#Fatal fury 1

[hadouwave]

Terry bogard fatal fury 1 fatal fury 2 fatal fury special and kof'94 carddass

[bison2winquote]

Ges Hward, Fatal Fruity Specials (SINK)

[devileaterjaek]

[gamesline]

The Bulletin: Games Workers' Rights and a Weekend of Fights

It was a big week for fighting games, and it was also a big week in the fight for the rights of those who make games! Read the full article

[heycolorwind]

Evo 2023 Rundown | Colorwind News

[rainydayathogwarts]

Valley-girl Charm - Bucky Barnes

Summary: In which reader from the 1940s knows just how to play the damsel in distress to get exactly what she wants in the modern age after coming out of the ice. Or should I say: 3 times Bucky did things for you, and the 1 time you did something for him. SMUT!!!

2.9k wc

Natasha knew body language better than anyone. Tony knew how to play the knight in shining armour better than any hero in the old tales they told.

So of course, they were the first ones to pick up on the little game you were playing. It had started the second you were back from under the ice, charming anyone you spoke to with your 1940's valley girl accent, using words you'd only hear in old television. Men fell at your feet the second words came out of your mouth, offering you anything you'd dream of, and it didn't have anything to do with the super-soldier serum in your system either. You politely declined every time, but eventually understood the kind of power you held.

The second charming method they noticed you had came from your gorgeous smile. The moment you looked up at someone through your long lashes and beamed widely, looking so innocent and kind, people were willing to give you the clothes off their back if you asked. Of course, you never accepted anything from complete strangers. The two Avengers had come to their conclusion that you were still accustoming yourself to the norms of the new world, unaware of your ability to bewitch people with your natural appeal, however it was not long before they were proven wrong.

They didn't know if it was the fact that you were so familiar to Bucky and Steve, a comfort amongst all things new that made them more vulnerable to do anything for you, or if it was just your flirt, but they were immediately intrigued after seeing your interactions with the soldiers. They'd seen the way you spoke to the two soldiers just after coming out of the ice and hadn't noticed anything unusual apart from the fact you'd essentially come out of a time machine. As the weeks, months passed, they knew your intentions.

It had started by witnessing a simple conversation between you and the two soldiers. "Well I'm all nerves about going to speak to Agent Fury about that last mission. He's going to get all bent and blow a fuse." The two soldiers stood either side of you turned to face you in such synchrony it had almost been comical. Bucky was the first to speak, "Don't worry doll, I can go speak to him if you'd like. You shouldn't be the one he chews out." "Anyway," Cuts in Steve "We were the ones who screwed up honey, not you." From across the kitchen, Natasha rolled her shoulders back, nudging Tony with her elbow lightly as she stirred sugar into her coffee. Their eyes widened slightly at the wide smile sprawling itself on your face, peeking back and forth between the two men.

"Really? You boys don't have to do that just for me." Steve straightened his posture impossibly at your comment, but it was Bucky who beat him to the comment. "Honey, I'd do anything for a broad like you." You cocked your head to the side, a hand coming up to rest on his muscled bicep. "Why, thank you Sergeant. You dreamboats are too kind". Natasha's eyes trailed over to Tony when the three of you finally left, the two boys accompanying you seemingly wherever you wanted to go. "See, I didn't understand half of that conversation, but they are wrapped around her finger." Tony hummed "She's smarter than we thought."

The second time they witnessed it, they were convinced that you did it on purpose, their image of you quickly turning from innocent and naive to a femme fatale, manipulating men into thinking they're doing things for you because they want to. You'd all been hitting the bars, only missing Thor from the team. You had been occupying a large round booth, wedged between Bucky and Natasha, giggling with her about the man she found attractive sat at the bar, whilst the four men at the table shared stories. Natasha's eyes were quickly drawn to your hand as you placed it on Bucky's thigh, the man putting his own hand over yours almost instantly as he glanced down at you. You returned his look, grinning widely before turning back to your conversation with the tall red-head.

Natasha carried on with the conversation, pretending not to notice the intimate moment you'd shared with the soldier, but her jaw went slack nonetheless when Bucky leaned closer to you not two minutes later, whispering "You're drinking a margarita, right?" And rising from his seat when you nodded at him, humming in agreement. Bucky joined the group once more with two drinks in hand: one for him and one for you, smiling proudly when you cocked your head to the side, insisting he didn't have to. He only wrapped one muscled arm around your shoulders as a response, pulling you closer to him despite the humidity of the bar.

When you leant your head on Bucky's shoulder, stealing a glimpse up at him though, Natasha was no longer assured that those tricks up your sleeve were to get what you wanted. Perhaps you used them to get who you wanted. She sipped her drink instead of making a comment, afraid to scare you away with any questions when you'd only just begun getting close to her. Maybe in a couple of weeks during a girls' trip to the bathroom she'd bring up your relationship with him.

That girls' trip didn't end up being in a bathroom, but in a changing room, because next time something so significant had happened, the entire team was training together for the first time in a while, and Steve had declared that you were all doing a round robin. If you were still in the military, sure - you'd have moaned about it, throwing your head back in disappointment and hoping your supervisor hadn't seen you complain. But now, with the super-serum in your bloodstream? Well, you supposed you could be in a worst position, like Tony's, who didn't have any super-powers or spy training. With so many of you on the team, it'd take numerous matches for everyone to have their turn against each of their teammates, so after a quick warm-up, everyone had settled down on the mats of the martial arts training area to watch.

Soon later, everyone who was sat on the mats was trying to catch their breath as two team-mates sparred on the mats. Tony stood after Thor and Steve's match, adding another tally next to Thor's name on the big planning whiteboard before turning around with a wide smirk on his face. "Last match of the day." Bucky hopped up from next to you, sticking a hand out for you to take. Hesitantly, you took it, only for him to pull you up to your feet. "Us?" You asked, only for him to nod. "Well, I'm gonna let you have it, Barnes." You teased, tightening your ponytail. "Oh come on, might as well reach for the sky now, y/n."

"Steve, what the hell are they saying?" Called out Clint, leaning over to see the blonde man from across Natasha. "She's gonna hit him hard, and he says she should just give up now." Replied the man, taking another sip from his water. Tony picked up the whistle next to him, blowing into it, before scrambling back to watch with the others. The second the time started, Bucky faltered - how the hell was he supposed to hit you? But there was already a fist flying to his face which he barely dodged, instead swatting your wrist away from him.

You stared at him intensely from behind your fists, shielding your face, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Come on Barnes!" Steve yelled from the sidelines. Bucky's face mirrored yours, his eyes laced with confusion, but he threw a fist anyhow, going for a body shot instead of your face. Nevertheless, you moved to the right, dodging his fist, and grabbing his arm as leverage to help you jump up. You threw your right leg over his shoulder, and behind his neck, swinging your other leg over his second shoulder, and crossing it over your right leg to trap his arm between your legs and over your torso. You tensed your quads as much as you could, hoping the triangle choke would work on him, but instead he used his metal arm to push your thigh over his head as much as he could. It was working, slowly but surely.

"Fuck" you muttered when he slipped his head in the gap between his shoulder and your thigh. You were now essentially hanging onto his arm, both legs over one shoulder. Before he could react, you flexed your core muscles, and sat up onto his shoulder. You released his arm, jumping off his shoulder so you landed behind him, and softly push-kicked him the back so he stumbled forward. As he did though, one hand reached behind him and grabbed your ankle, so you were dragged along with him. You slipped onto your back as he fell forward but Bucky was quicker, getting up instantly to straddle your hips. He leaned forward, above you, trying to get his arms around your neck to get you in a chokehold, but the second you giggled, he shot back up again.

"Sorry, that tickled." You insisted, hand coming to your neck to play the part better, a broad smile gracing your lips. Just as Bucky opened his mouth to say something, you reached out to grab both his hands, bucking your hips up and turning to the side to flip him over. You were on top of him in the blink of an eye, mimicking his movements as your arms snaked around his neck. You successfully put him in the same chokehold he had tried to put you in, but when you twisted your wrists, the blood supply to his face immediately cut off and you felt his hand tapping you twice on the shoulder. "You cheat." Was the first thing he said after his gasp for air, but you only shrugged, rolling off his chest. "I was only using sources available to me."

You giggled as you ran off to catch up to Natasha, already waiting for you by the doors to the changing room. "So..." She started, quite obviously. "So... What?" You echoed, looking up at her curiously, shimmying out of your shorts. You turn around so your back faces her as you struggle out of your sports bra, wrapping your towel around your sweaty body before spinning back around. "You and Bucky. This flirting has been going on for weeks. Do you like him, are you dating?" You laughed, cocking your head to the side. "You don't know?" She shook her head quickly, sitting down on a bench. On the other hand, you just opened one of the doors to the clean showers, calling out to her.

"Well, before the ice, me and Buck knew each other from the military, we got along well. The only problem was, he was my superior. I couldn't possibly make a pass at him and be known as the soldier who had the nerve to try and lay paws on her superior. But there was always something there..." At the lack of response, you stuck your head back out of the shower, to make sure Natasha was still there. "Natasha?" The spy looked at you with her mouth wide open in shock. "What!? And you never told me?" You shrugged, turning the water on. "Well I thought y'all knew."

Her silence told you enough about how much she really knew. As she muttered to herself on the other side of the door, you submerged yourself in the water, massaging shampoo into your hair, hearing flashes of "before the ice" and "he was your superior?" so you assumed she was still talking to you, even though you ignored most of what she said. You barely heard her goodbye and the sound of the changing room door opening and closing one more time, before the sound of water running was all you could hear.

"Y/n? Natasha let me in, she said you were done." You perked up at the sound of Bucky's voice, exclaiming "Here!" He approached the sound of your voice, stopping when he realised Natasha had deceived him. He stood in front of the dark wooden door, watching the steam dance in the space above your door. "Is it anything urgent?" The towel hanging from the door disappeared into the other side, and Bucky realised shaking his head wasn't enough of an answer because the door swung open to reveal you, soaking wet and completely naked with the exception of the small towel that barely covered your private parts. "Oh! Hey you!" You exclaimed, taken aback at his proximity, yet smiling all the while.

Bucky stood frozen in place, mouth ajar as he search for his words. "I'm sorry, I- I, you look beautiful." You giggled at his words, approaching his shirtless, freshly showered figure. His long hair was wet and skin was glistening, and he only wore a pair of jogger shorts to conceal himself. You have to admit, they weren't doing a great job and covering the growing tent in them. Your eyes trailed back up his body to meet his, smiling at him again. "Anything I can help you with, Sergeant?" Bucky's hands hesitantly rose to meet your hips. "I-No it's fine." Your hand met his and you dragged him with you three steps backwards, back into the shower you had just exited. You reached your arm behind him, locking the door once more.

"You're sure?" Bucky shook his head, pulling your hips flush against his as he slammed his lips against yours in a needy kiss. You gasped as your towel started to unravel, but you didn't try to stop it, wrapping your arms around Bucky's shoulders instead. When he separated from you, opening his eyes, they immediately widened, and his bit his lip, poorly trying to suppress a moan. You pushed Bucky back gently, urging him to sit on the small wooden bench. He sat down, legs spreading to make space for you between them, but when you started lowering yourself onto your knees, he shook his head frantically, begging "No, no, none of that, doll. I just want you sweetheart."

The cold metal of his arm flush against your skin chilled you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you up to sit on his laps. He grunted, frantically pulling down his cotton shorts. You aided him at doing so, gasping when his cock sprung out, the absence of any underwear surprising you. You immediately took his dick in your hands, watching as Bucky's face scrunched up in pleasure. You guided him inside you, sitting down flat on his dick, but you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you as you did. You whined, beginning to drag yourself up and down his dick, gradually speeding up your movements. Bucky's hips met your frantically, until his pace was so quick you couldn't keep up. "Buck!" At your plead, he wrapped an arm around you, using his metal one to support both your weights on the wall, and he stood up, walking forward until your back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

You gasped at its feeling against your skin, jerking forward once more when Bucky's metal hand came up to play with your nipples as his speed increased once more. Bucky leaned his forehead against yours, cussing loudly before biting his bottom lip in fear of being heard. His hand left your breasts, instead blinding searching for the shower handle. When he found it, he immediately pushed it upwards, the instant noise of water shooting out moderately covering the sounds of pleasure you made. Your wrapped your arms around his tighter, grinding your pussy onto his pelvis as he thrusted into you, your clit rubbing on the short hairs near the base of his dick.

You busied yourself pressing kisses on Bucky's neck, the water squelching between your bodies as you passionately moved against each other. "Fuck y/n" Bucky moaned, chasing your lips, panting against them once he met them in a deep kiss. Your hands cupped his face as you kissed, deepening it impossibly, and his metal hand went straight to your clit, rubbing circles on it as fast as he could. Your leg twitched and you didn't have time to warn him before you were cumming all over him. "Shit!" Bucky grunted, pulling out of you as he balanced you on the wall, his hand coming to jerk himself off quicker. You put your hand over his, legs still wrapped around his torso, teasing his sensitive tip as you stroked him up and down. With a deep shudder, white stripes of cum shot out of him, painting your belly white, only to be washed away with the shower's stream.

Bucky put you down gently, making sure you wouldn't slip before cupping your face with his large hands and bringing you in for a much slower, more passionate kiss. You pulled away from him, keeping him close as you peppered kisses all over his face. He laughed, trying to pull away from you and saying,

"We should have done this about 80 years ago doll, don't you think?

[tizzyizzy]

4 Ways Izzy Could Have Died That Would Have Been Less Shit

1

Izzy is fighting alongside the crew, but they're outnumbered and losing. Izzy stands his ground, but then he's hit and mortally wounded. With renewed determination, they rally to his side and push back in a righteous fury. Someone cheers "Izzy's Revenge!" as they battle. After, Izzy dies surrounded by the crew, with Fang holding him and Frenchie squeezing his hand.

2

Ed and Izzy team-up, and we see them fight side by side like in the good old days. They're in perfect sync, predicting each other's movements and saving one another's lives, finally completely reconciled. Izzy is struck down, maybe protecting Ed. Ed avenges Izzy, and Izzy dies happy in Ed's arms.

3

Izzy is fatally injured during the escape. Ed desperately tries to rescue him, but Izzy is dying and the Navy are closing in. Ed is frantic and crying, refusing to leave Izzy. He tries to take the wooden leg off, so Izzy will be easier to carry. Izzy tells him to leave it. Ed tells Izzy he loves him, that he's sorry, that he can be better, that he'll save Izzy and never take him for granted again. Izzy kisses his forehead and tells Ed that, out of all his regrets, staying by Ed's side-the man he loved-was never one of them. Ed leaves Izzy a gun, and Izzy goes down fighting while a devastated Ed escapes.

4

Izzy provides a distraction to save a cornered Ed and Stede, proving his declaration he wouldn't die for them in s1 false. They try to convince him not to, but Izzy smiles and says there is no greater honor as a pirate than dying for his captains. Ed tells Izzy he loves him. Izzy says, "I know, you idiot." He tells Stede to take care of Ed and the crew or he'll haunt him and curse all his nice clothing forever.

[blacktabbygames]

shooting my shot with these questions - how far along was the development of demo fury and how much work was scrapped or reworked into adversary/tower for the release game? :0c i think it's genius vot broken got swapped over to tower's route and we got stubborn instead, but i'm also burning with curiosity wondering how broken was originally going to function with demo fury

Pretty much 0 "hard" work had been done on demo Fury before she got scrapped. We had loose concepts for how we wanted the overall progression of the game to go, but those concepts had yet to face the crucible of writing vs the pleasant air conditioned room of the imagination. As soon as we released the first demo for Slay the Princess, we spent 100% of our energy on finishing Episode 4 of Scarlet Hollow. It wasn't until January of 2023 that we started work on the rest of Slay the Princess. A lot of the earliest stages work was spent on looooong runs on the elliptical, listening to music + thinking things through. That ideation phase felt *really* stilted with the number of Princesses we had in the initial demo, especially for Princesses that had a lot of ways to unlock them, since the more ways you got to a Princess, the less it felt like her character had a real emotional core to latch onto. So, using the example of the Fury... what is she? She's someone way more powerful than you who mercilessly beats you to death. But she's ALSO someone who you fought to a fatal standstill that ended with mutual respect. And somehow at the same time she's also ALSO someone who hid a secret knife... somewhere... and killed you with it. Like, who is that? It's nobody. Not really. And while we *could* have tackled this with entirely too much variable dialogue, at that point each of those Princesses felt like entirely different people, so what if we just... made them different Princesses? That's what we did with demo 1 Fury, who became The Adversary, the Tower, AND the Razor. Likewise, Damsel -> Damsel + Prisoner and Beast -> Witch + Beast Since the original concept for "The Fury" was split into "The Adversary and "The Tower," we thought it would be fun to bring her back as the "fusion" Chapter 3 Princess that can be accessed for either of their routes. And since we got into PAX Rising shortly after making this decision, it felt like a good idea to do a full re-release of the demo. And outside of that... there's very little in the way of leftover first drafts or unused concepts, other than little figments that live in our heads. Slay the Princess had a *ridiculously fast* turnaround time (about 7 months of full time work from myself and Abby for the initial release, + ~3 months of extra full time work for the Pristine Cut.) This faster turnaround was intentional, both to minimize any drag on Scarlet Hollow's development, but also because the game itself is dreamlike by design, and free-running with ideas until they hit their logical ends felt like it worked extremely well with the story we were hoping to tell.

[foone]

For the Fatal Fury Special Death Generator, there is the omission of the "%" percent sign. How else am I supposed to make a parody of this quote?

That said, keep up the good work. I've noticed you added other great fighting games to the Death Geenrator.

I’m trying! someone on reddit suggested SvC Chaos (which I worked on way back in 2018 but never finished), plus Street Fighter Alpha 1 and JoJo's Bizarre Adventure All-Star Battle R, so I’ll be looking at those soon.

As for Fatal Fury: I’m sadly limited by what characters are in the game’s font! and often games do not have full fonts, because with graphical ROM space being limited, they don’t want to waste any space on characters that don’t get used. 

I’ll double check Fatal Fury Special to make sure I didn’t just miss the % sign though. 

[storiesoflilies]

Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairing - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - General descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N: Aaaaand here we go!! I’m posting this earlier than I was supposed to in honor of Toji’s birthday. Fun fact - Toji and I share the same birthday :) Ko-Fi.

Next part — Chapter 2

-•-

Chapter 1

The sky was falling ever so softly.

She’d spent so long staring upwards at it, utterly astounded, because it never occurred that way when she imagined it in her head. There was supposed to be an all-consuming deafening rumbling, chunks of blue tumbling down from above, and fiery meteors the size of moons hurling themselves into the chaos of a dying Earth.

But no, it was more like a hundred million and one glowing embers fluttering down like beautiful dying butterflies.

Is this what it’s like when Angels fall?

Y/N thought it was a more peaceful way to go; instead of a violent plummet into the dirt to trade their lives for another one as a Curse. It was a nice thought, naive even, because seraphim were not kind nor merciful to those who they deemed had turned against them. Stupid, wishful thinking, a selfish desire for the world to be anything but exactly what it is; sin was as inevitable as the sun, rising and falling with time in a terrible terrible cycle. She’d seen the streets run crimson like glimmering rubies as Angel’s wings were torn from their bones and flesh, heard their screams from afar as they begged and pleaded not to be cast out. It was always the same; Heaven is, and always would remain, divinely perfect, and it would forever be ruthless in its pursuit of maintaining it. Free will is a beautiful thing, certainly, so long as one made only the right choices.

She shook her head, cool ash flaking off her hair, and picked up her katana from where it lay beside a Curse’s corpse. Satoru Gojo had trusted her with hunting down this particularly erratic Second Layer Curse that had been capturing and torturing wounded Angels. Indeed, she could see the remnants of its latest mangled victim underneath its grotesque blubbery body; a once living soul now just an unrecognizable face beaten into a bloody feathery mess. Maybe they had once sinned, perhaps not, but what did it matter? They were just another tally to be scratched on a plaque, a life reduced to a single scratch on a stone already marred by millions of markings.

Y/N briefly considered attempting to retrieve the body for a proper burial, but it was already far too late in the day. The last rays of the sun threw a brilliant shade of red across the sky, a low hum of anticipation in the air that whispered of all the fury and violence of thunder and lightening; night would soon fall to unleash the lethal Curses that dwelled in the deepest layers of Hell. If she didn’t hurry and ascend to Heaven, then she would bear witness to the unholiest of rituals, as the Earth would crack open beneath her and the molten fire of Sukuna’s wrath would burst forth and consume her body and soul.

She kneeled in front of the Curse; its forked tongue rolling out of a toothless mouth, lidless eyes tipped backwards into its head, and blackened blood dripping from the fatal wound right through its brain. Y/N’s thumb squelched uncomfortably as she pressed it firmly into the rubbery skin of its forehead, and murmured a quick prayer for the deceased seraph, and a blaze of golden light engulfed both corpses. Gojo had taught her how to use her divine energy to smite dead Curses, just to make sure they won’t try again in his own words, and this power could also be extended to cremate their own.

The ground groaned and rumbled, as if protesting against its part to play in the cycle of violence, serving as a sinister warning for her to hurry. A wave of panic washed over her, and Y/N closed her eyes; grasping to control her lackluster wisps of divine energy, and cried out into the seemingly empty plane of the Unlimited Void.

But empty it was not, for Satoru Gojo sees and hears all within his domain.

Within an instant, she felt herself floating into and across the Void as Gojo’s essence consumed and caressed her soul; still as exhilarating and frightening as the first time she had tepidly stepped through this plane of existence. And Y/N could feel all of him, but could do nothing but helplessly travel through the cosmos of his own making. Gojo was like a turbulent ocean, ever-changing and impatient, but perplexingly beautiful; a ticking clock waiting to chime a tune of misery to signal his arrival against his enemies. Not many Angels were privy to ascending into Heaven this way, because Gojo simply didn’t want to do it for just anybody. He was like a fussy child picking only the best things to play with; his trust the ultimate game to win, and many had tried. Y/N didn’t think it was so complex, because she understood fear in a way Gojo could never, and ordinary Angels couldn’t face the fact that their souls would be bared so openly and judged by the Six Eyes himself.

Y/N blinked, and found herself in front of him.

“Cutting it a little close, eh?”

Satoru Gojo stood with his corded forearms crossed over each other, tall and broad form leaning back against an iridescent golden pole of the Gates of Heaven; a marble statue carved directly from God’s hands that demanded complete attention, a perfect vision of beauty that Y/N could never tire of looking at it. He wore a bemused smirk on his face, clearly relishing in her reliance of his power to save her from certain doom, but Y/N liked to think he didn’t completely look down on her. Perhaps she could give him the benefit of the doubt; he had been waiting for her outside the city, and maybe expected her to ascend to Heaven normally, which required an Angel to fly upwards from the Earth and pass through each of the seven layers of Heaven. Each of these layers were well defended by legions of seraphim ready to lay their lives against imminent attacks, bolstered by colossal golden gates similar to the one guarding the main city.

“But you’ve done it, right?” He continued, his eyes completely focused on her as she approached.

Gojo often asked questions he already knew the answers to, something he did with her and his other favorites; a way of settling nerves and putting them at ease around him, as if he hadn’t rooted through every crack and crevice of their minds, pretending he didn’t know them more intimately than they probably did themselves.

“It’s done.”

He hummed appreciatively, the hundreds of eyes decorating his wings blinking intermittently to give an illusion of twinkling cerulean lights, and extended his hand for her to take. Y/N accepted, refusal simply not an option, her fingers intertwining with his as he dropped the infinite barrier coating his body, and let him lead her through the Golden Gates and into the city; their kingdom far above the Earth – where no Curse had ever managed to breach. 

Heaven was a seemingly never-ending city; a labyrinth of buildings and twisting pathways built from white marble, with pearlescent towers of varying heights dotted throughout. – a perfect pristine canvas of glittering white diamonds. Many Angels would live together in each of these towers, forming extended families to be born and raised together for generations. Cool air washed through every twist and turn of the city, flowing between trees with silver leaves bearing the sweetest figs; which grew intermittently between any sliver of space between the rock, and some were even as tall as the towers themselves.

“Gojo, couldn’t you see the sky below?”

“Hmm?”

“The sky was burning before I left, it was falling.”

“Ah yes, well… that’s no surprise. Geto has become a Curse, and he is past my sight now. It makes sense the first thing he did was kill the Sky Sentries, so I suppose it’s a good thing you called for me through the Void.”

She froze, and he stopped with her.

Geto is, was, Gojo’s second in command; his most trusted confidant and closest ally. If he had fallen, then there would be many other Angels who would have willingly fallen with him. The Sky Sentries guarded the sky of the Earth, the first layer of Heaven; they stood at the frontline of the war, warriors that couldn’t afford to rest, for come nightfall it was a bloodbath of Curses attempting to breach the first barrier.

So many of us are dead. More lines on the wall.

“Gojo, I-,” Y/N paused, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry.”

At this, he released her hand and turned to face her. “Why? He made his choice.”

Gojo turned away again, staring down at the ground beneath his feet like he was seeing right through it to the Earth and scorched skies, and scoffed loudly. It was a seething sound of a betrayal that had cut him deeply, and it was a promise of violence and vengeance. Nobody escaped punishment, especially not from the Six Eyes, and Geto was certainly not above consequences.

“You know, we were all given free will. It shouldn’t surprise you, when an Angel - any Angel - falls into darkness and becomes a Curse,” he stated with finality, a sharp edge of a steel knife in his voice.

“But, Geto was our family,” Y/N breathed out shakily, her sadness starting to bubble out uncontrollably. “I didn’t know he was changing, I never noticed anything was wrong.”

“Neither did I,” Gojo whispered defeatedly, a complete change in his tone, letting slip just a sliver of his hurt for someone else to see.

Geto and Gojo were born three centuries before Y/N, and became nigh inseparable; a perfect example of how strong the bond of comradery should be between Angels. She had first met Geto when he had started training her to fight, he’d still hadn’t risen to power back then, and they quickly became close. Of course, naturally Gojo took an interest in her as Geto’s pupil, and over the next two hundred years, Y/N had witnessed them rise through the ranks of the Angels; until they reached the pinnacle of power, their combined strength looming over them all like the omnipresent presence of God in Heaven – and yet, they still kept her within their circle. But Geto was different to Gojo, because he understood that strength wasn’t a gift distributed to everyone, and Y/N had seen him fight a fraction harder just to stand on par beside Gojo on the podium of divinity. He had become her brother; a pillar of strength in her life in a way that the Six Eyes could never be, someone who she could truly say would fight to the death for her if he thought her time had come too early.

Gojo was silent for a moment before continuing, “But the sky will heal, Shoku and her followers can do it. There’s always more of us ready to take each other’s place, you don’t need to worry about it anymore.”

He tenderly stroked her cheek smeared with dried Curse blood, watching as a stray tear escaped and ran down her face like a petulant child, and let out a great sigh as if it was the greatest inconvenience for him to witness her sadness. Y/N felt sheepish; how could she be so upset over a betrayer, a snake that had bitten the hand of someone who had thought it graceful and beautiful. Gojo’s great wings unfurled around them, his feathers tickling her exposed neck softly like a lover would, and his arms pulled her into an embrace.

“Im alright Satoru,” she sniffled after some time. “I just need to be alone, to clean myself and pray for him.”

“His soul is gone, you know that Y/N,” Gojo said softly, like she was a precious crystal he held in his palms, threatening to shatter at any moment.

“I don’t care, I need to put him to rest in some way, for my own peace.”

“Let me come with you then, when I return in the morning. You’re too exhausted to go and pray now.”

“Gojo, please. I need this.”

At this he let her go, his wings snapping back in place like they had been stung, and placed his hand on her head in a blessing. A soothing cool sensation spread all the way down from his palms, healing her weary bones and muscles; bathing her in the rarely tranquil ocean of his divine power, and she shuddered in both fear and relief. Some of his followers had gathered around them, eagerly awaiting their commander to follow into the ensuing battle at the First Gate; curiously glancing at the sight of the two of them, like they were forbidden art that nobody could look at for too long. She knew that he had to go; Gojo always went to battle when the last light left the Earth, even if he had already been fighting during the day. But such was the duty of the Six Eyes — always in the heat of battle, never tiring and never resting.

“Go and sleep,” he said, an order; daring her to refuse again. “I’ll see you in the morning. We can pray together then.”

“Be safe,” she whispered.

He nodded, and then vanished instantaneously, leaving Y/N alone surrounded by the watchful eyes of the other seraphim.

-•-

From light we are born, and to ashes we return. 

The beginning of a prayer uttered for those who had passed.

Who once was mighty and now fallen.

Y/N had recited these words many times over, but never once had she done so for a Curse.

Heavenly Father, may you guide our souls to peace in Paradise. 

She bathed in starlight and galaxies, and sank backwards into the bathing pool; sending her further into space, to a time and place where her brother hadn’t left her. Caked Curse blood swirled away in the holy water as she sank deeper, her eyes never closing as she stared up at the stars in the night sky.

Where we may all meet again. 

Y/N whimpered pitifully as she thought again of Geto in the depths of Hell, wondering if he was suffering as his once holy power was warped into something wicked and corrupt. Would he even look the same, would she recognize him if he materialized in front of her at this very moment; a snarling animalistic Curse like the one she had killed today. Or would he remain as he was like a blip in time, a frozen facade of happiness, but with only malice and sin left underneath it all?

To remain in your eternal light forever.

She emerged, water running down her face as her heart constricted painfully, and clasped her hands together and whispered, “Forgive him, oh please forgive him.”

What was else she supposed to do? Oh how she wished she could go back; maybe then she might have noticed if his eyes had tears of darkness in them, if he had laid there alone as the night full of terrors ushered and coaxed his soul to their side. Then she could have told herself what she was meant to do, instead of grieving for Geto like he was already dead like a ghost she would forever clutch on to; stuck reliving a trail of memories she once thought she knew most of, and now none at all. But if she looked into Gojo’s blue eyes, would she find a glimpse of the brother who lifted her on to his shoulders and raised her with dignity and kindness?

Enough, enough . 

Y/N climbed up the steps of the pool as droplets of stars cascaded down her hair, down between her thighs, and down to her feet. She wondered what sort of horrors were unfolding hundreds of thousands of leagues beneath her; if Gojo was striking down Curses with all the fury and might of a scorned lightning storm. She murmured silent prayers for the creatures who stood in his way, and for the seraphim whose lives would be lost as a consequence of Geto’s betrayal. Her feet tapped against the cool marble pathway leading from the pool to the back entrance of Gojo’s tower, and Y/N shook her wings free of any remaining water droplets that flung to her feathers. Her body was bare for all to see as she passed through the empty hallways, but she wasn’t concerned; all those who followed the Six Eyes had followed him into the night, into war. Gojo hadn’t deemed Y/N strong enough to fight during the night, and he never would; for his own selfish reasons, he was keeping her safe.

Her thoughts strayed to when he had openly embraced her in public, and knew that it would have added some truth to the rumor that they were more than just comrades. It was common for Angels that hadn’t found their soulmates to marry each other, as it unfortunately wasn’t always a guaranteed event during one’s lifetime; and of course new seraphim must be born to fight in the war. Since neither of them had found theirs as of yet, so many believed that they would eventually marry. Gojo had made numerous advances to court her over the past few decades, namely allowing her to stay within his tower, as well as hints during various conversations that he expected her to marry him when he finally did ask. Y/N knew that he was aware of her hope for her own soulmate, and that was the only reason he had graced her with his patience, but hope was dangerous in war – it was only a matter of time before he saved her from her own misery.

It would be the most practical thing to do, and Y/N truly did care for him, but was that really enough?

Satoru Gojo was an enigma. On the one hand, he was adored for his effortless displays of power as he could single-handedly decimate armies. On the other, what made him loved was also what made him feared; all he had to do was drag a seraph charged of sin into his Unlimited Void, and they would be helpless as he brutally tore through their minds in search of the truth. If found guilty, he would rip their wings from their backs himself, and then hurtle them towards Hell. Satoru Gojo was as revered as he was terrifying; like he had attained a status close to godliness. Why he had chosen her to be his, Y/N would never know; she could only accept him when he finally came calling for her.

Y/N shook her head, trying to banish all thoughts from her head, and slipped into her bed as her wet hair soaked through the pillow.

What if Geto shows himself tonight?

Perhaps she was right to mourn him, Gojo would strike him down for what he had done. Would Geto give reasons as to why he had sinned if he could speak properly? Y/N hoped so; whatever his answer, it could steel her resolve for the hard fight ahead. But for now, she attempted to empty her head of dark thoughts in an effort to sleep. She would have to be well rested to deal with the fallout of Geto’s betrayal; many new Curses would have been born from all the anguish he had caused.

Can I really hunt those who were my allies just this morning? 

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, hands clamped over her ears, and prayed the negativity and heartache away from her dreams.

-•-

A purple aura permeated Y/N’s room when she awakened, spilling in feverishly from outside the window, and an eerie silence from the previous night lingered and settled like dust. The battle for the sky must still be ongoing if no one was home yet, which meant it was as brutal as she dreaded it to be; for Gojo must have used his Hollow Purple for forcing the sky to change color. She felt fresh fear being thrown over her like a bucket of ice, as the possibility of more of her family dying hit her instantaneously. Y/N quickly donned a fresh set of armor; it was morning now, Gojo couldnt forbid her from descending to Earth since the moon and stars had vanished from sight – she was permitted to go and fight.

Wait.

Y/N froze.

It was Gojo’s voice in her head, his authority reverberating within her mind like a great ringing bell. A strange feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach; he never communicated telepathically with her. Was he trying to keep her from harm? Why wasn’t he allowing her to descend?

I’m coming to you.

Butterflies furiously erupted in her chest, and Y/N hurried outside the tower; the purple glow of the sky growing stronger the closer she got to the entrance of the tower, like a warning nobody could possibly ignore.

The streets outside were in chaos.

Wounded seraphim were being carried by other Angels from a large swirling blue portal at the farthest end of the street from her, and were immediately being tended to by Shoko’s followers. There was an acrid smell in the air; of anguish and death, the scent of suffering from Hell itself. Y/N spied Nanami Kento holding his blunted sword close to his chest, eyes closed as if he was deep in pain but keeping it hidden, as Shoko wrapped his bloodied arms with fresh bandages.

Before Y/N could push her way towards them, the crowd imploded with feverish excitement and shouting as the portal zapped shut, and she jumped back in fright. An unmistakable white head of hair was moving through the crowd, and the seraphim were singing with glee as they parted for their champion; a god splitting the sea, and holding back the oncoming tsunami of adoration. And then, Gojo finally came into view from where she stood, an indecipherable look upon his face as his eyes roamed over every seraphim in the crowd. His gaze inevitably locked onto her, and Y/N noted a crazed spark in his eyes that made her feel uneasy. But she was frozen in place, like prey helplessly watching a predator rushing towards it, as Gojo strode towards her; broad build dripping with Curse blood as he climbed the stairs, stopping just a step below her.

And then he kneeled in front of her, and the universe went quiet.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “Gojo, what are-”

He reached behind his back, procuring two katanas in his palms to her like they were an offering, but she knew exactly where they had come from. The blades were made of pure holy silver, diamonds and pearls encrusted on the hilt — unmistakably Geto’s weapons.

“Geto lost the right to these holy weapons when he betrayed us,” Gojo said as he turned the blades over in his hands, examining them with that same indecipherable look.

“He’s dead then?” Y/N breathed out shakily.

Gojo shook his head, “No, he escaped, but all his followers have been punished.”

She sucked in a breath.

So many more dead.

“These are yours now,” he continued. “If you’ll have them.”

The Six Eyes had never once kneeled for anyone. Y/N knew what was coming, what he was about to ask of her; but how and why had he decided so suddenly that now was the time? He stared up at her with those all knowing eyes, like he was privy to her thoughts whirling in her head, and maybe he was.

Let him go.

How could she? Her heart ached for a part of her soul she had never even met — and might never. Even if she did meet her soulmate, marrying Gojo would forever bind her to him, lest she would be cast out of Heaven for the sin of forsaking her marriage vows. Would he ever be able to make her move on and forget? Did he really know just how much he was asking her for? Her heart hammered in her chest; she wasn’t ready for this, not now, and maybe not ever.

He is Satoru Gojo. If he isn’t enough for you, then who else is?

“I promise to protect you from anything that would hurt you,” Gojo vowed, his voice low for words only meant for her. “I will uphold your virtue and strength, and I promise to stand by your side no matter what happens. I promise to end the Curse of Sukuna, and create a paradise for us and our children, even if it kills me.”

Never once had Satoru Gojo ever mentioned the possibility of his death; it was unnerving, unspeakable, unnatural. His usual saccharine tone was nowhere to be found, and it was deathly quiet all around them – every soul hanging on every word they spoke with bated breath.

“I promise to love you, but please… all I ask is for you to love me and accept me for all that I am, for who I’m going to become,” Gojo whispered, and for the first time in their centuries of friendship, Y/N could see desperation deep within his irises.

She breathed out, steeling herself from the heartache and loss settling deep inside her; her defeat was imminent, but she would rise again to take her seat on the throne beside him as his equal. The world jittered in anticipation as Y/N took both of Geto’s katanas in each of her hands, her knuckles turning white as she gripped their hilts. Gojo stared at her, pupils blown wide; from adoration for her or the heat of battle, she didn’t know.

“I accept you, Satoru Gojo.”

Nothing would ever be the same again.

-•-

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Bare it all | Part 2

PAIRING | Boyfriend!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Avenger!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 6.2K

SUMMARY | Your relationship with Tony has been a fairytale, but when you unexpectedly become pregnant with his baby, your entire world is turned upside down. You're not sure how he will react to the news, but you will always have your best friend Natasha by your side, no matter what.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Age gap, use of nicknames, established relationship, secret relationship, referenced near-fatal accident, accidental pregnancy, morning sickness, pregnancy test, referenced infertility, referenced anxiety, Natasha's past in the red room is referenced.

SMUT | Dirty talk, praise, daddy kink, innocence kink, size kink, slight breeding kink, teasing, back-scratching, nipple play, oral (F&M receiving), fingering, handjob, deepthroating, facial/cumming on the face, cockwarming, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cream pie, aftercare.

A/N | This one-shot is written based on this request. While writing this story, I kept getting more and more thoughts and ideas to add, so I decided to turn this story into a four-part mini-series! I cannot thank @ccbsrmsf1 enough for the endless support, supply of ideas, and proofreading you've done for me. You're an angel, and I love you 🩷

EVENTS Masterlist | @fandombingo | Road Trip with an Unexpected Companion Masterlist | @fandom-free-bingo Wild | Hair Pulling Masterlist | @mcukinkbingo | Free space

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | Photo: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

The moment you were recruited to join the Avengers after working through SHIELD's most challenging programs, you were paired up with Iron Man to show you the ropes. Your super soldier strength combined with Tony's intelligence was perfect because you two have become inseparable on the battlefield, already knowing what the other person is thinking before they even have to say it.

However, during all your work together, something happened that neither of you expected. You started developing crushes on each other, though you were both too stubborn to admit it out loud, let alone to the other person. When Tony finally gathered his courage to tell you about his feelings, you suffered a near-fatal accident, which served only to bring you closer together.

That moment was a year and a half ago, and the relationship is nothing short of a fairytale - even though you have to keep it a secret from the world. Because of this, Tony ensures you are sent on many missions together so you can have quality time together without having to sneak out of each other's rooms in the middle of the night.

Today, you're supposed to go on a mission alone, and most of the Avengers are ready to wave you goodbye since it'll be one where you will be gone for almost a week. They're all there except one: Tony. Little do you know, however, that he has a plan up his sleeve, and he will surprise you with it in less than a minute after saying goodbye to everyone.

"Have a safe drive-" Steve can say before he gets interrupted by Tony running into the garage, panting slightly with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His cheeks are red from the exertion, making him look cute as you look at him with a small smile. The only times you're used to seeing him like this is when you've worn him out completely in the bedroom, making a flurry of butterflies go wild in your stomach.

"Fury told me to go with you, Y/N. Something about needing an extra pair of hands," he said quickly as he opened the trunk of the car, throwing his bag in and winking at you when no one could see it. You raise your brow as you look at him, a smile simultaneously tugging at the corners of your lips.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Nat shake her head slightly, a smile playing on her lips, too. Neither of you knows she has had a slight suspicion about the two of you being together, but she never talks about it, figuring you will speak to her when the timing is right.

Over the last year, you've been visiting Tony's lab more often than you used to, and Nat has started to take notice. Paired with the fact that you're going on more and more missions together and the downright flirting as you've both had a couple of drinks during parties - it all adds up to only one thing for her. You and Tony are a couple, and she couldn't be happier for the two of you.

"Alright, I'm driving!" Tony tells you before grabbing the keys from your hand. A jolt of electricity goes through your body. You look at him to see if he's felt it, too, and based on his face, you know he has. After being together for the time you have been, you two can read each other like an open book.

"Just consider this a road trip with an unexpected companion, and you'll be fine. Let's go, we have a mission to get to," Tony tells you as he gets in, and you can't help but laugh out loud at his comment. He always makes you laugh, and you wave the rest of the Avengers goodbye before getting into the car's passenger side.

Tony quickly pulls the car out of its parking spot before speeding out of the garage and off to your mission. As soon as you're out of sight, his hand is placed on your thigh, squeezing it softly as you put your hand on his.

"Thank you for coming with me, but I am pretty sure I would have been fine on my own, Tony," you say to him, raising your brow as you look at him defiantly. A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he looks back at you for a second before concentrating on the road again, squeezing your thigh again.

"But that wouldn't be any fun, now would it, Babygirl? You don't think I will let my girl go on a solo mission when our anniversary is in two days?" those words make you realize his true intentions of coming on the mission with you. He trusts you to go on missions alone but also wants to be with you on your special day.

The two of you have about a three-hour drive ahead of you, but because of the nature of the mission, going by Quinjet was off the table, so you had to make the drive out there not to raise any suspicion to yourselves. During this trip, you and Tony share a lot of sweet moments, jokes, and flirty comments, and if it were up to you, you'd want this drive to last forever.

"I believe we're here," Tony says as he parks the car in the driveway of the safe house that Fury arranged for you to stay in. It's a simple house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Nestled among the trees and manicured lawns stood a row of charming houses with white picket fences. The streets were lined with colorful flowers, and the sound of children's laughter filled the air.

You're standing on the porch overlooking the street, where kids ride their bikes and play games. Tony stands behind you, looking at them over your shoulder, his hands placed on your hips, and you sigh softly, closing your eyes for a moment. You have pictured yourself in this scenario countless times, with your kids running around and playing games as your husband, Tony, stands there with you. Unfortunately, you will have to do with the moment you're sharing now, as this idea will be far in your future.

"What's on your mind, Beautiful?" Tony asks you in a soft tone, and you shake your head. You're not ready to discuss your ideal future with him yet, seeing how you're a bit afraid he won't like it or not see you in the same way.

"Nothin'. Just enjoying the sun while I can; I doubt it'll be up for much longer," you tell him, which isn't a lie, but it's not the entire truth either. You allow yourself to melt into his hold as he wraps your arms around your waist, pulling him closer. He doesn't respond, and even though he knows you're holding something back from him, he decides not to push for it. Instead, he opts to enjoy the moment with you - the love of his life - in his arms.

The first two days of the mission have gone well, especially with the help of Tony, and now you're in the kitchen as you're preparing dinner for you both. Tony just finished his shower, and soft music fills the house around you, making the atmosphere quite relaxed.

As you finish the last touches to simple seafood pasta, Tony walks into the open kitchen, and you almost drop the pan you're holding at the sight of your boyfriend. He's wearing tight, black sweatpants that perfectly highlight his bulge, and of course, he decided now would be the perfect time to go without underwear.

Today, you and Tony are celebrating your 1.5-year anniversary. He started the day by surprising you with breakfast in bed and a beautiful bouquet of roses on the kitchen island. A small box and a card accompanied the bouquet. In the box was a necklace with the letter T, which made you chuckle.

"I love it, Tony, thank you. But you'll have to wait for your gift until we're back home tonight," you told him before kissing him deeply. The promise of what's to come later has been buzzing around in both your heads all day whenever there was a spare moment to think about anything other than the mission, and you were both eager to come home tonight.

"So, when will I be getting my present? Before or after dinner?" Tony asks as you put down the pan you're holding. He pushes his chest against your back, allowing you to feel that he's already getting hard at the thought of what's about to happen.

"I was planning on giving it to you after dinner, but I can give you a little taste of what I'm planning for later if you want it," you tell your boyfriend as you turn in his hold, your hand mingling in the hair on the nape of his neck as you pull him close.

"I would love nothing more, Babygirl," Tony whispers against your lips before closing the gap, his soft, pink lips gliding with yours effortlessly as you fully give yourself to him. A soft tug on the hair you're holding has him smirking as he pulls away, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at you with a love-filled look.

Without saying a single word, you push Tony so he's standing with his back against the kitchen island, and your hands roam over his chest, your nails dragging softly over his nipples, making him moan ever so softly. You take your time sinking to your knees, all while never losing eye contact with him as you pull his pants down just enough to free his hard cock.

"It's so big, Daddy! I don't think it'll fit in my mouth," you tell him in a semi-innocent tone, and you can see his cock twitch at your words. From the moment you found out Tony has a colossal innocence kink, you like to act the part now and again, much to his delight.

"Hmm, I think it'll fit perfectly in that perfect, tight mouth of yours, Babygirl," he tells you, his hand cupping your jaw as he looks down at the way you're sitting on your knees before him. His thumb slides over your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth, and your lips close tentatively around it before suckling softly.

"Good girl," Tony whispers before pulling his thumb away, grabbing his cock instead. Your gaze is immediately pulled to the way his veiny, pink shaft is slowly worked up and down by his large hand, his fingers curling around it just the way he likes. A small bead of pre-cum gathers at the tip, and you immediately lick it up, moaning lightly as the taste hits your tongue.

His free hand pulls you closer to it, and you open your mouth instinctively. Your lips wrap around the tip, and your eyes slip shut as you feel the comforting weight of it glide over your tongue. As you take everything Tony gives you, your hands grip his thighs, your cheeks sucked in with every inch Tony gives you.

"That's it, Babygirl, you're taking me so well in that beautiful mouth of yours," your boyfriend grunts out, and you feel your pussy clench around nothing as your arousal builds quickly. Once his tip hits the back of your throat, your eyes shoot open, and they immediately lock onto Tony's.

He pulls back a little bit before repeating the action, and this time you're prepared as he guides you further onto his cock. With a few more strokes, you're taking all of him as your nose is pressed against his pelvic bone, right between his Adonis belt. Tony groans deeply as he keeps you there for a second or two, quickly pulling out before doing it again and repeating this over and over again.

It doesn't take long for Tony to throw his head back, and he groans your name through his teeth as he's on the edge. Without warning, you pull off his cock with a loud pop before stroking his cock in tight strokes. As a result, Tony is surprised when he cums, and every last drop of his seed is on your face and outstretched tongue, making you look filthy.

"Look at you, Babygirl; here I was thinking you're such a sweet, innocent little girl, but all you want is to be painted by Daddy's cum, huh?" Tony asks before scooping some cum from your face and feeding it to you, making you swallow it with a content smile on your face.

"But I am your innocent little girl, Daddy," you say with a small pout and big doe eyes as Tony helps you up. You're still trembling a little from sitting on the tiled floor, but you're more than okay with that. He leans in to place a soft peck on your lips before sending you to the bathroom with a soft swat on your butt. He quickly cleans himself off before finishing dinner for you both, plating it beautifully right when you walk back.

"Thank you for that taste, Babygirl; I cannot wait to see what you'll have in store for dessert," Tony whispers before kissing your temple. You smile at his words, as he doesn't even know half of what you have planned for him later.

"C'mere, Babygirl," Tony says as you're seated on the couch, gesturing to your feet. You're enjoying a glass of wine, and there's a TV show playing that neither of you has heard of before, but it's nice enough for some background noise. With a soft groan, you lift your feet on his lap, and he takes off your socks, tickling the bottom of your feet.

"Hey! Not fair!" you tell him with a large smile. He nods before grabbing hold of one of them and massaging carefully - you can feel the tension seeping out of your feet with every move of his skilled hands, his long, thick fingers massaging every inch of them until you're fully relaxed.

As you give yourself over to your boyfriend's touches, you slowly feel his hand sliding up your legs to massage your shins and calves, making you groan at the comfortable feeling settling in your body. It doesn't take long for him to find your most sensitive spot, though - your inner thighs. He can spend hours planting countless kisses and loving touches there and take his sweet time as he marks them with hickies and soft bites.

"T-Tony," you plead softly as his fingers glide over the soft, sensitive skin there, goosebumps rising after his fingers take their time mapping out every inch of them, driving you insane.

"What's on your mind, Babygirl?" Tony asks, acting as if he doesn't know what his touches do to you.

"More..." you whisper, and as soon as you've put your glass down, Tony pulls you onto his lap smoothly. Before you know it, you're chest to chest with him, your lips mere inches away from each other, panting slightly as it dawns on you what just happened.

"More... what?" Tony's mouth curls into a mischievous smile, and your heart beats faster as you look at it. Moments like these have your mind racing and your heart beating out of your chest because he knows how to push you to the edge. Whichever one that may be at that moment.

Instead of answering him with words, you cup one of his cheeks with your hands, the other gliding into the hair on the nape of his neck as you close the distance between you two. Tony's hands move from your thighs up and under your shirt, and their warmth makes you melt into him even more.

The kiss is slow but filled with love and nothing short of perfection. This time, you decide to take the lead for a moment as you lick the seam of his lips for the entrance you're craving so desperately. Before your wish is granted, Tony pulls away to remove your shirt, leaving you in only your pants and a bra.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your skin as his lips find your neck and shoulder, placing small kisses that have you squirming on his lap. As you do, you can feel him getting hard again, which only spurs you on more.

"Let's take this party to the bedroom, Babygirl. I want to make nothing but sweet love to you for the rest of the night," Tony tells you, but before you can answer, he gets up, and you wrap your legs around his waist to steady yourself, a squeal escaping your lips. His face is filled with nothing but love as he looks at you. He's head over heels in love with you, and he cannot get enough of telling you - and you can't get enough of hearing it from him.

"Okay," you whisper to him. Within less than a minute, Tony made his way upstairs and to the main bedroom, where he carefully placed you on the bed before stepping back and removing his sweatpants. His cock springs free as it's fully hard, and it slaps against his abdomen with a soft splat from the pre-cum that had gathered at his tip already.

You bite on your lower lip as you look at him. Your gaze slides from his broad shoulders to the arc reactor in his chest, surrounded by his soft, dark chest hair, and from his toned abdomen to the happy trail leading you to the place you love more than anything: his glorious, thick, long cock that manages to split you open perfectly every single time. Combined with his beefy thighs and muscled calves, the sight is complete, and the man looks like the God of Perfection.

"You like what you see?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you nod as a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You've never been shy about checking him out when the two of you are alone, and he enjoys taking his time to adore you and your beautiful body as well.

"I always do, Daddy," you tell him as you ogle him for a few more seconds. When you've finally had your fill of looking at him, you lie on your back, allowing Tony to crawl over your body before leaning on one of his arms, the hand on his other one moving to caress your face. Tony takes his time to commit every inch to memory, thinking about how beautiful you are.

"I love you so much, Babygirl; I'm the luckiest man on earth because I'm calling you my girl," he whispers, his hot breath ghosting over your lips as his eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth and back. He can feel his heart beat faster at seeing your smile, as he can never get enough of looking at it and listening to your laugh. Before you get a chance to answer him, he closes the gap between you two, kissing you gently, taking his time to explore the kiss. You two have to do just that all night, and he plans to make every second of it count.

Your hands glide through his hair before pulling on it, not hard, but just enough to make him groan softly into your mouth. Meanwhile, the hand caressing your face moves your neck and over your shoulder before moving over to your bra strap, curling his fingers around it as he slides it off your shoulder.

"Let's get this off, hm? It'll be a lot more fun if I'm not looking at a bra the entire time," Tony says with a wink after pulling away from the kiss. You feel the warmth spreading over your cheeks at his words. His eyes are immediately pulled to the blush on your cheeks, and he doesn't hesitate to pepper both of them with a generous amount of kisses, making you giggle.

"Stop it! You're tickling me with your facial hair!" you protest, but instead of having mercy, he places kisses all over your face, making you squirm under him while you laugh at his ministrations. You're definitely enjoying yourself right now, and being on a mission with Tony during your anniversary only made things even better.

When Tony finally decides to have mercy, he places one last kiss on your mouth that leaves you wanting more, and you follow his mouth when he pulls away.

"Not fair," you pout, and Tony chuckles at your words, shaking his head.

"You want to know what's not fair, Babygirl? The fact that you're still wearing this bra, even though I distinctly remember wanting to get it off," he says, his eyes narrowing at the offending fabric. He shifts so that he's sitting on his knees while straddling your thighs, and he quickly unhooks your bra at the front.

The moment your nipples are exposed to the air, they perk up, and Tony moves down to wrap his lips around one of them, suckling softly as he listens to the soft moan tumbling from your lips. He uses his fingers to give attention to the other, and your hands tightly hold onto his hair as he plays with your sensitive buds.

The constant stimulation has your hips rutting up to seek friction, but every effort is fruitless, as Tony is situated in such a way that he can give you all the pleasure he wants to give you. After a few more minutes of this torturous pleasure, he switches, giving your other nipple the same care and attention as the first one.

He's taking his time to give you the most immense pleasure you've ever felt by someone playing with your nipples. You moan loudly as he carefully bites down on one of them, and your panties are practically ruined from your arousal. At the same time, you pull hair on his hair, and Tony groans against the plush flesh of your breasts, which sends shivers down your spine.

Once he's finally satisfied with the way your nipples look - red and puffy from all the time he spent playing with them - Tony moves down to the button of your pants to pull these down as well, but he ultimately decides to leave your underwear on. He wants to have a little playtime with that first.

"My God, I can smell how turned on you are, Babygirl, and it makes me so hard for you," he whispers as he noses your soaked panties, taking a whiff before letting his tongue glide over the fabric. Your back arches as the feeling of the fabric combined with his skilled tongue has you feeling everything as your sheets are fisted in the sheets to ground yourself.

"Such a sweet, tight, and perfect pussy," Tony whispers as his fingers slide the panties to the side, exposing your dripping and puffy folds, which he spreads to have a look at your fluttering entrance. It clenches around nothing as he blows on it, and you bite on your lip to supress the moan that wants to escape.

Tony looks up at you through his lashes at the sound of your muffled moan. If there's one thing he's always insistent about, it's that he wants to hear you because there's nothing more beautiful than the sound of you falling apart like that because of him. His brow is raised as you look down at him, wondering why he stopped.

"I want to hear you, Babygirl. I want to hear you fall apart on my fingers, my tongue, and my cock," Tony tells you in a stern voice, and you nod in response. With a content smile, he returns to his earlier position, this time latching onto your sensitive clit, making you moan loudly.

He smiles against your pussy as his tongue takes turns to pleasure your clit and your entrance, building your orgasm up quickly. Your chest rises and falls quickly, the pleasure quickly building to an almost blinding high when he surprises you with two of his thick, strong fingers as well. With a loud exclaim of his name, you cum on his tongue and fingers, and he works you through it carefully.

"That's it, Babygirl, let go for me! Good girl, you're a perfect girl for Daddy like this," he says between your trembling thighs, his thumb still working your clit as he laps up every last drop of your arousal. He hums in appreciation at the taste of it; his eyes closed as it coats his tongue again.

"Thank you, Daddy," you say in a breathy voice when you've come down from your high. It didn't take much for you to cum after Tony's teasing and the nipple play, but it was most definitely worth every second of anticipation. He knows your body better than you know your own, and he can play it as if it's an instrument that he took years to master.

"You're more than welcome, Babygirl, but I'm not done with you yet," he tells you between the kisses he places in a trail over your stomach and through the valley of your breasts. You sigh contently as he noses along your jaw, his facial hair feeling prickly yet lovely against the soft skin of your neck.

"I love you," you whisper as he's hovering over you, his cock achingly hard between his legs from the anticipation. He's been ignoring it for a long time, but it's finally time for him to have his fill now, too, and he's getting impatient.

"I love you too, Babygirl, so much," Tony practically purrs before capturing your lips in a heated kiss that catches you off-guard, but you quickly catch up as you pull him closer, and his cock is now resting on your belly. A small puddle of pre-cum gathers there, and you snake your hand between your bodies to give him a few strokes, getting him ready for what's about to come.

"Hmm, do that again, Babygirl," Tony says, his voice dropping almost an octave as you squeeze his tip softly, and he grunts into your ear as you do exactly as he asks. He ruts into your hand at the feeling of your small fist around his cock, your fingers barely touching as you're wrapped around him. He groans as he keeps fucking your hand, but before it's too late, he quickly pulls away, leaving you with a slight pout on your face.

"Don't worry, sweet girl, there's plenty of time to do that later, but I can't wait any longer to be buried in your tight, pink pussy." Your heart races as his words sink in, and you involuntarily clench around nothing but air, your pussy eager to be filled by your boyfriend's thick cock, splitting you open just the way you like it.

A few seconds later, Tony lines up with your entrance, a loud moan tumbling from your puffy lips as the tip breaches your entrance. Your hands are fisted in the sheets as you allow him to fill you up completely, short strokes ensuring he doesn't hurt you in the process. Grunts fall from his lips as he works his shaft into your squeezing, tight pussy.

"That's it, take my cock, such a good girl for Daddy." You will never get used to the feeling of Tony sliding, but you welcome it nevertheless. From the moment you two stopped using condoms, and you started birth control, your sex life has changed completely. Where you were always ready for each other before, you have become insatiable after that.

The second his cock hits your sweet spot, you arch your back into him, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even closer. His face is nuzzled into your neck as a comfortable silence has fallen over you both. Your fingers trail abstract figures on his shoulders and back as you enjoy each other's feelings. All you have to think about is each other and your love.

Once Tony cannot take it any longer to stay still, he starts with slow, shallow thrusts that have you whimpering softly and a smile tugging at Tony's mouth.

"So good, Babygirl, you feel so good around my cock, I can't wait to fill you with my cum and watch it leak out of you when I'm done. God, my balls are so full for you," he whispers in your ear, his hips thrusting into your welcoming pussy faster and faster with each stroke. The sound of your combined moans and skin slapping against your skin is like the chorus of your love, and you never want this song to end.

"I'm close, Babygirl, 'm gonna fill you up," he groans, and you're so far gone you cannot even form coherent sentences anymore. Your moans are becoming louder, and your nails are now digging into his back instead of tracing lazy figures, and red welts are appearing where your nails are raking down his broad, muscled back.

As his high is quickly approaching, Tony moves his face from your neck in a way that has your foreheads touching, making this moment even more intimate than it already was. The brown of his eyes has been completely replaced by his dilated pupils, lust being visible in them.

"Cum with me, Babygirl, please," he begs, and you nod as your bodies move together perfectly, your highs both building rapidly. The second Tony's hand moves between your bodies and reaches your clit, and you're squeezing him like a vice, your legs trembling as you cum for him, shortly followed by Tony.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Squeezing me perfectly, Jesus! Can't wait to fuck you so full of my cum that it has no way to go but inside you, get you nice and round with my babies," Tony grunts through his orgasm, the long, slow strokes replaced by short and quick ones as he spills every last drop of him inside you, the warmth filling you up completely.

Tony takes his time to ride out both your orgasms, but as soon as you're both too sensitive, he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty yet satisfied after everything that happened. With a smirk, he keeps hovering over you, your faces mere centimeters apart. You reach up to kiss his lips softly, making your heart flutter at the feeling.

"I love you so much, Babygirl," Tony whispers before placing one more peck on your lips and taking his place beside you. As you curl onto his side, you hook your leg over him, and your arm lies on his stomach, your hand tracing circles over his arc reactor. You two stay in the comfortable silence for a few minutes before getting up for a much-needed bath.

"You can stay in bed, Babygirl. I'll run a bath for us both and get some of your favorite fruits to eat as we're relaxing," he tells you, and you nod at his words. The second he slips out of the bath, you miss him and his warmth, but that is quickly forgotten when he's ready for you to get into the tub's warm water.

"There you go, such a good girl," Tony says as you sit in the bath, a blush creeping over your cheeks. His praise will always make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Your boyfriend quickly joins you in the bath before pulling you onto his lap, his fingers massaging your sore muscles as you nibble on the sweet fruit he brought up in a bowl.

"Happy anniversary, Daddy," you tell him right before popping a piece of the fruit in his mouth, and he smiles contently as he chews it.

"Happy anniversary, Babygirl. I hope there will be many more just like this one," he says, sealing his promise with a soft and loving kiss.

It's been about eight weeks since you and Tony celebrated your anniversary on the mission, but now you're lying in bed with a cold compress on your head and your trashcan nearby in case another wave of nausea threatens to come back. You were supposed to be training with Natasha, but you had to cancel due to how you're feeling.

Instead of being in the training room with you, Natasha sits on your bed to keep you company, talking your ear off about her crush on Bruce. While you're usually all ears about it, you can now only think about one thing: the birth control pill you forgot all those weeks ago.

"I think I might be pregnant," you croak out when Natasha is waiting for an answer to a question you didn't catch.

"You're-"

"Pregnant, yes. Or so I think," you tell her with a groan as you slide the compress onto your eyes to shield them from the light in the hopes that you're saved from your next wave of nausea, but to no avail. While Nat usually chats to her heart's content, she's silent as the news sinks in.

"It's Tony's, isn't it?" she outright asks, and you sit up too quickly, which is a bad idea, as you grab the trashcan once more.

"H-how did you-" is all you can say, but she just gives you a reassuring smile.

"I'm not blind, Detka; you and Tony have been hanging out more and more together, and believe it or not, you're not as subtle as you both think you are. While I doubt any of the others would pick up on it, I have had my suspicions for quite a while," Natasha tells you, and you nod.

"We've been together for a little over a year and a half; we started dating after the mission that almost cost me my life," you tell her with a smile. He makes you truly happy, but the thought of being pregnant also scares you.

"On the one hand, I'm hoping it's true, that I am indeed pregnant, but on the other hand, I'm not sure what to feel if it's true. We never even talked about having kids, and even though I'm more than ready to take the next step, I don't know about him! What if he leaves me and doesn't want the baby? Do I take care of it by myself or put it up for adoption?" The words are all coming out in a long stream as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

"Why don't we start by calming down and taking a test before jumping to conclusions? I understand it's scary, but before we take a test, there's nothing to worry about, okay?" she tells you, and you nod. This is how you find yourself sitting on your bed, staring at a timer after taking a test.

The moment it goes off, you turn the test over, and it shows a clear positive. You're carrying Tony's baby, and mixed feelings are swirling through your body. Happiness and anxiety are at the top.

"I'm having a baby," you whisper as you show her the test. Without saying a word, she pulls you into a hug, and you let your emotions go for a moment. Sobs are tearing through your body, and she's there to comfort you through it all. Natasha has been there for you through everything since you became an Avenger, and this won't be any different.

"I'm so happy for you, Detka," Natasha says as she lets her tears fall. During her time in the red room, the ability to carry children has been brutally taken away from her, but that doesn't mean she won't be there for you. She will live the pregnancy vicariously through you, and you're more than happy to share it with her.

"You'll be a great Mom, Detka. They're lucky to have you as a Mom," Nat whispers, and you nod in her hold. When you've both come down from the initial shock and emotions, you stare at the test some more, and the worry immediately makes way for happiness. You're going to be a Mom, and you can't wait to meet the baby growing inside you.

Eventually, Natasha has to leave for an appointment, and you go to the kitchen, though your bounds of nausea are most prevalent in the morning. As you stand by the counter, you hear Tony's footsteps come into the kitchen when, and you close your eyes, gripping your glass as he comes to stand beside you.

"Can we talk for a moment? I have barely seen you for these past two weeks, and I'm worried about you," Tony asks. The worry in his voice is evident, and you know you don't have a choice other than to talk to him. With a soft sigh, you nod and follow him to his office, the closest private space where it's normal for the two of you to talk.

Here goes nothing, you tell yourself as you close the door behind you, the pregnancy test still in your back pocket as you step into the ample space. Tony's about to discover your recklessness, and you're 99% sure you will be single after this conversation. However, nothing could be further from the truth.

[hadouwave]

masami obari

[weevil-wallflower]

Scars

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: Even a Jedi Knight needs some reassurance from time to time.

Warnings/Tags: Spoilers for Jedi: Survivor, canon-typical violence, SFW, no use of Y/N, minor angst.

A.N.: My fifth entry for Cal Kestis Week 2024! It follows the Day 4 prompt ‘Scars’. I've been meaning to get this one out like four days ago, on the last day of Cal Kestis Week but unfortunately work and studies prevented me from finishing it on time. And yes, another older prompt but I simply had to use this idea! Gif by me!

Also on AO3!

Word Count: ~1,600

The final moments of Cal’s fight with Dagan were a blur of pain and fury. As the duel between Cal and Dagan came to a brutal end, Dagan’s lightsaber struck Cal across his chest, sending a shockwave of agony through his body. The sizzling sound of burning flesh filled the air as Cal staggered, his tunic scorched around the fresh wound while his lightsaber clattered to the floor.

The redhead clutched the wound as he felt the charred fabric of his tunic cling to the cauterised wound. The world around him flipped as he collapsed to the ground, his vision narrowing to the sight of Dagan’s triumphant sneer.

Taking in a deep breath and pushing away the pain for the moment, Cal Force-pulled his lightsaber towards him and used one of Dagan’s own hallucinations against him. He focused intently, allowing the Force to shape his image into that of Santari, Dagan’s late friend. The vision caught Dagan off guard, his defense faltering as he grappled with the apparition of the one person who he trusted most. Seizing the opportunity, Cal's lightsaber blazed with lethal accuracy, piercing right through Dagan's chest. Dagan's pained scream was mixed with a sizzling sound as the blade tore through muscle and bone. Cal twisted the sword, guaranteeing a fatal strike.

Just as victory appeared to be imminent, Dagan used the Force to painfully seize Cal's body, suspending him mid-air. Dagan’s voice, filled with rage and desperation, rang through the chamber as he yelled about Tanalorr, his dream fading away. Cal struggled against the invisible grip, his own strength waning.

BD-1, seeing the peril his friend was in, acted swiftly. With frantic beeps and nudges, the little droid managed to wake Bode, who had previously been rendered unconscious by Dagan. Realising the dire situation, Bode aimed his blaster at Dagan and fired, the shot breaking Dagan’s concentration and releasing Cal from his grasp.

With a final lethal strike to across the chest, Cal sent Dagan crumpling to the ground, his body twitching as the life drained from his eyes. Cal stood over him, his chest heaving with the effort and pain of the fight.

Bode slowly approached the redhead, his expression a mix of relief and concern. “Cal, are you okay?” He asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Cal glanced at Bode, his face a mask of determination despite the agonising pain in his chest. "I'm fine," he lied, his voice strained. All he wanted was to get away from there and be in your comforting arms.

Bode studied him for a moment, seeing through the facade but deciding not to press further. He placed a reassuring hand on Cal's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "You did good, brother," Bode said softly, his tone filled with warmth. "Go on ahead. I'll stay and survey the area. And see if I can find a manual for that compass or something..."

Cal nodded, a wave of gratitude washing over him at Bode's support. "Thanks, Bode," he replied, his voice a bit more genuine.

With a final look at his fallen foe and a nod to Bode, Cal turned and made his way back towards Pyloon’s Saloon. Hand pressed to the wound on his chest, each step sent a wave of pain radiating through his body but he forced himself onwards, driven by the need to be with you. He knew that in your arms, he would find the solace and comfort he desperately needed.

When he finally entered your shared quarters below Pyloon’s Saloon, stumbling in through the back door—most likely to avoid everyone in the cantina—You were already there waiting for him, your expression one of great concern. As soon as Cal stumbled in, BD-1 hopped down from his back, rushing over to You with worried beeps about the Jedi.

“Cal,” You said softly, rushing over to his side. “Let me take a look at that.”

He nodded, his emerald eyes meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and resignation. His tunic sported a burnt slash across his chest where the lightsaber had struck him, the fabric singed and charred around the wound. Carefully, You guided him to sit on the bed, your touch gentle but firm. You gently pried his tunic off, being careful not to aggravate the wound further before You began to examine the injury. BD-1 perched on your shoulder, his beeps and chirps a constant stream of worry as he watched You work.

When the wound came into view, You couldn’t help but gasp at the horrible sight, your heart aching for the pain Cal had endured. The wound was a searing, angry red slash across his chest, blackened at the edges and blistered from the intense heat of the lightsaber.

The silence in your quarters was thick with unspoken words. As You worked, Cal couldn’t help but shakily trail his fingers over the fresh slash on his chest, wincing at the pain but also more at the thought of yet another mark added to his already scarred body. Each one told a story of pain and survival, a testament to the battles he had fought. His body was already littered with scars—what was another?

The redhead’s mind swirled with anguished thoughts. How could You, someone so beautiful and kind, love someone like him? How could You look at his scarred body and see anything other than ugliness—to see someone who was capable of more than just war and violence? The doubts gnawed at him, twisting in his gut like a knife.

After cleaning the wound and sealing it with a bacta patch, You looked up at him, your eyes solemn. “This will scar,” You said quietly, your voice tinged with sadness.

Cal forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, it’s just another one for the collection, right? Sure to impress you...”

Despite his playful words, the tone of his voice was heavy with sorrow. You could see the weight of his past experiences and hardships pressing down on him, the scars not just on his skin but deep within his soul.

You paused, your hands still on his chest and met his gaze with a gentle, unwavering look. “Cal,” You said softly, “you could be doing anything at all—something as simple as planting a seed in the cantina’s garden—and you would still impress me.”

The sincerity in your voice penetrated his defenses, and for a moment, the pain and fear melted away. He looked at You, really looked, and saw the depth of your care and admiration for him. It wasn’t the scars that defined him in your eyes, but the strength, courage and kindness that lay beneath them.

A lump formed in Cal’s throat as he struggled to find the right words. “You have no idea how much that means to me…” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. In that moment, the weight of his battles felt lighter, the burden of his scars less daunting.

You smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of fiery hair from his forehead. “I do, Cal. And I’m here with you, scars and all.”

BD-1 let out a soft, comforting beep, hopping down from your shoulder to nestle closer to Cal to affirm your words.

Under the soft light of your shared quarters, as the tender moment between You and Cal lingered, You were overcome with a sudden urge to reassure him of your love and acceptance, scars and all. Gently, You leaned in and pressed a tender kiss around the fresh slash on his chest, feeling the tension in his body begin to melt away. Cal’s breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as he absorbed the warmth of your touch.

Moving upwards, You kissed the long scar on his upper right jaw, your lips lingering on the raised line, and tingling from the roughness of his short beard. You then moved to the small scar across his right eyebrow, kissing it softly. Eyes still closed, Cal’s mind was rampant with emotions he could barely contain. His heart pounded in his chest as the contact sent a shiver down his spine. Each kiss was like a balm, soothing the lingering pain and doubts that haunted him.

Next, You placed a delicate kiss on the scar across his nose, before your fingers gently traced the path of the old wound. Cal’s hands, which has been tightly gripping the edge of the bed, slowly relaxed, moving up to rest on your waist as if seeking the comfort and stability that only You could provide.

Finally, You reached the small scar that ran across his lower lip. You pressed your lips against it tenderly, feeling the slight roughness beneath the softness of his skin. Cal’s eyes opened, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The anguish in his heart was replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.

When You finally pulled away, You gazed into Cal’s emerald eyes and saw tears silently streaming down his cheeks. Your heart clenched at the sight, but before You could voice your concerns, he softly assured You, “They’re tears of happiness.”

A giggle escaped your lips, the sound joyful and filled with relief. “I’m glad,” You whispered, wiping away his tears with your thumb. “Because you mean everything to me, Cal.”

Cal pulled You into a tight embrace, his strong arms holding You close as if You were his anchor in a storm. The weight of his scars felt lighter now, due to a reminder of your love and acceptance. And as You nestled against him, You knew that together, you both could face anything, bound by a love that was stronger than any scar could be.

[seiya-starsniper]

For the hurt/comfort prompts

I'd like 14 with Morphenne or 4 with Hobrintheus, please. I'm excited to what you would envision for either of them.

14 - "Thank you for sticking by my side." - from the Hurt/Comfort Prompts

This wip is MONTHS in the making, and I'm so happy to finally be able to share it! Big thanks to @sandman-rarepair-fest for giving me the motivation to finish it 😄 Go check out the other fics people are posting for the event!

Rating: General Status: Complete Chapters: 1/1 Words: 2,958 Warnings: No Warnings Apply Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hell Invasion, Post-Battle, Feelings Realization, First Kiss Summary: Hell invades the Dreaming, and in the aftermath, Lucienne is always there for Dream. But who will be there for Lucienne when she needs help?

Read more below, or over on AO3: Hopelessly (I'll love you Endlessly)

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When Hell makes its move on the Dreaming and attacks, aiming for a complete invasion, there are thousands of casualties in the ensuing battle. Some injuries are fatal, and Dream feels each last breath, every agonizing scream, as their brief lives blink in and then out of existence. Each death is a wound, more painful than any direct cut to Dream himself, and Lucifer’s demons know it. So they aim for the weaker dreams first, those easiest to kill, to maximize the quantity of injuries they can inflict on the Dream Lord before they eventually move to target the more powerful dreams who actually have a fighting chance. 

Fiddler’s Green devours a hundred demons before his pastures are burned to ash, Gault’s wings are torn from her back as she takes on a high ranked demon lord, and Cain for once does not get to kill his brother Abel, for another demon guts him first. Cain, in revenge, takes out three upper level demons before he too falls to the rage and brutality of Hell. 

It does not take them long to breach the outer walls of the castle. More dreams and nightmares fall. Dream cries in agony with each new one, and Lucienne grips him tight in her arms, her and Matthew’s presence the only comfort in the otherwise cold emptiness of the throne room.

Dream wants to fight, wants the demons Hell and Lucifer themselves to pay for what they’ve done. And they will. He is ready for them. They are ready for them.

What the demons of Hell do not know, what Dream has been carefully guarding since his return from a hundred years imprisonment is this: that the Dreaming has been refortified so that it may never fall to ruin in Dream’s absence again. Or in an invasion, such that the current situation is.

In each of the denizens of the Dreaming, Dream has placed a small piece of his power within them, effectively turning each and every one into a dreamstone, forever connected to their lord in such a way so that Dream will never be cut off from his realm again. Through this deepened bond with his subjects, they will always know where he is, and he, in turn, will always be able to call on them.

The deepened connection, however, has its drawbacks. Each new death feels like a cut directly to Dream’s body, to his soul, and he cannot help the torrent of grief that engulfs him every moment another dream perishes. But at the same time, their deaths are simultaneously a balm, an injection of power that revitalizes him. Each and every dream fallen in battle has not actually died, but instead, their essences have been called inside his body, providing Dream with a limitless supply of power and energy. Their wills too, lie intact within him, and Dream is filled with their hopes, their pain, their fury.

Only when the doors break down and Lucifer’s army spills into the throne room, does Lucienne release her hold on him. Dream can feel her smile at his back as he transforms into his Nightmare form, channeling the pain and rage of each and every fallen dream into one unrelenting attack after the other. The demons of Hell don’t stand a chance.

Lucifer flees, abandoning their own people to their deaths, when they see what Dream has done. What he has become. Dream chases them as far as the gates, and then roars in victory when the Lord of Hell disappears over the horizon. The message is clear. Dream of the Endless is more powerful than ever, and any that wishes to prove otherwise shall be met with the full strength of his power. 

Invoking such a power, however, has its own set of consequences.

When the last of the demons fall, and the Dreaming is once again safe, Dream collapses onto the floor of the throne room, crying in agony as he tries to soothe the pain of death for more than a thousand different entities residing within him. The dreams are loud in their sorrow, and it is so much grief, so much heartbreak, it is all too much. 

Fiddler’s Green is the first to be resurrected, and then Gault. It is all he can manage before Dream is reduced to a sobbing, useless mess. 

Lucienne holds him throughout the night, whispering words of comfort to Dream, and all that reside within him. It soothes the ache by the tiniest fraction, and he is grateful for her embrace. 

With each day that passes, Dream brings another dream, another nightmare, back to life. With each life revived, the agony fades, but the memories of their deaths, their feelings in those moments do not. Dream had accepted the risk of this when he had asked for the denizens’ permission to imbue himself even further into their lives. Each and every resident had given their consent, some more freely and easily than others, but all had agreed that not knowing where Dream had gone for the last hundred years was worse than what Dream was asking them to give him. 

Lucienne and Matthew stay by his side, holding vigil as Dream wrestles with the tangle of wills raging inside him. 

Eventually, Dream expels the last of the dreams from his body, and soon the only voice residing inside his head is his. He allows himself a short reprieve to rest and recover, then sets to repairing the damage to his castle. 

“No offense, boss,” Mervyn tells him days later, when Dream is feeling more himself, “but I never want to share a body with you and everyone else in here ever again.”

Dream laughs, despite himself, but when Mervyn is gone, he sobs into Lucienne’s arms, unsure why he is still feeling so emotionally fraught.

“You took on a lot to keep us all safe,” Lucienne tells him, her voice soothing and low. “You have never infused yourself so closely with us before. Of course it would overwhelm you.”

Dream knows this, and yet, still he feels like he is drowning in a sea of unending grief.

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After he finishes repairing the castle, Dream takes some time to wander the Dreaming to assess the full extent of the damage done by Hell’s forces, Lucienne follows his lead, taking careful notes of all the things that need to be repaired, while also making sure that Dream does not take on too many restoration efforts in one sitting. Mervyn helps with some of the smaller repairs, however the large majority of fixes to the realm still fall to Dream to complete.

Dream expects Lucienne to eventually return to her librarian duties, once Dream is mostly recovered and well enough to fully dedicate himself to restoring the Dreaming to its former glory. But even after the majority of the realm has been recovered, Lucienne does not leave his side. Instead, she continues to keep vigil over Dream, never straying more than a few paces from him, when she can help it. In the days immediately after the attack, Dream had grown so used to her constantly being within his peripheral vision that it takes him some time to remember that this was not always how things had been between them. Even Matthew, who has never been more than breath away since he had become Dream’s raven, does not keep nearly as close of a watch on Dream these days. Because Lucienne is always there. 

“You do not need to be my shadow any longer, Lucienne,” Dream says one afternoon when they are alone together in the throne room and reviewing Mervyn’s latest reports of needed repairs. Most of the remaining items are small, with the exception of the Sea of Nightmares, which seems to have grown quite restless in the past few days. Though Dream would prefer to get the rest of the small repairs over and done with, so he can focus solely on the Sea of Nightmares, Lucienne has forbidden him from exerting any more of his powers for today. 

Lucienne purses her lips at his words, her eyes kind even as she frowns at him.

“I am where I am needed, sire,” she replies. Dream sighs. He had expected this.

“Lucienne, you have many responsibilities to attend to, and I am well enough to hold my own without your aid,” Dream says. 

Lucienne shakes her head. “You may need me, sire,” is all she says in response, before she returns back to reviewing Mervyn’s reports. 

Dream hates himself for not trying harder to keep Lucienne at bay, to insist that he is fine. But the truth of the matter is that Dream is tired. He is tired of his function, tired of having to defend himself and his realm time and time again, tired of carrying the weight of the entire universe and its unconscious minds on his shoulder with no hope for reprieve. 

The only time Dream feels even a modicum of relief is when Lucienne is there. Lucienne, who places his hand in hers and squeezes it to distract him from his maudlin thoughts. Lucienne, who takes stock of all the restored dreams and nightmares, ensuring that they have fully recovered from their ordeal with Hell’s minions. Lucienne, who still hums a lullaby in a long dead language from a long dead planet, in the quiet of the throne room, knowing that the sound soothes Dream’s ever fraying nerves.

So Dream does not press further when Lucienne insists on keeping watch over him, even as he feels as though she is treating him like a piece of fragile glass that could shatter any moment.

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

When Dream finally ventures out to the Sea of Nightmares to assess the damage Hell’s forces have done to its waters, the waves rush up to meet him, and Dream braces himself to be pulled within their depths. The Sea has been temperamental ever since the battle with Hell, and Dream knows it is likely questioning his competence. It is just another thing he will have to weather, another challenge to be conquered. He is prepared to remind the old nightmares that dwell beneath that he is still their master, that the battle with Hell has only made him stronger, not weaker.

But the waves of the Sea crash just past him, enveloping Lucienne instead and pulling her down into the cold dark depths.

Dream does not think twice before he follows, desperately diving in after her.

The Sea of Nightmares is vast and infinite, containing the collective fears of every being within its waters. Dream feels his own insecurities rise to meet him, threatening to swallow him whole. The Sea recounts each and every death that Dream allowed to happen, all of the pain his subjects had to suffer at the hands of Lucifer and their demons. It reminds Dream of his century long imprisonment, of how he let his realm fall to decay. It recalls how Dream has scorned and hurt those closest to him, from Nada to Hob Gadling. How he continues to hurt those closest to him. Especially Lucienne. 

Lucienne.

Dream’s eyes snap open, clarity piercing through the darkness of the Sea, as he remembers the reason he’d jumped into the water. His goal recalled, Dream starts to swim in the direction of Lucienne. Though he cannot yet see her, he can feel her, and he will not let his rogue creation take her from him.

He spots her not far south from his current location, and Dream dives downwards to reach her. As he swims closer to Lucienne’s location, Dream realizes the Sea has shifted. It is no longer showing him his deepest fears and insecurities.

No, he realizes with a sense of growing dread. It is showing him Lucienne’s.

Lucienne had always been steadfast in her devotion to him, and Dream had always believed they had an easy understanding of one another, a shared goal to keep the Dreaming alive and well, a sense of honor and duty. As Dream reaches out to grasp Lucienne’s hand, however, he realizes the depths of her devotion. Not only to the Dreaming, but to Dream himself.

The Sea shifts again, this time revealing to Dream Lucienne’s deepest fears. It shows him the countless lonely nights spent waiting at the Gates of the Dreaming, waiting, hoping, praying for Dream’s return. Another wave shifts the image to the sight of Dream, bruised and broken, as Lucifer’s minions invade. Yet another shows Dream, alone and surrounded by nothing but death and chaos, clearly prepared to sacrifice himself to some yet unseen force.

What Lucienne fears most, the Sea seems to whisper to him, is losing the one she loves most. Losing Dream.

Dream feels wretched. Undeserving. How had he not noticed that she carried these feelings for him all these years? He had always been perceptive, able to easily glean even the most carefully guarded secrets, and yet, this one has gone beneath his notice.

Or perhaps, he thinks to himself, he had simply refused to see it. 

Dream’s despair threatens to pull them both deeper into the Sea of Nightmares, to drown both he and Lucienne in the cold, cold, dark, but Dream will not let it. The Sea of Nightmares is still his subject after all, and it will heed the call of its master. Of Dream of the Endless. 

The Sea heeds his call and releases them. Dream takes Lucienne and then swims to the surface.

He breaks through to the surface just moments later, gasping for air and clutching Lucienne to his chest. She is unconscious, likely due to the shock of the Sea’s attack on her. With a single thought from Dream’s mind, they are both transported to his private chambers, and he lays her carefully on a wide bed with dark satin sheets, before replacing both of their wet clothes with dry ones. Then he fashions himself a chair to sit in and waits. 

Lucienne gasps as she wakes an undetermined amount of time later, coughing fitfully as if her body were trying to dislodge the water from the Sea of Nightmares from her lungs. But she is a creature of the Dreaming, and so there was never a true risk of her drowning.

“My lord?” Lucienne says once she’s caught her breath, turning to him. “What—what happened?”

“The Sea of Nightmares is still yet unstable,” Dream answers. “It stole you beneath the waters.”

“I—see,” Lucienne replies, her brow furrowing. “And you— you rescued me?” she asks, widening her eyes as shock then worry crosses her features.  “My lord, that was a dangerous maneuver. You could have been greatly hurt.”

“I could not lose you, Lucienne,” Dream says simply. It was true. Lucienne has always been an instrumental part of the Dreaming, of Dream’s function, but she had truly become invaluable to him when he had returned from his imprisonment at the hands of Roderick Burgess. Lucienne had shone a light on Dream’s weaknesses, had helped him see past his own pride as he struggled to adjust himself to a realm that had rotted away in his absence. She had shown Dream that change need not be a terrifying thing, that it could be beautiful, not just in his creations, but in Dream himself.   

“My lord,” Lucienne argues, “it is still not worth the risk—”

“You are worth every risk, Lucienne,” Dream interrupts her, cutting off the thought before she could finish it. “There is no one more valuable to me than you,” he adds, and realizes he means it. Lucienne had become wholly irreplaceable to him, and that could only mean one thing. 

“I have been negligent in saying so in the past,” Dream continues. “But I would like to thank you. For staying by my side for all this time. For believing in me, even when others had given up. For giving me—” he pauses, then takes one of Lucienne’s hands in his, raising it to his lips. She inhales sharply, caught off guard by the intimate gesture. “Something I still do not think I deserve.”

“My lord?” Lucienne asks, breathless.

“Lucienne,” Dream murmurs, his lips ghosting along the knuckles of her fingers. “I do not yet believe I am worthy of your love.” He looks up at her, hoping that she sees that he is serious about his declaration. “But I would like to be, if you’ll allow it.”

Lucienne’s eyes widen, then crinkle as she lets out a small huff of laughter. “I would respectfully disagree with that assessment sire,” she replies, turning her hand in his to squeeze it in return. “You do not see yourself as I do,” she adds, her voice soft and fond.

“Clearly, else I would have noticed your affections sooner,” Dream replies, feeling his own lips quirk upwards as he returns her smile.

“Perhaps that is only a testament to how well I know you, that I kept them hidden for so long,” Lucienne teases. Dream barks out a laugh, and it echoes loudly in his chambers, but he does not care. Lucienne has heard him laugh many times in the past few thousand years, so he is unashamed to let her hear him now. 

“Perhaps,” he allows. “But now you are no longer permitted to keep those feelings secret. I would have all of them, immediately.”

Lucienne rolls her eyes, but still stares at him, fondness clearly etched across her lovely face. 

“You have always been greedy with your lovers,” Lucienne answers. “But I suppose I do not mind that about you.”

Dream’s only response is to pull Lucienne into a deep, breathtaking kiss. 

[adokle]

"From now on Call me No. 1..." | "Au revoir."

---

Cortez x Laurence Blood from Fatal Fury & Antoine | Pielle Montario from Breakers

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love, part 11 (steddie, steve whump fic, stobin)

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 12 Part 13

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Steve POV

1978—Lover’s Lake

Steve sinks, pulls upward with all he’s got left. He bursts through the surface, screaming: “Dad! Mom! Dad? I’m… lost… Heeeelp!”

The dark waters close seamlessly above his head.

His panic dies quickly, along with the burning pressure in his chest. He sees a swimmer approaching across the depths, like a light rippling through gloom. Their face is kind and strange—he can’t tell if they’re young or really old, or a guy or girl.

“Not yet,” they say. Their arms fold around him, and he’s calm and he isn’t cold. 

Until he is. 

A thousand icy needles jab at his skin, and he whimpers at the sensation of being dragged, carried. Voices shout in harsh, frightening tones, and then…

Apart from in his dreams, he doesn’t see THEM again for another seven years.

“Who do you work for?” demands that Soviet son-of-a-bitch, for the billionth time. 

Steve is tied up, bloodied, not sure if he’s laughing or crying. He’s sure as heck losing his mind, and… wtf? 

The other Soviet bastard raises his hand.

“Oh, come on! No, no, no, seriously?”

Steve doesn’t see the blow coming. Pain flashes up and darkness slams down—the darkness of blood, a rising, relentless tide. It washes him back into that calm place, and all his panic and pain float away.

He sees THEM again, in the fearless dark. 

“Still not yet,” they whisper.

The echoes hook him back. It’s Robin: “Help, heeeeelp!”

Oh yeah, they’ve been captured by the Soviets.

“My ears are ringing,” he tells her, “I can’t properly breathe, and I feel like my eyes’s about to pop out of my skull. Apart from that, I’m doing pretty good.”

He shouldn’t be, though. If there wasn’t so much else to be shitting himself about, he’d be yelling it loud enough to deafen them both. After that mauling from Hargrove, the doctor’s warning had been brutal. Any more head trauma, and he might have a stroke, a brain bleed, go blind, deaf, lose his memory, go mad. He could even die. He should be dead now, right?

Then it all gets even whackier. 

A blue tide rushes through the Soviet base. He yells for Robin, but everything’s already obliterated. The waters carry him along, limbs flailing free, no longer hurting, not even so scared. He knows it’s THEM, although this tsunami isn’t gentle. It’s Niagara levels of powerful and near as water can get to fire and fury. 

“You’ll know,” they tell him. “You’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

Then he’s back in the present, slowly waking up.  

He figures he’s been dreaming. Yeah, about those evil Soviets, and about… stuff that didn’t happen. Where the hell did that flood and fire crap come from?

“You’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

It’s deeply freaky, and he hates it. And Jesus Christ, why is his shoulder a screaming mess of pain? He opens his eyes.

“Robin?” She’s in her usual spot, sitting on the edge of his bunk. 

“Steve? Oh, thank God!”

“What happened this time? I’m so sick of…” He raises his head, flops it back again. There’s a bone-deep ache through his neck and both his arms. His wrists feel mangled. “Shit! Somebody was coming! Did they… Where’s Eddie?”

She puffs through her nostrils. “It’s okay. It was Hopper and El.”

Yeah, that makes some sorta sense. Hopper and Eleven were on the run too, after all. “Where’s Eddie? Is he all right?”

“Don’t ask me. Not spoken to him since he left you unconscious, hanging by one wrist. What was he even thinking?”

Blood rushes to Steve’s face. “That wasn’t entirely his fault. Honestly, I… uh…”

“I don’t care if you begged him on one knee! It was utterly moronic.”

“Listen, I was a moron too—it was matching moronic-ness. We were fooling around, and… Look, I passed out after he left to warn you. Before that, I basically forced him to go.”

“Forced him while roped up? You get yet another pass, Dingus. It’s gonna take a short-to-medium-length Ice Age for him to earn the same.”

Steve sighs hard. He’ll talk her around when he’s gotten the energy.

“Steve, can I ask you something?” She picks at the last flakes of that nail polish..

“If I said ‘no,’ would it make any difference?”

“Do you know anything about the fantastically random rainstorm last night?”

“About the whut?” 

His mind starts racing, in sync with his pulse. Trouble is, he’s beginning to get it. He knows that they—that thing in Lover’s Lake—saved his life. More than once. He still hasn’t got a clue about the rain. Or has he?

You freaked out last night, and thunder clouds hijacked your brain.

“Steve? You okay?”

“Jesus, I’m…” Nope, still not great. He slowly sits up. Under the blanket, he’s shirtless. He catches his left arm with his right, cradling it.

“Does your shoulder hurt bad?”

“No, Robin. It’s just randomly gone purple. Gonna be pitching for the Hoosiers this weekend for sure.” He notices one of his wrists is bandaged. “Got any of those left? Guess I’ll need a sling or something.”

“Yeah, I tried the lake water trick. Not much happened this time. On the other hand, Hopper said it was a miracle you didn’t dislocate it, so…  I’ll, uh, go get him. He’s got a ton of fresh supplies."

She goes, and Steve painfully eases his way into a clean shirt. It turns out to be another Hellfire Club one, which Eddie brought back from his meet at Skull Rock. Oh genius, Henderson, just brilliant! Get Eddie and me walking around with targets painted on our chests, why don’t you? Worse, I’m gonna look like a nerd. With TERRIBLE HAIR. The effort of getting his sweater on over it all, literally brings tears to his eyes. 

Then he sits up straight, on the edge of the bunk. He supports his bad arm, while forcing his features into his best ‘don’t-give-a-damn’ mask. 

When Hopper stoops under the door of the bunkroom, Steve’s jaw drops anyhow. He barely recognises the guy. Uh… wow? He’s not wearing a police uniform, but he still looks in goddamn charge, with an Indiana-Jones style hat that screams authority. He’s even gotten his hands on what looks like a police-issue firearm, in a halter at his side.

“Hey,” says Hopper. “You got yourself pretty beat up again, huh?”

“My shoulder hurts,” he whispers. It comes out so humiliatingly shakily, that when Hopper takes off his hat and sits down beside him, Steve looks away sharply. Oh, for Christ’s sake! He sniffs, dabs his eyes, pulls himself together. “It’s not so bad,” he mumbles.

“Yeah? You got tough joints, kid.”

Steve bites his lip to the point of pain.

Hopper’s brought a first-aid kit, and he fashions a sling for him. As he does, he fills Steve in on a few more details of how the hell he came back from the dead. Also, about what’s been going on in Hawkins, which is basically under military occupation. He ties the sling behind Steve’s neck, squeezes his good shoulder. “You take it easy. Sun’s up and we’ll be off in a few minutes.”

Hopper heads out. Steve scowls at his back. 

He ought to be relieved Hopper’s here. Admittedly, he’s been a total flop at taking care of himself and the others. Which only makes him more pissed with Hopper. How could somebody go through that in a Soviet gulag, win a wrestling match with demo-gorgons, and still come out alive, swinging, and the toughest dude in the state?

He gets his sneakers on and staggers as far as the door. Robin is loading the remnants of their supplies into an armoured Humvee, painted in military khaki and spattered with mud. Hopper’s fiddling under the hood, and Eleven hovers nearby. She gives Steve a sort-of smile, which he returns, while seething, 

That sick son-of-a-bitch Brenner took her hair again?

 “Where’s Eddie?” he asks, stepping further out, while fighting a wave of dizziness.

“Skulking,” calls Eddie, sloping out from some hiding spot. Robin folds her arms and stomps away. Steve squelches across the sticky ground toward Eddie. He looks so forlorn—hair flattened like a soggy puppy’s—that Steve can’t help grinning. 

“Sorry,” mouths Steve. “Sucky timing, huh?”

Eddie pulls a silly face, which doesn’t reach his pink eyes. Steve edges closer. Eddie shuffles back, looking genuinely spooked, which sends Steve’s mood into free-fall. 

He sits down heavily on Eddie’s empty beer-crate and nods at the Humvee. “You guys stole that baby?”

“Had to get around the roadblocks somehow,” says Hopper. “That rain churned up a ton of mud. It’s gonna slow them down, but it’s gonna slow us down too. We gotta move.”

“We? Why are we all going?” Steve hates this idea. Even more than he hates how he’s defaulting to surly teenager mode. He wonders—not for the first time though not for the billionth—if his actual parents have given him up for dead. “Don’t wanna seem ungrateful, Chief, but I really don’t feel like a road trip.” 

“O’Sullivan has torn Hawkins apart, searching for El. Next, he’s gonna have the army sweep this whole area. You won’t stand a chance.”

“Can’t we go back to those caves?” Steve mumbles toward his mud-flecked sneakers. 

“When they find you,” says Hopper, “best-case scenario—they hand Munson here over the police, or the cronies who count for it these days. Worst case-scenario? O’Sullivan keeps hold of him, as well as you.”

“Why the heck would some army guy be interested in me?”

He senses Hopper close in. “You signed the NDAs, Steve. They know YOU know about Eleven. They’ve interrogated Joyce and Jonathan, but there’s only so much they can do with people they can’t easily ‘disappear.’ If they think you’ve got intel as to her whereabouts… You get where I’m going with this?”

“So what?” Steve can’t look up. Like before, he can’t let Hopper see. “W-won’t be the first time I’ve been tortured.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry, kid. But tough talk ain’t gonna save you.”

“They kill people,” says Eleven. “I didn’t want to run, to leave Mike. To leave Max.” She sounds so very sad. “We had no choice.”

“I honestly don’t think we have much choice either, Steve,” says Robin, emerging from the cabin behind with the blankets. “Hop’s got more bottled water from Lover’s Lake in the truck. If you get sick or hurt, it could help.”

On being reminded of all that shit, Steve rubs his face, groans.

“We gonna talk about that now?” asks Eddie. “You know, the ginormous, soggy elephant spouting water out of its trunk? The one giving Steve buffed-to-the-max powers?”

“Powers?” Steve’s forced laugh comes out way too loud. “El can throw cars around with her mind, rip holes in dimensions. I can heal stuff. A bit. Then I pass out for half a day. It’s pointless.”

“Neeeewsflash,” sings Eddie. “You brought me back from the dead. Not pointless, I hope.”

Steve laughs again, totally hollow. What Eddie says feels fake, somehow. Was that even really him, or… Ugh, his head is too muddled.

“Using my powers tires me out too,” adds Eleven.

“Uh, hello? Can we please discuss the super-magical weather?” Having flung the bedding in the Humvee, Robin flings her arms toward the skies. “Twice, we were in danger. Twice, Steve rearranged the heavens to cover our sorry asses.”

Steve huffs: “Robin, I have no control over—"

“You have to learn control,” says Eleven.

“We can talk about this on the journey.” Hopper takes Steve by the elbow. He urges him to his feet, finally forcing Steve to slam him with a full-on glare. “C’mon, get in.”

Part 12

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 12 Part 13