getting left behind to get back to the good memories. Regrets about Doc I can kinda understand since they had time to work together while at Chorus after Wash's villain arc was over, but again, the man carries a grudge like it's a badge of honor. He didn't exactly get closure with his former teammates, aside from collecting the AI from their dead bodies after he'd been left alone following the fall of the MoI and after South shot him in the back. It's interesting how differently Shisno trilogy and S19 handled how Wash and Carolina feel about the whole thing, but I'm glad they stick together regardless. I love their relationship so much.

Wash staying silent when the recovery unit is broken..... Ngl I'm kinda obsessed with how he and Epsilon never got closure

I still don't have interest in checking out Zero....

Woulda been a lot better if they just let Trocadero do the music :( As predicted, the movie OST lacked the personality the series OST was built on and somehow including one track from them felt a bit of an insult. A reminder of what could've been. Also I didn't like the "oohh this part is super loud because movie" bits

Tragically obvious how rushed the production was and how they had a lot less people and resources to work with

If Shisno was a mixed bag of some high highs and a lot of lows, this was relatively steadily ok. Some dips, at least one peak. Not nearly as good as what precedes it but. ok. I can take it as one possibility

Sigh. The funky space marines are finally free. (I'm not, these fuckers seem to continue to fail evacuating my brain)

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb19 spoilers #rvb restoration #rvb restoration spoilers

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blackstarchanx3new · 1 year

Note

Are you aware that for your Four Swords Return au pages 41-44 are missing? I love that section and keep trying to go back to it, but I can't find the pages ... for a question: Do all of Dark Links shirts just have giant holes in them to account for the chest eyeball?

Fixed it. I dunno how that happened, must have been one of those times I didn't edit the master post for an extended period of time like a goof.

If there's any more mistakes in the master post I'll try my best to fix them. I'm not used to this style of comic uploading.

To answer your question

"Do all of Dark Links shirts just have giant holes in them to account for the chest eyeball?"

Yes and no? X'D

So Dark is a demon, a curse that gained sentience so technically all his clothes are just a manifestation of his magic.

Bro would never be naked unwillingly is the vibe, he'd ALWAYS have clothes that suit his bodily needs at his disposal because, they're made of his magic.

Sketch on the right here is what I'd consider his most "Default" outfit lacking Link's influence. Smth he'd summon if he didn't feel like trying too hard and was naked for whatever reason lmfao.

In these sketches you can REALLY tell how much Dark has changed his hair to mimic Vio X'D

Sketch #1 is where things get INTERESTING.

Dark were to wear a shirt from someone else, it'd have to be either a button up he could leave open around his eye, OR

I've considered a gag where he just rips open a hole in a shirt because it makes his chest eye uncomfortable. XD

So yeah. All shirts that aren't created by his magic would have to be modified to make him comfortable.

Design wise: Dark's outfit/beta design was supposed to look like THE MOST GENERIC LINK TUNIC DESIGN (because he's a blank slate of a person rn mimicking Link)

+ Vaati's eye on his chest. (Vaati created him)

Dark's design being subject to change is a huge point with him.

Already designed a new Tunic idea I had but I won't share that quite yet I think. XD

Long walk to say: Dark likes having his eyeball out so yes he'd rip open shirts if they blocked his eye.

#dark link #fsr dark link #four swords returns #four swords returns au #loz fsr au #fsr ask #thanks for the ask!

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underforeversgrace · 1 year

Text

title: the walls you hide behind (I saw the truth inside the real you)

words: 2,142

Story Summary: Jazz is tired of the ghosts, tired of her parents not doing enough, tired of Phantom's recklessness and her brother's persistent exhaustion. When she yells all of her frustration at her parents after nearly getting killed by a ghost, she gets sent to Vlad's mansion in Wisconsin for the weekend - where she's offered a chance. She could have the ability to fight back, protect her brother and her town. Jazz leaps at the prospect. When she returns to Amity Park at the end of the weekend, it's with abilities and strength of her own, and she's fueled by anger and disdain. And she's got her eyes, first, on Danny Phantom.

Chapter 5 of 10: Same Black Holes and Black Mistakes

AO3

Tumblr Chapter One

Tumblr Chapter Six

Beta by: @probably-dead

(Also, check out the AO3 link for some really awesome art by @englandamericaitaly!)

~~~~

“My grades are fine!” Jazz shouted, pushing herself from the breakfast table and standing.

“Jazz, yes, technically they’re still good, but -“ Maddie started and Jazz’s jaw clenched in anger.

“I don’t have a single grade below a 95! Seriously?” She asked, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

“You used to be consistently over a hundred,” her father pointed out. She glared at him and he withered slightly. He’d never been able to handle Jazz when she was angry, and Jazz was furious.

She wanted to scream at them for all of the sudden remembering they had kids, that they needed to give their kids attention. Why did they have to decide to start paying attention now, when Jazz was getting used to balancing her normal life and the life of a vigilante? She already was irritated she’d felt the tug of a ghost recently and hadn’t been able to go chase it!

“High school is harder than middle school, okay?” Jazz lied. In all honesty, she found them both to be child’s play. The lowered grades were more due to her running out of class so often and homework assignments being done, just not done with her previous Type A personality kind of work.

“Jazz, you’re in eleventh grade. You did wonderfully in ninth and tenth grade. I just don’t understand what’s happened this year. Danny’s grades have fallen as well.” Maddie said, worry aging her face.

Jazz glared at her mother. She had to fight to keep the nanobots from reacting to her, even as they burned up her back, vibrating in tune with her rising mood. “I don’t know, Mom. What happened at the start of this school year?”

The parents shared guilty looks and Jazz knew she’d won this conversation.

She sighed, letting some of the anger dissipate, the tech in her skin cooling down as she did. “It’s time for school. I’m going to go get Danny.” Jazz spun on her heel and marched upstairs, taking down her ponytail and redoing it in a braid to give her hands something to do as she went through some slow, meditative breathing. She knocked on the door with her elbow so as to not lose her place with her braid. “Danny!” She yelled. She wanted to have a talk with Danny about how he wasn’t in class yesterday, but it was the Violet Trapper who saw him, not his meddling older sister, and she wasn’t willing yet to confess her secret to her brother.

When Danny didn’t respond, she groaned, tying off the half braid she’d managed. “Danny!” She yelled again, pushing the door open. “It’s time to go!”

Silence met her again and Jazz’s face scrunched in confusion as she realized his bed was empty. At that moment, her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. Sometimes she swore Danny had some kind of psychic powers - like now.

From: Danny

I left early 2day 2 meet up w sam n tuck for some studying. C u @ school

Despite the reassurance, she frowned. When had Danny left? Her and her parents had been in the kitchen for over an hour and she could’ve sworn she’d heard Danny roll over in his bed when she first went downstairs. How had he gotten out without her seeing or hearing him?

She shrugged, she’d see him at school and he - unlike her - actually needed to study. She didn’t wish her parents goodbye as she left the house, getting into her car and heading to school.

She wished she could just fly to school, if she was being honest. It was exhilarating. Even if she ever grew to regret the ghost hunting, she didn’t think she’d ever regret the nanobots that allowed her to soar above Amity. She had almost told Danny a few times, just so he could fly too - she just knew he’d love to, he’d always had his head in the stars. But she couldn’t - not until the ghosts were handled, not until she was sure she could fly without being attacked.

Jazz yawned as she made the short drive. She’d been woken up four times by ghosts last night, and then the conversation with her parents this morning just had her exhausted. Still, she had a meeting with Lancer this morning, one he’d requested.

The fact she was who he reached out to with concerns over Danny instead of their parents spoke volumes about her family. But he sounded worried and Jazz was not fighting ghosts on a nightly basis just so her brother could continue to fall behind. Not with all the scrapes and bruises she had so often, not with the injuries that should’ve had her out of commission for weeks and instead healed in hours, courtesy of the technology in her veins. No, she was not letting her own life fall to the side just so Danny’s could do the same.

So she headed straight to Lancer’s office once she got to school, grinning at the banner above the entrance proudly proclaiming Spirit Week Centennial: 100 Years of Casper Spirit. Again, she debated telling Lancer the truth - he was the vice principal, and her grades had started to fall, plus she knew he wouldn’t risk telling her parents news like this, as studiously as he avoided them. If anyone could get her the accommodations she needed, it would be him. She honestly didn’t have a good reason she wasn’t telling him. She knew the reason she kept it was childish, but still, she held her secret close.

So what if the only reason she didn’t tell Lancer was because it was fun being a superhero with a secret identity? Her other goals were noble enough, she was allowed her fun, too!

His door was already open when she arrived, but she knocked politely anyway.

Jazz wasn’t sure what she was expecting from her teacher this early in the morning, but it certainly was not her probably-in-his-fifties year old teacher hopping around the room with pom poms, chanting the spelling of Casper.

“Jasmine!” Mr. Lancer said with a grin when he saw her, setting his pom poms down on his desk. “Sorry, I was just getting ready for Spirit Week! I do love it so much. The pomp, the circumstance, and especially the spirit sparklers! Did you know I was a cheerleader when I attended Casper?”

“Really? Uh, no, had no clue. Anyway, you wanted to speak with me about Danny?”

“Ah, yes, young Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said, his tone shifting back to one of a bored English teacher. Jazz had to hold her tongue to keep from fuming at him. Danny was continuing to be bullied and the school was doing absolutely nothing about it - it didn’t help that Danny had apparently been right that first night she got back and his bruised nose had healed by morning. “Can you walk with me, Ms. Fenton? There is someone I’d like for you to meet.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Lancer,” she said, following the balding teacher out of the classroom and down the halls.

“Now, Jasmine, I do want to talk to you about your brother. I taught him in eighth grade last year, do you remember?”

Jazz nodded. “Yeah, this is your first year at the high school.”

“Correct. Now, I do remember your brother. He was quiet, didn’t get into trouble, was quite intelligent when he applied himself. He’s changed, noticeably, since then. I will admit, Jasmine, I am worried for him. Sudden behavioral changes like this… well, it’s raised more than a handful of red flags, you understand?”

“What’re you saying, Mr. Lancer?” She asked, frowning.

“Is it possible your brother has gotten involved with… illicit substances? I hate to even ask, but I am at a loss. Normally I’d bring my concern up to the student’s parents…”

“But my parents are as likely to blow up a wall as they are to talk to Danny,” Jazz sighed. As they walked, her ghost radar went off, pointing in the direction they were going.

Lancer smiled apologetically at her. “Ah, unfortunately. I decided perhaps you were best to talk to, at least first. You see, we’ve finally got a school guidance counselor and -“ He opened the door and paused, his calm demeanor morphing into one of shock, the ghost she was sensing rapidly disappearing.

Jazz’s jaw dropped as she took in the scene - her brother, surrounded by destroyed furniture and damaged equipment. He stared at them like a deer in headlights.

Danny facepalmed. “Good one, Fenton. You let him get away, you idiot!”

Jazz rubbed her temples as Lancer began to lay into her brother. “Mr. Lancer,” she finally spoke up when her headache showed no signs of abating. “Look at this. It had to be a ghost attack. We’ve had enough of them by now. That desk is still smoking.”

“Yeah, Mr. Lancer, it was a ghost!” Danny added, looking at her in relief.

“But,” she continued and Danny’s relief wiped away to betrayal the more she talked, “if we’re getting a guidance counselor, I do believe Danny would benefit from seeing them.”

“Jazz!” Danny said indignantly. “I don’t need a shrink!”

Jazz was interrupted before she could snap back.

“Oh dear, what has happened in here?” A red-haired woman said as she walked into the room, immediately dropping the temperature from Cold to Colder. Jazz saw Lancer and Danny shiver and she mimicked them, despite not feeling the cold anymore. She felt a slight buzz in her chest, but it wasn’t focusing in any one direction. Jazz frowned. That was the feeling of her ghost radar, why wasn’t it solidifying?

“Ah, Ms. Spectra, welcome,” Lancer said, holding his hand out to her. “Apologies, there was a bit of an… incident this morning.”

Spectra smiled warmly, seemingly completely unbothered. “No worries, Mr. Lancer, it happens!” She said cheerily. “And who are these two?” She added, gesturing to the teens.

“This is Jasmine and Daniel Fenton,” Lancer said, gesturing to the two of them as Spectra tidied up some of the wall decorations. “Jasmine is an exemplary student, I was actually going to ask her to do the spirit speech at the assembly next week. This is her brother.”

The look on Danny’s face told her he didn’t miss how Lancer sang her praises while barely acknowledging him. He seemed sad - hurt, even - but he quickly smoothed his face back to one of irritation.

“She’s also a fink,” he grumbled, glaring at her. Jazz did her best to ignore it - if only he knew how hard she was trying.

“That is enough, Mr. Fenton!” Lancer admonished. “Get to class now. We’ll let you know when your first session will be.”

Danny scowled at Jazz, stomping away with a huff.

“Anyway, Miss Fenton, what do you say to being the keynote speaker at the spirit-a-thon? Ms. Spectra has already agreed to handle the preparations for the assembly, so you can come to her with any concerns.”

“I don’t know, I’m busy with homework, and my college entry papers…” Jazz said, resisting the urge to rub her chest as it felt like she had irritated bees in her rib cage.

“Don’t worry about it, Jasmine!” Spectra said with far too much cheer. “I’m sure we can find someone else with more school spirit!”

This woman is a licensed therapist? Jazz wondered. While there was nothing technically wrong with what she’d said, it rubbed Jazz the wrong way. Still, Jazz pretended to smile. “Thanks, Ms. Spectra. I’m sure there’s other students who are just as capable as me.”

“Not a problem!” Spectra said, patting Jazz’s shoulder once. A frown crossed over the woman’s face for just a moment, gone so quick Jazz wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Are you sure, Miss Fenton?” Lancer asked. “You really are our best and brightest.”

“I’m sure, Mr. Lancer. This ‘best and brightest’ student is focusing on college right now.” And ghost hunting.

He sighed sadly but didn’t push. “Certainly. Go ahead and get on to class, then, Ms. Spectra and I will get some sessions scheduled for your brother.”

Jazz hesitated before she left, studying the new counselor. Technically, Jazz didn’t have any reason to dislike her, the woman had been perfectly friendly - maybe she was just too friendly and that’s why Jazz felt off about her? She was sure Lancer and the school board had thoroughly vetted Spectra before hiring her, after all. So despite her reservations, she nodded. Danny needed help that her parents couldn’t give and that he would never speak to her about.

He could be mad at her later, she determined as she left the office, Lancer and Spectra’s conversation muffling as they closed the door behind her.

The buzzing didn’t settle down until several hours later, and her discomfort with Spectra was forgotten.

#grace writes #danny phantom #jazz fenton #danny fenton

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