#Wondering how much I can draw before I run out of steam

[lunameimei]

Just a dialogue from a fanfiction that I imagine in my head before going to bed

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

my girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother's friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

The curtains stir in the summer breeze, the smell of pollen wafting in and tickling your nose. You scrunch your face, resisting as sneeze and flip the page of the book, your eyes racing across the letters, devouring them. After another year of academia, you’re all too eager to spend your summer devouring your ‘to read’ list. 

The flick of pages marks the passage of time. You don’t sense how the sky sifts from a beaming yellow to a gentle blue. Not until the knock comes at the door and draws you from the world built of prose. You blink and lift your head, mark your page and leave it on your pillow. You push yourself across the low bed and yawn. Only as you don’t have words to read do you feel the fatigue in your eyes. 

“Peanut,” your mother calls you by the childhood nickname you can’t seem to shake, “gonna help with dinner?” 

You open the door to her and step out, “yeah, should do something.” 

“You should,” she chides playfully. “I already got the roast beef in, just need you to do sides.” 

“Great,” you shuffle down the hall behind her and rub your eyes. You don’t know if it’s allergies or reading that has you so dried out. 

Downstairs, you go into the kitchen and the aroma of the roast has your mouth watering already. In your delve into the land of fantasy, you may have forgotten to feed yourself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence; during the school year, you often studied until your head pounded and your stomach roared. The human body tends only to get in the way of the mind. 

You work at peeling potatoes as your mom takes out a medley of vegetables to put in a roasting pan. She seasons as you chop, the low murmur of her outdated music filling the hazy summer air. You can hear the children next door running around and the bristle of trees swaying in the wind. 

“Oh, make sure to throw in a few extra, pea,” she says as you go to curl over the top of the bag, “your brother’s bringing his friend.” 

“Friend? Johnny?” You wonder. 

“That man from his work, Syverson,” she corrects, “with the beard.” 

“Uh yeah, I remember.” 

You’ve met Syverson, or Sy as he prefers. Your brother, Isaac, started his apprenticeship last summer with the man down at the metal shop. There are vague instances in your mind when you recall the large bearded man sitting at the table across from you. He’s older than your brother, you too. Probably closer to your parent’s age. He doesn’t say much either but he’s polite. You think. 

You shrug and pull out some more potatoes to add to peel and cut. You do so quietly, your mind wandering back to your book even as the real world threatens to wipe it away. You’re so swept up in the fraught quest to reclaim a forgotten world that you can hardly focus on the blade. 

You blink as the knife hits the board, too close to your thumb. Pay attention. Often your mom comments that you look far away and just as often you are. Existing in this world can be so boring. Potatoes and roast beef. 

You rinse off the spuds and put them on to boil. You’ll mash them like you always do and add your mother’s ‘secret’ ingredient; herb and cheese sour cream. You’re pretty sure every mother on the block claims that as their little revolution. 

As the water starts to steam, you hear a car pull up and a louder engine behind it. Your mom checks the beef, letting out a gust of savoury air. You are starving. 

As you toss the peels in the bin, the front door opens. Isaac’s voice carries through the house as he chatters on about sparks and some work thing. Your mom’s head pops up as she waits eager for his appearance. 

He peeks into the kitchen as a pair of footsteps follow behind him. You mom greets him with a kiss, “hello, bubby, how was your day?” 

“Mom,” he scowls and wipes his cheek, “it was fine. Burnt myself pretty good.” 

He shows a bandage on his forearm and shrugs. Your mother gasp, “oh, honey!” 

“Told him to put his gauntlets on,” Syverson stands just beyond the doorway, his shadow looming like an evil orc in a cavern, waiting to pounce. You shake off the comparison as he comes into the light of the kitchen, a case of beer in hand. “Brought something for dinner,” he puts down the six-pack and shifts as you notice the red cap and label poking out from under his arm. He catches the bottle before it can slip and presents it to your mother, “and for the ladies.” 

“Oh, Syverson, you’re always so sweet.” 

“Mm, least I can do, y’all having me, feeding me,” he reaches to rub his neck. “Mind if I use the bathroom? Gotta wash my hands.” 

“Course, dear, you know where it is,” she preens. 

He leans on his back foot and his eyes glint in your direction. Despite his gruff exterior, his shaved head and thick beard, and his work-stained tee shirt, his eyes seem to sparkle, “evening,” he nods in your direction, as if he’s only just noticed you. 

“Hi,” you murmur and turn back to wash the starch from the cutting board. 

Having company is always awkward. You’re the only member of your family who isn’t very social. You have your classmates and a few friends you’ll hang out with on occasion but your parents and your brother always seem to have someone with them. If it isn’t one of your mom’s HOA accomplices, it’s one of your dad’s neighbourhood buddies arguing over the barbecue. 

You continue to tidy up as you wait for the food to be ready. You take out some plates and cutlery, wanting to distract yourself by setting the table. You stack the plates and the utensil slides around on top as you carry them into the hallway. You have to stop short as you nearly collide with Sy.  

“Sorry,” he apologises and backs up, “need help?” 

He points to your armful and you smile and shake your head, “all good.” 

“Don’t mind,” he says as he puts his large hands around the stack of plates. They’re pretty thick and heavy on their own but he takes them from you easily. 

“Um, right, then I’ll get... cups.” 

You turn back and flit into the kitchen. Your mom hums as she strains the potatoes. She doesn’t notice you counting glasses from the cupboard and balancing them all in your arms. You go down the hall, this time without obstacle, and into the dining room. You angle awkwardly to put down all the glasses at once.  

Sy lays out the plates and cutlery one at a time, certain to have each perfectly centered and straight. He focuses on the task intently. The sight of his earnest effort contrasted by his burly figure is almost silly. You plunk down the glasses at the corner of each plate, staying on the other side of the table from him. 

“Your back from school,” he says as he finishes, stepping back to cross his arms, making himself even larger. Most people are big compared to you. 

“Mhmm,” you nod with a rigid tight-lipped grin. 

“You graduate?” He asks. 

You try not to show your surprise. You’re not sure you’ve ever had a conversation with him. It’s just nods and grunts sent in your direction. Just acknowledgement. Just courtesy. 

“One more year,” you say, “erm, I’ll go help mom.” 

“Right,” he drops his arms and grips the back of the chair in front of him, “don’t let me keep ya.” 

You inch backwards and spin around, trying not to run away. It isn’t him. It’s you. It’s easier to read dialogue on a page and pretend it’s coming from your lips than it is to hold a conversation in real life. You would rather go back and finish your chapter then sit at the table and eat with your family, especially now that you’ve made it awkward. 

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (6/10)

Part Summary: It's three months after the attack on the compound and you lost your invincibility against bullets.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Still UST, Still gay

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Next Part | Series Masterlist

-

The sound of the doorbell at “Café Lumière” reverberates around the room, your heart reacting before your head can even register it. It's the softest of sounds, but it pulls you like a siren's song. Every fiber of your being is acutely aware of that door, with both trepidation and hope hinging on its every swing.

Steam curls up from the frothing milk, whispering past your fingertips as they work on a delicate latte art. Your focus is unwavering, yet as the door chimes again, your heart skips. You risk a glance, your hope suspended for that split second, only to crash back down when it's not her.

Louisa's eyes, which have been watching you mischievously for some time now, find yours. 

“Clock's ticking,” she teases, nodding toward the ornate clock hanging precariously on the wall. “Not 3pm yet.”

You feign confusion, but your playful smirk gives you away. “What are you going on about?”

She grins knowingly. “Your weekly muse isn't due for another... oh, ten minutes or so?”

An exaggerated sigh escapes your lips, the warm notes of roasted beans surrounding you like a comforting embrace. 

“I'm not waiting for her, you know,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction.

Louisa smirks and pats your shoulder, “Sure, sure. Just give it time. She's never missed a Thursday, has she?”

As you're about to come up with a clever retort, a sharp sting on your finger draws your attention. You wince, looking down to see a thin, red line forming across your finger. Tearing the receipt from the register to hand to the awaiting customer, you’re slightly taken aback at how much the cut bleeds.

“Everything alright?” the customer asks, noticing the blood.

"Yeah, just a small paper cut," you dismiss, trying to downplay it. Grabbing a napkin, you press it against the cut, soaking up the crimson liquid.

Louisa's sharp eyes don't miss a beat. "Careful there. Those can be nasty," she comments, retrieving the first-aid kit from under the counter.

Louisa holds out a bandage, but you shake your head, not wanting to make a fuss over something so minor. “Really, I'm good,” you assure her.

A few seconds later, you open the napkin to check the cut. To your surprise, the skin seems perfectly whole, as if it had never been broken in the first place. You flex your finger, the earlier sting now a distant memory. “See? I'm fine,” you declare, shrugging.

Louisa tilts her head, narrowing her eyes in astonishment. “That healed incredibly fast. You sure you're okay?”

You chuckle, deciding to make light of the situation. “What can I say? Maybe I have superpowers.”

A soft clearing of the throat interrupts the moment. The customer, who you hadn't realized was keenly observing the entire exchange, raises an eyebrow. “Can I get some napkins, please?”

Flustered, you quickly hand a bunch over. “Of course, sorry about that.”

Louisa grins at you mischievously as the customer leaves, “Superpowers, huh? That's a new one.”

The doorbell rings out, pulling your attention instantly. You lift your gaze, hope surging momentarily, only to see the same customer making her way out. The door gently shuts behind them, the anticipation that had built up inside you deflating.

Louisa, noticing the brief flicker of disappointment in your eyes, nudges you playfully. “Don't look so down,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “She’ll be here. You know how punctual she is. Maybe she's just running a bit late today.”

You give a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I wonder though why she never gives her name,” Louisa muses.

“Hm?”

“You know, for the cup,” she clarifies.

You shrug. “Some people love their privacy, I guess.”

Hours seem to stretch endlessly, the weight of the clock's hands growing heavier with each passing minute. The crowd in the café starts to thin as evening nears. Although the store is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, your shift only lasts until 8. And in the midst of the dwindling crowd, one spot remains unclaimed—the corner seat by the window, the one she always chooses. 

She is the sole reason you continue working here despite your persistent restlessness. Pouring coffee for hundreds of customers daily never truly satisfies you, even when some tip generously. There's an inexplicable nagging feeling, suggesting this isn't where you belong or what you should be doing.

Yet, what anchors you between the register and the espresso machine is the girl who comes in every Thursday, late in the afternoon, always punctually, sometimes a few minutes early. It's disconcerting and exhilarating, this sudden shift of your universe tilting on its axis. You've never been one to believe in love at first sight or fated connections, but there’s something in the way she holds herself, something in her gaze that tugs at strings you didn’t even know existed.

But even if you can write the sweetest song or the most evocative poem about every titillating thing about her, it’s just a crush.

A crush that will lead to nothing. Not because you've attempted to ask her out or because she's already spoken for.

It's because your very existence is shrouded in uncertainty.

The past few months have been a jumble of rehab appointments, therapy sessions, and sleepless nights trying to piece together fragments of memories that always seem just out of reach. Surviving that near-fatal crash was a miracle in itself, but the loss of your past—it took away a part of who you were. Or who you're supposed to be.

Every day, you grapple with an identity you don’t recognize, yearning for some semblance of the person you once were. A glance at the reflection in the coffee machine shows a face still unfamiliar. Eyes that hold stories you can’t read, a curve of a smile that feels out of place. When people share anecdotes from their past or talk about family and childhood, all you can offer is a nod, a practiced smile, and a tightness in your chest that never truly fades.

And how could you possibly burden her with this emptiness?

The small apartment you return to every evening, given by a private charity, is filled with borrowed things and a life that doesn't truly feel like yours. They said you had no family, no one waiting or weeping for your recovery. Your recovery was overseen by faceless benefactors who, for some reason, deemed you worthy of a second chance. Yet, every evening as you unlock your door, you wonder if you truly deserved it.

The beautiful woman who steps into the coffee shop every Thursday, with her air of confidence and those captivating eyes, deserves more than what you currently are. More than this fractured self, teetering on the edge of self-discovery and despair.

What could you possibly offer her? Nights filled with stories of... nothingness? Days shadowed by the fear of not knowing who stares back at you in the mirror? She deserves someone who is rooted in memories, with stories to tell. Not this fragmented existence you live. 

Perhaps it's safer this way, to admire her from a distance, to let her remain this source of hope and inspiration. A lighthouse guiding you through the stormiest nights. If you ever manage to find yourself again, then maybe, you'd take that chance. 

Glancing at the clock again, it's 7:45 PM. Still no sign of her.

Dejectedly, you remove your apron and prepare to leave.

-

Wanda Maximoff blends into the bustling streets, the hood of her jacket pulled low over her face and her boots echoing a muffled cadence on the pavement. Dressed in tight denim and a nondescript hooded jacket, she hardly resembled one of the most powerful Avengers.

She mumbles a silent curse under her breath, glancing at her watch. She's late—later than she's ever been—and she hates it. Thursdays at the cafe are her only remaining connection to you. 

She can see the cafe now, its warm light spilling out onto the street. She pushes the door and her eyes immediately scan the room, searching for that familiar face behind the counter. The disguise continues to work; to everyone, she’s just another customer. She doesn't draw the same attention here as she does in New York. 

It’s North Carolina after all, and the town they put you in cares more about art than superheroes.

Louisa's attempt at nonchalance is commendable but slightly betrayed by the quick tightening of her lips and the slight flutter in her eyes. “Good evening,” she begins, voice as steady as she can manage. “Can I get you the usual today?”

Wanda's gaze, sharp and unyielding, remains locked on Louisa's face. “Where's Y/N?” she asks tersely.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't share information about our staff's schedules.”

She pauses, letting the words settle before adding, “If you're looking to see Y/N, perhaps you can drop by tomorrow between 2 pm and 8 pm.”

“Oh,” Wanda mutters softly. 

Vision, in his human disguise, comes up behind her.  “Wanda, we should go,” he murmurs, attempting discretion, but Louisa catches his words nonetheless.

Wanda hesitates, her posture rigid. “I needed to see them, Vis,” her voice is laced with a quiet desperation, a yearning for something—or someone—lost.

“I know,” he replies softly. “But they aren’t here. And we can always go back tomorrow.”

“I just have a feeling,” Wanda says. “Maybe this time, they’ll—”

“You’ve had that feeling for weeks now, but nothing has changed.” 

They've lowered their voices to whispers, forcing Louisa to strain her ears to catch the exchange between the two. Vision soon catches on to Louisa's subtle eavesdropping. Their conversation abruptly stops, and Wanda, a bit lost, looks up at him for an explanation. Vision subtly nods toward Louisa, signaling her presence.

Clearing his throat, Vision steps forward, deciding to divert attention. “A hibiscus tea, please,” he says.

Louisa, embarrassed at being indirectly called out, fumbles slightly before regaining her composure. “Of course. Name for the cup?”

“Victor,” Vision replies smoothly. With a nod, Louisa gets to work, while Vision takes a few steps to the side with Wanda, resuming their conversation in even lower tones. 

Louisa sneaks occasional glances while pretending to be engrossed in her work. The two stand slightly apart, their conversation seeming both intimate and tense. Wanda's fingers fidget, wringing her hands, her lips moving quickly. Vision responds with a calming gesture, fingers grazing her forearm.

The steamer hisses as Louisa finishes the hibiscus tea, her curiosity deepening.

Setting the cup on the counter, she clears her throat. “Order for Victor!”

No reaction.

With a little more force, she calls again, “Hibiscus tea for Victor!”

Again, no response.

The cafe grows impatient, a soft buzz of conversation fills the air, and a few customers shoot curious glances at the duo.

“Victor!” Louisa exclaims, this time with a touch of impatience.

At this, Vision finally turns, the gentle hum of their conversation breaking. He approaches the counter, his blue eyes apologetic. “I'm sorry,” he says, taking the cup from her hands. “Thank you, Louisa.”

Louisa simply nods, her gaze flitting between the pair. As they head towards the exit, she can't help but wonder about the nature of their relationship with you and what has them so concerned.

-

Three months ago

“You can’t do this to them.”

Wanda's voice crackles with anger and a hint of desperation, her collected demeanor fraying at the edges. The holographic projections of the globe, pinpointing potential locations and glimpses of Y/N's impending new life, bathe Wanda's face in a cold blue light, each flicker taunting her with the reality of your imminent departure.

Flashbacks flicker behind Wanda's eyes, pulling her into that harrowing moment. She feels you in her arms again, your life seeping away between her fingers. She's surrounded by dust-covered streets, crumbling buildings, and the deafening silence after the explosion. Your blood, vibrant and so, so red, pooling at the ground beneath you, staining Wanda’s shoes. She's paralyzed, every second stretching into an eternity, every breath a labor.

She was so slow, so clouded by fear. Why didn't she act faster? Why didn't she see the signs? Could she have saved you?

It was Steve's voice that brought her back to reality. “Wanda! We need to move!” She barely registered the panic in his voice, the way he swiftly and gently took you from her, laying you on a makeshift stretcher.

Every moment after that feels like an agonizing irony to Wanda. She knows grief and loss intimately, but this... this is an entirely different kind of pain. The trauma of watching you battle death is only overshadowed by the realization that while you might physically be here, mentally, the person who risked their life for her twice has disappeared.

In the quiet spaces of her heart, she acknowledges a truth she's been running from: she's spent so long building walls, so long pushing away the vulnerability that came with connecting deeply with someone, out of fear. Fear of loss, of pain, of being too raw and open. With you, those walls had started to crumble, brick by brick, but not fast enough.

She wishes she could go back, to relive those moments with the knowledge she has now. 

“You can't do this to them,” she murmurs again, the words more for herself than anyone else.

Steve stands across from her, hands on the table, his posture rigid yet his face betraying a deep sadness. “Wanda, it's not about what I want or what you want. It's protocol.”

Wanda's face contorts with anger, her voice rising, “Protocol? Y/N isn't some object to be managed! They have rights, feelings, memories—”

“Which they don't even remember!” Steve interjects, his rarely-seen frustration surfacing on this particular occasion.

“You can’t just... toss them into the world like they're yesterday's news, Steve,” Wanda hisses with barely-contained anger. They remain the lone figures in the meeting room after the team unanimously voted to craft a new identity for you, placing you in a secluded town, untouched by global news, let alone the cosmic battles waged galaxies away.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wanda, it’s not about 'disposing' anyone. The protocol is clear. If a super loses their powers, they reintegrate. Y/N can't live in the compound because they no longer belong in this world of chaos and danger.”

“Because they're powerless?” Wanda’s eyes blaze. “Or because they're no longer of any use to the cause?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve says, stepping closer to Wanda and meeting her gaze. “Y/N has lost their memory, they don’t remember any of this—any of us. Keeping them here would only confuse and possibly hurt them.”

“They just sacrificed everything for me. And now you want to push them aside because it's convenient?”

“No,” Steve replies, “Because they’ve done enough. They’ve given enough. Don’t you think they’ve earned the right to a peaceful life? The privilege of normalcy?”

Her green eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “All I’m saying, Steve, is that they should have the choice. And right now, we’re taking that away from them.”

-

“Your girlfriend showed up last night.”

You whip your head around to look at Louisa so quickly, it feels like you might've given yourself whiplash.

“Come again?”

Louisa grins, tying her apron around her waist with a knowing smirk. “You heard me. Your Thursday regular? Gorgeous, and those piercing green eyes? She came by looking for you after you left.”

Your eyes widen, heart racing. “That doesn’t mean she’s my... girlfriend.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Louisa teases, leaning in closer. “She seemed pretty keen on finding you. Even asked for you by name. Speaking of which... guess who found out her name?”

Your mouth opens in surprise. “Y-You did?”

Louisa nods, a smirk on her lips. “Wanda. Her name’s Wanda.”

“Wanda,” you repeat, savoring the name as it slips from your lips.

Putting a name to such an unforgettable face changes everything. But like so many things that have recently unfolded, you just don’t know the significance of it yet.

[misty--nights]

Episode 7 is another favorite. Also had to do another pause on the rewatch because it's been hard to focus on watching things. But, I'm back again and almost done so it's all good.

Honestly, the disheveled and covered in dirt look is really working for Esther. And then that plus the blood after she kills the Cat King? Damn

Do we know how the Cat King knows about Edwin’s time in hell? I feel like I’m missing something here, but I don’t remember how he finds out about it to tell Esther. My best guess is that one of the cats he sent to spy on the kids overheard something about it, but I’m not sure. I may be misremembering

The lightbulb in the closet scene starts going slower as Crystal and Charles begin talking quietly. I know it’s just losing momentum and probably not on purpose, but it does make a nice parallel to the way they lose steam in their discussion

Speaking of the closet scene, I think it’s hilarious that Crystal leaves it with a coat in hand. I can just imagine her angrily taking one down before storming out and Charles just awkwardly standing there until she opens the door. Hilarious image

The Night Nurse’s face at the beginning of the flashback seems all smug to me, like she really believes she won’t find a thing that could make her change her mind

Edwin actually does voices for the characters as he reads to Charles, he’s so precious. And his giggle as he finishes reading kills me. Do you think this is the first time after returning to hell that he’s gotten to be just a boy? To laugh and enjoy something after all the torment?

Maxine has a bunch of paper by her side on the stairs, and later we see her ripping some paper up when the boys are running towards the exit. Do you think those are her letters to Jenny / potentially other women she stalked if the head canon that she’s done that before is true?

Maybe it’s because the Doll House is super dark, but I actually never noticed that the thing that startles Edwin when he’s looking in the mirror is Despair’s face appearing out of nowhere

“I do not have my book” Do you think he freaked out when he realized he’d been taken without his notebook? That the one thing that could get him out of there had been left behind? Do you think he panicked about how long it would take him to find the way out this time?

Jenny sees David magically turn on the lights and basically teleport to Crystal’s side, and she still goes to try and get him to back up

Never noticed just how creepy the drawings for Esther's pain device are

The head of Esther's cane is a bird skull, so she and Monty both have that bird skull theming, which is find

You can hear Edwin's screams down the hall after the doll spider thing gets him again

I love that Charles not only packed a bomb and a molotov, he also packed them lit. Very efficient of him, though I do have to wonder if part of the bag's power is to keep things somewhat frozen in time so that the bombs don't explode in there

Also on the bomb scene, though, Edwin looks so baffled that Charles would throw a bomb at the doll spider demon

One of the people in the lust room is wearing socks and the idea of having socks drenched in blood is giving me sensory nightmares. 0/10 do not recommend. This point was originally going to be about the fact that poor Edwin has to go through lust barefoot, but I think that the socks are worse

The way Edwin screams for Charles when the lust people grab him feels really raw, but also like it's an instinct

God, Edwin's little smile after Charles says they have forever to figure it out kills me. There's so much relief and care in that smile and I just can't with it

[ahomeganeyatsu]

Dan Heng x Caelus

Inspired by one of their text exchanges.

< />

He’s falling.

Dan Heng feels his breath catch before he realizes he’s running.

I won’t make it.

I won’t make it.

I won’t make it.

He doesn’t know where he finds the strength. He’s leaping, the wind carrying him further than he would have thought and reaches out.

He catches Caelus and holds on.

They land with a harsh thud. The wind dispels and the smoke clears. His hands are warm. Too warm in this frozen death of a planet.

“Dan Heng?” Gold eyes meet dark blues. He places a hand on that cheek. There’s a cut there, sluggishly bleeding and his thumb wipes it away.

“Don’t talk. Just… hang in there.” There’s a thunderous clap as he hears the titanic mechanism start to move. He wonders if Himeko could get in another shot. He doesn’t know how they’ll get out of this. They’ve dealt with stellarons before, but nothing quite like this.

“Dan Heng.” The gold’s starting to dull and there’s something cracking inside of Dan Heng.

“No. Stop it. Don’t push yourself. We’ll—” he chokes, he’s soaking in the warmth. It’s pooling beneath them and Dan Heng feels like drowning. “You’ll be fine. Just hang in there, Caelus.”

It’s a lie. Caelus knows this. Dan Heng knows this.

There’s so much red surrounding them. It’s stark against the snow. A flower blooming into a grotesque beauty. There’s no fixing this.

The world around them crashes and Dan Heng sits there with Caelus in his arms.

“Dan Heng!”

He jolts awake. The world is blurry and his mind tries to catch up with what’s happened. It takes time for his vision to focus and realizes he’s in the Astral Express’s archives. He’s in his room and he’s buried under files. It takes another second to realize he had been dreaming.

“Dan Heng, I’m coming in.”

“Wha— Wait, don’t!” Too late. With a whoosh the door opens, revealing Caelus. He’s only in his tank top and a pair of sweats that are riding low on his hips. His feet are bare. His hair is a little tousled. He had obviously been sleeping himself, but for some reason he’s here.

His eyes take in the mess and the concern in his eyes warm clear alive doubles. “Are you okay?” he asks as he makes his way towards him.

“I am. You didn’t have to check up on me. I was just sorting some records.”

Caelus hums as he takes some of them off of him and places them to the side. “I can see that,” he says. In his motion, one of the straps slides off his shoulders and Dan Heng catches sight of the discoloration.

“It doesn’t hurt,” the other tells him and it dawns on him that he had actually moved his hand to touch it. Caelus places his own hand on top of Dan Heng’s. He presses it closer and there’s the thud-thud-thud of a steadily beating heart.

Caelus' skin is warm against his fingertips.

He remembers seeing the scar the first time. The steam in the bath obscured most of it but that didn't cover how large the scar had been. Like starburst painted on Caelus' front and back.

“I’m okay,” the soft smile on Caelus’ lips draws him back into the present. Guiding him away from the dark hallways his thoughts tend to wander.

Liar, he wants to say, but swallows it down.

“Now,” he starts and pulls Dan Heng to his feet. “You should really stop staying up so late.” He tugs him to where his futon lies. It’s messy and still surrounded by books but Caelus says nothing about it. He clears a spot for himself and gets comfortable. Dan Heng just watches him. When he makes no move, Caelus shoots him a look. He pointedly pats the space next to him.

Sighing, Dan Heng starts toeing off his shoes. He takes off his coat and carefully folds it.

Caelus lets out a pleased sound and settles onto the futon. It’s a tight fit even if Pom-pom had changed it out once he’d learned Caelus sleeps in here sometimes.

He doesn't miss the irony of the situation. Not when he'd been adamant about reminding Caelus. And how everyone else had said one thing or another about how territorial he gets about the archives.

(There's a running joke about dragons and their hoards but Dan Heng pays no mind to it.)

He settles into sleep. When he's lying down, Caelus turns to his side facing him.

“Hi,” he greets him, a sleepy smile etched on the corner of his lips.

“Hi,” Dan Heng finds himself greeting back. For whatever reason, this makes Caelus giggle. He muffles it against Dan Heng’s pillow, but this close, Dan Heng hears it clearly. He wants to bottle it up. He huffs instead, and flicks the other’s forehead. “Sleep.”

Caelus scrunches his nose. “I should be the one telling you that,” his words taper off into a yawn, softening his grousing. He stares at Dan Heng, eyes slowly blinking until they finally close. “Night, Dan Heng.”

It doesn’t take long for Caelus to fall asleep.

It doesn’t take long for Dan Heng to follow.

If Caelus feels Dan Heng pull him close, he doesn’t say anything. If he feels a hand tracing the scar burnt on him, he holds it. And if Dan Heng wakes up with Caelus’ face tucked into his neck, chests flush against each other, their hearts beating in tandem, he counts their breaths and holds on to the moment.

[locketsvault]

「 BIRTHDAY DINNER WITH AYATO 」

pairing: ayato kirishima x male reader

tags: male reader reader, established relationship, first person, amab terms used, smut

warnings: sexual content, descriptions of sexual acts

request: hai pookie :3 Its my birthday today, and this is my first time requesting for anything on here, but can you write an ayato and his male s/o doing the deed (ahem...) and him cooking for his s/o on his bday?? Preferably hcs but whatever makes you comfortable <3. (original request found here.)

word count: 838

a/n: I wanted soooo badly to write this the second I got the request, except I got it while suffer by a nasty viral infection and my eyes could barely stay open, I’m so sorry.

It’s surprising just how well this man is at cooking human food. Even he was shocked and kind freaked out. I’m not kidding either, he’s a wonderful cook. And eventually it grows on him as a love language for you.

Which is how your birthday started off simple, yet quite wholesome.

Your apartment was set up for the night, pillows and blankets decorating the couch so you can snuggle and watch him cook. He knew you loved watching, and who could blame you.

Also, screw eating at the dining room table today, he totally brought you your food to eat on the couch. He could care less about manners lmao.

Also also, somehow you managed to talk him into being comfortable enough to eat with you. Ayato is not one to care about freaking humans out or not when eating yk, people, but you’re different. He doesn’t want to scare you off. Yet you’re comfortable with it, and you always reassure him.

You put on a random movie to have on in the background as you both sat on the couch and ate the amazing food.

I should also probably point out there Ayato is not one for extravagance. If others are than fine, but he isn’t. So your apartment is going to be decorated with cute happy birthday signs and balloons. He believes that of service and quality time is all you need. And he isn’t entirely wrong… he just missed one thing.

Somehow during dinner time both of your plates ended up on the coffee table, you in his lap, and him having a burning hard on in less than five minutes. I would say oopsies but was it really?

It didn’t take long for him at all to flip you over on the couch and go down on you. You wanted sex? That’s fine, but since it’s a special day you’re getting extra taken care of. You poor thing.

He started off by sucking you off, which side note, getting a blowjob by this man is heavenly. So I think I’ve said this before, but he runs hot. And that includes his mouth. It’s not scalding hot, but it is hot enough for stimulation. And he knows how to use his mouth. He knows exactly how to pleasure you in the ways that make you curl and scream his name.

Once you’ve came from him giving you a blowjob he swallows by the way he will then work on opening you up for him. Not at the same time, he’s dragging this out and worshiping your body.

This boy… he snickers and smirks at your whines and complaints. He feeds off of it. Genuinely. But he makes up for it by making sure you feel amazing.

As I established before, no condoms. He sees them useless. Oh and, simple missionary because he wants to see your face while also doing all the work and having you under him.

He’s the kind of guy to brace both of his forearms next to your head while connecting your foreheads. And yes, he’s locking eyes with you the entire time, especially when he pushes in the first time.

There’s definitely been times where you’ve had angry sex or just been rough to let off steam, but this is not it, and he wants to make it clear. He’s grateful you were born and that he has you.

He starts off with slow deep thrusts, wanting to feel every inch of you and vice versa. He’ll kiss you a bit rough but still tenderly. You probably feel like you’re going insane by how much he’s drawing it out.

He picks up the pace eventually though, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Another thing he loves about you, how flexible you’ve become for moments like this. He likes the greedily believe it was all for him.

Now here’s the extra fun part. Ghoul stamina. He can go many rounds and he can keep himself from cumming as quick. You’ll most likely have two more orgasms before he even allows himself one. And he can keep going after that.

His cum btw, is also hot. You can feel it filling you up. Oh, and no, he does not pull out after, especially if you’re going more rounds. He loves filling you up before inevitably watching it leak out of you.

Sex with Ayato is always amazing, but your birthday was probably the best you’ve had since your first time with him. He did everything he could to take care of you. That includes sex all night. You probably got about two hours of sleep? He’s not sorry.

I want to be sappy real fast though, he was probably whispering I love yous and praises on what he loves about you and what you do to him in your ear as your crying out. And considering how much this man can be emotionally constipated, that’s a big deal for him. And it was his birthday gift to you, his love.

[specialagentlokitty]

Loki x reader - it’s okay to not be okay

loki x reader angst where maybe reader snaps at him after being stressed and he just does not care cause he understands why reader snapped and he comforts reader - Anon💜

You didn’t want to have anything to do with anything or anyone, you wanted to get in, have a bath and crawl straight into bed.

When you stopped at your floor, you realised that wasn’t the case because you found Loki walking back towards the elevator.

“Love, I was just returning some books. Want to watch something?” He smiled.

“I’m not in the mood loki…” you grumbled.

Loki frowned and followed you to your bedroom, watching as you tossed your stuff cross the room and started to rummage through your draws.

“(Y/N)?” He asked softly.

You didn’t reply, you simply went to the bathroom and started to run a bath, grabbing some fresh towels.

You set them by the sink and started to wonder around back and forth from your room to the bathroom.

“(Y/N) what’s wrong my dear?”

“Loki please just leave.”

“No, not until you talk to me. It’ll really help.”

You turned around to Loki and pushed him from the bathroom.

“Get out Loki! Just go! I don’t want to talk to you okay?! I don’t even want to look at you right now!” You snapped.

Loki blinked but he raised his hands slowly backing towards the door.

“Alright love, if you need anything just call.”

With that, he offered you a smile, and softly closed the bathroom door.

Once your bath was ready you sank into it, letting the hot water relax your muscles and wash away the stress you were feeling.

The steam helped you clear your head, and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Sinking a little further down, you kept your eyes closed for a moment before opening them, gazing at the wall.

You heard Loki walk past and guilt stared washing up over you.

You could hear him doing something, maybe cleaning, maybe just wondering like he usually did when you were busy.

Whatever it was he was doing you were still feeling guilty for snapping at him.

Finally you got out of the bathroom, got dried and changed and made you way back into the bedroom to put your towels in the wash basket.

Turning around, you found your favourite blanket neatly folded on the bed.

Walking over you placed your hand on it, feeling how warm it was you smiled a little and wrapped it around your shoulders.

Walking out of the bedroom you started to wonder the floor to find Loki, and you found him standing in the kitchen by the stove.

Walking over, you placed your forehead on his back.

“Spaghetti or rice?” He asked.

“Rice.”

He hummed and reaching behind him, he grabbed your hands and wrapped them around his waist before he carried on cooking.

“Loki I’m so sorry…” you whispered.

Loki turned around picking you up he set you on the table behind you and placed a finger under your chin, tilting your face up towards him.

“You don’t have to apologise.” He smiled softly.

“I.. I do… I snapped at you…”

Loki chuckled a little bit and kissed the corner of your mouth.

“You had a hard day, we all have hard days sometimes my love, there is nothing wrong with having hard days. I know you never meant it.”

Loki placed his hand on the side of your face, kissing your forehead, cheek then a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Now, stop worrying, and come help me cook. There’s only so much I can do and I have no clue how to make rice.”

You laughed a little, pushing him away to jump from the table and grab the rice to start preparing it.

Loki watched you with a small smile on his face, it was okay to have bad days, and he was going to keep reminding you of that

[izamationbroker]

My current job is pretty laidback about us having phones out and listening to music as we work sorting archaeological artifacts in a lab, so I've started binge-rewatching Durarara!! from the very beginning.

I've already finished the original run yesterday and just started x2 Shou, but some thoughts I had:

At least in the anime adaptation, the original run was meant to be pretty self-contained in the event they weren't able to continue (which to be fair was true for quite a while before x2 got greenlit), so rather than consider the original run a "phase one" of Izaya's grander scheme to start a gang war and awaken Celty's head it makes a bit more sense to think of it in the context of a failed first attempt.

In that context, it makes me wonder how he felt about it, his first grand failure. Grand enough that he felt the need to step back and lay low so he could go back to the drawing board (see: his initial conversation with Shizuo in ep 25).

I honestly bet he picked a fight with Shizuo just to take out his frustrations on it all. He managed to create a messy three-way conflict and get Celty roped into it as Anri and Mikado's friend, but the head gave narry a stir. Not to mention, Celty was able to help them resolve things pretty easily by just getting these dumb kids to actually talk to each other.

I don't remember the episode number because I just binged the whole thing, but Shingen at one point suggests that rather than rope Celty into a conflict, Izaya should try to center the conflict around Celty herself. Izaya claimed he was doing just that, but I don't think he really succeeded in the initial run. Sure, Celty was involved, but more as an independent third (fourth?) party than as a focal point. She was in the Dollars and friends with both Anri and Mikado, but she didn't really have much of a stake in the squabble itself. That was just a big messy of miscommunication between three high schoolers completely unrelated to her. That must have been frustrating, honestly, getting so close but falling just short of what he needed.

Then, on top of everything else, he wasn't even really involved in the resolution of the fight itself, either. He says in his theory that he needs to create a war only HE can win, right? I'd imagine that's why he was fucking around with a bunch of kids rather than the bigger leagues like the Yakuza that he works with regularly: it's a lot easier to insert yourself as an authority as the only adult. He'd be able to take control of that situation so easily, but Celty took that role instead, so he never even got a chance to win the war.

And to blow off steam from his initial failure, what does he do? He deliberately picks a fight with Shizuo, someone he generally tries to avoid when he can help it, by fucking with his brother's safety.

I wonder if he needed to feel alive for a minute by reminding himself of the loom of death. Shizuo's arguably the only one that actually threatens Izaya enough to feel any sense of awe or dread. I wonder if he wanted to put himself in that position to remind himself what was at stake and give him the motivation to go back to the drawing board and try again. He really does have a Shizuo Complex in that sense.

Anyway, I might do Shou, Ten, and Ketsu individually as I finish them, but if anyone would prefer a liveblog instead, lmk. I might stop at Shou for now, tho, because Wa-kun and I are I thiiiink like halfway through Ten? And I don't wanna spoil them with my rambling.

[bari-the-witch]

For @steddiemas Day 4: Questionable Holiday Movies & Winter Songs

(I only chose a song, I hope that's okay. Didn't know if I had to do both in one fic. Lmao)

Song: Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood

Rating: T (sex is only implied tho, but I don't take any chances)

So let me hold both your hands (in the holes of my sweater)

Laughing, they stumbled through the door into the house, out of the cold that crept under their clothes and touched every bit of skin with icy fingers.

He and Eddie had just returned from a Christmas party at the Byers-Hoppers and were now looking forward to a little bit of alone time. Not that they didn't enjoy celebrating with their friends, quite the opposite. With Nancy and Robin having moved to Indianapolis and Jonathan having started university on the other side of the States, it was nice to see everyone coming back together.

But he still wanted some alone time with his boyfriend. Sue him.

That was until he felt icy cold hands sliding under his sweater, eliciting a surprised gasp from him followed by a hiss through gritted teeth.

"Ah, much better!" Eddie said with a broad grin, pressing his palms against Steve's stomach, soaking up his warmth like a heat vampire. Goosebumps broke out on his skin.

"Glad I could help," Steve replied drily.

Eddie's hands felt like death, even though it had taken them less than a minute to get from the car to the front door. Nevertheless, Steve made no move to push him away, enjoying the fingertips now sliding across his skin up his chest far too much to complain.  

"What do you say," Eddie began, his voice low and seductive," if we go upstairs now and you warm me up a little?" Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Steve's. "Just look how cold my poor poor hands are."

Eddie's fingers continued their way upwards, skimming suggestively over Steve’s nipples, already hardened from his cold touch. Instead of answering, Steve only kissed him before pulling him upstairs happily following Eddie's suggestion.

--

A mind-blowing orgasm later, the two of them lay tightly wrapped around each other in Steve's bed.

"Want some tea?" Eddie suddenly asked, lazily drawing circles on Steve's arm with his finger, following an invisible path.

The question made Steve smile. It was funny how, as soon as it got cold outside, Eddie was practically glued to a steaming mug of tea all day and rarely seen without it. Even now, minutes after he had screwed Steve's brains out.

"If you don't mind," Steve replied. "I can go downstairs if you want, though."

"As much as I'd enjoy seeing you naked from behind. Again," Eddie grinned meaningfully at him, "you stay up here and let me do it."

Then he scrambled up from the bed, pulled out some various clothes from Steves drawer and put them on before heading downstairs.

While Eddie was in the kitchen, Steve was left alone in bed, quickly becoming lost in his own thoughts. In moments like these, he sometimes wondered how he could have been so blind for so long. How he could have run away from what he would never give up under any circumstances now.

And he didn't just mean the fantastic sex that made him question everything that happened before, because holy shit, but also everything else that came with the package that was Eddie Munson. Day after day since they had started dating six months ago.

Nonsense, it had been quite a while before that. Steve just hadn't wanted to admit it to himself.

But then it had just happened. And he could never imagine it any other way now.

When Eddie still hadn't returned after twenty minutes, Steve decided to get up and see where he was. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been distracted by what should have been a mundane activity and forgotten everything around him. With a smile, Steve thought about the time he had caught Eddie meticulously sorting through his tapes, world completely forgotten around him, even though he had only wanted to grab one for their trip to Indy.

Before he went downstairs though, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from the floor, not caring if it was Eddie's or his. Their wardrobe had long mixed anyway.

There was no sign of Eddie in the kitchen. Only the two steaming teacups on the counter indicated that he had been there at all.

In the living room, Steve finally found him.

Eddie had his back turned to him, looking through the sliding glass door that led out to the back porch. Following his gaze, Steve could see what had grabbed his attention.

Thick, soft flakes were falling from the sky, covering the landscape like a white fluffy blanket. It had already snowed several times in the last few days, winter had long since descended on Hawkins, but today, on the eve of Christmas, it felt even more special.

Eddie had noticed his presence because he turned his head slightly into Steve's direction and gave him a gentle smile before glancing back outside.

Another thing Steve had learned about Eddie in the last few days: he loved snow. Loved watching the flakes dance as they glided through the air towards the ground. They would probably spend the whole day outside with the others tomorrow after they had unwrapped their presents in the morning.

Steve was already looking forward to it.

Slowly, he walked over to Eddie, wrapping his arms around his stomach from behind and pressing himself against his boyfriends back.

Only then did he realize what Eddie was actually wearing.

Steve had believed that he had long since discarded the old thing. When he had asked Eddie once why he was wearing that particular sweater, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I just like it," he had simply replied.

Then the sweater disappeared for a while until it had obviously reappeared from the furthest corner of Steve's closet.

It was completely washed out by now, the once green color only a pale memory and the sleeves were so baggy that they stretched out quite a bit over Eddie's fingers.

"I'll never get rid of this thing, will I?" Steve asked with a smile, tugging at the faded fabric with his hand.

"Never. Sorry, but I think you're stuck with it for life, sweetheart."

And somehow Steve knew Eddie wasn’t only talking about the sweater. That his words had a far deeper meaning to them.

„I love you,“ he whispered into Eddie’s ear, enjoying the shiver it caused to run down the others spine.

“I love you, too,” Eddie said back, turning his head a little to press a kiss on Steve’s lips. “So much.”

Then, following a sudden urge, Steve put his hands through the sleeves of the sweater, firmly gripping Eddie’s hands in his own. He squeezed once, twice. A silent I love you they normally used when they couldn't say it out loud in public.

Eddie squeezed back.

Once.

Twice.

While the world outside slowly got swallowed by fluffy white.

[cuddlepilefics]

But if you stay, you'll get sick too

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: San

Caregiver: Hongjoong & Wooyoung

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

San couldn’t tell how long he had lain awake staring at the ceiling. They had returned to the dorm about two hours ago and while San had gone straight to bed just like the rest of the group, he just couldn’t fall asleep. He had been a little uneasy all day but couldn’t tell where the tension was coming from, all he knew was that he had to fall asleep fast if he didn’t want to be wrecked completely tomorrow. His stomach gave a low rumble and San lightly ran his hand over his middle. It was probably just nerves over having to face a full day of schedule while being sleep-deprived, so he didn’t think much of it. Until he sat up that was. Desperate to fall asleep, San decided to go to the kitchen and have some water but as soon as he was upright, his head spun and he broke into a sweat. Drawing in a shaky breath, he rested his head in his hands and waited for the dizzy spell to pass.

When San finally deemed it safe to move, his muscles protested the movement aching deeply as he got to his feet. Every step towards the kitchen seemed to take unspeakable effort and by the time he reached his destination, he was drenched in sweat. San grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed a few sips before resting his forehead against one of the kitchen cabinets. He had felt kind of rundown all day but that had been nothing compared to what he felt now. Bracing himself against the kitchen counter, San lowered himself to the ground. He felt faint all of a sudden and weakly leant against the wall as he stretched out his sore legs in front of him. The cold water in his stomach made him shiver as goosebumps spread down his arms and legs but he was still glad he had had some water because it might help the headache, that was forming behind his brow.

“What are you doing out here, Sannie?”, Hongjoong yawned as he approached his dongsaeng in the dark. Too dazed with sleep, San didn’t manage to answer the leader but his stomach did so for him, giving a loud groan. Taken aback at the sound, Hongjoong muttered: “Upset stomach?” Humming in confirmation, San took a deep breath. “Can’t sleep”, he admitted quietly, dropping his head back against the wall. Scratching his head, Hongjoong offered: “Do you want some tea? See if it settles your stomach so you can sleep….” The younger didn’t feel like he had anything to lose and weakly nodded his head. However, he made no move to get up or out of the way as Hongjoong stepped around him to turn on the kettle and grab a cup. “Why don’t you go and sit on the couch?”, the older asked as he watched San shudder. The kitchen tiles were cold, so no wonder the other felt chilled.

Hongjoong didn’t get a reply and expectantly glanced down at his dongsaeng. “Help?”, the leader asked and San nodded weakly. His hands were clammy when he gripped Hongjoong’s and his vision darkened for a moment upon being upright. The leader’s brows furrowed in concern as he supported the younger to the couch. Sure, San could be dramatic at times but right now, he was just so out of it. Plus, his skin felt unusually warm to the touch, so Hongjoong suspected he might as well be running a fever. “Wait here and I’ll get your tea”, the leader instructed.

Protectively wrapping his arm around his stomach, San curled up on the couch. His eyes stung as he finally accepted that he had most likely come down with something because simple indigestion couldn’t explain the amount of discomfort he was experiencing. He swallowed hard as Hongjoong approached him with the steaming cup of peppermint tea. The leader placed the cup onto the coffee table to let it cool down a little first and hummed: “How long have you felt bad for?” San shrugged as he drew his legs up to his chest. “Just felt tired and rundown but when I went to bed and couldn’t fall asleep, it just progressively felt more wrong”, he yawned, rubbing at his reddened eyes. “You felt pretty warm to me just now. Did you take your temperature or do you feel like you might have a fever”, Hongjoong asked softly as he studied his pale dongsaeng in the dim light. San gave a hesitant nod, admitting: “I’m really sweaty but cold, my head hurts and my whole body just aches, so… I think that’s a fever.” The older hummed in agreement, getting to his feet to retrieve the thermometer.

When they had confirmed that San was indeed running a fever, Hongjoong handed him his tea and sighed: “Sip this slowly and see if it helps your tummy some. Want me to call management for you in the morning?” – “Hm, wanna try an’ sleep it off. Might be fine then”, San mumbled as he took a tiny sip of his tea. Hongjoong doubted the other would be fine by the time they had to get up but agreed that they’d decide how to proceed in the morning. Though the leader was hesitant, he let San convince him to go back to bed as the younger promised he’d do the same. San didn’t want to keep his hyung up, so he too snuck back to his room, careful as to not wake Yunho. Shivering, he huddled under his blanket as he sipped his tea in the dark.

The tea hadn’t really helped San’s stomach at all and he soon found himself wandering out to the common area again. He had put on an oversized hoodie to help with the chills, rubbing his sweaterpaw against his temple to soothe the headache. For a moment, San contemplated curling up on the couch but he felt to restless to settle down. Pulling his hood up, he popped a mint between his lips and drew a deep breath through his nose. San shakily exhaled through his mouth before repeating, trying to calm his churning stomach down. A small trickle of sweat made its way down his temple as he sucked on the mint.

San’s heart stopped for a split second when someone touched his shoulder. “Hyung, quit pacing”, Wooyoung whined sleepily, “I thought someone broke into our dorm.” It was only when San turned and the hallway light illuminated his pale face that the younger realized something was still really wrong despite there not being an intruder. “Well, shit”, Wooyoung exclaimed, suddenly wide awake, “What happened to you?” San only gave a weak shrug as his stomach gurgled sickly. He stifled a burp before muttering: “I have a fever.” – “Okay”, Wooyoung hummed, “Does anyone else know?” The older gave a tired nod. “Hongjoong-hyung made me tea and took my temperature. I was supposed to go back to bed but I still can’t sleep”, San pouted, dazedly blinking at his friend.

Since he wasn’t sure what to do, Wooyoung guided San to sit on the couch. Running his hand through the other’s hair, Wooyoung whispered: “Why don’t you lay down, hm? We can cuddle, see if you manage to drift off….” San however sat stiffly on the couch, his shoulders tense as he stared at the opposite wall. “Come on, Sannie. Work with me a little”, Wooyoung cooed, cupping his friend’s flushed cheeks, “How can I help you?” He winced at the hot touch of San’s skin and the other’s glossy eyes seemed to look right through him. Pressing his palms to his eyes the older grimaced and swallowed hard. This was just so wrong, he felt so wrong.

San hiccupped as he held his head in his hands, lips pressed into a thin line. His breath was quick and panting as sweat beaded his forehead, lips turning white. Wooyoung was caught off guard when San pitched forward gagging into his sleeve. He rushed to grab the other by the shoulder as he had almost fallen from the couch. Before Wooyoung could decide whether to drag his friend to the bathroom or fetch a bucket, San’s stomach lurched and a hot waved of sick gushed out behind the sweaterpaws he had clamped over his lips. Seeing the damage was already done, the younger carefully patted San’s arms and hushed: “Move your hands, it’s okay.” Wooyoung helplessly rubbed his friend’s back as the older retched again, eyes flooding with tears. “You’re okay”, Wooyoung promised, glancing away in an attempt to protect his own stomach as he listened to the splattering noise. He was brought back to focus when a sob tore from San’s throat, the sound hoarse from the strain.

Wooyoung startled when an arm snaked around his waist, someone gently moving him aside. “I got him, Woo”, Hongjoong promised, carefully removing San’s hood to comb his sweaty hair out of his face, “You didn’t tell me it was this bad.” The leader patted San’s back when the younger coughed, grimacing at the string of saliva dangling from his lips. “Let’s get you out of that hoodie”, Hongjoong decided, pulling the back over San’s head to keep the mess on the sleeves contained inside. Using a clean edge of the hoodie, the leader wiped off his dongsaeng’s chin and hands before he hummed: “Are you okay to move?” San only whimpered as his friends pulled him up by the arms, steadying him against the dizziness. With Wooyoung’s help, Hongjoong maneuvered San to the bathroom and immediately shoved the other’s soiled hoodie into the washing machine.

Relieved to not be in charge, Wooyoung was able to collect himself and helped San settle in front of the toilet. The younger lightly traced San’s bare back with his nails in hopes of providing him some comfort, while Hongjoong ran a washcloth under warm water to properly clean his dongsaeng up. “Hyung, I don’t feel good…”, San slurred before burying his head into the toilet bowl with a guttural retch. Wooyoung made eye contact with Hongjoong, who sighed: “I know you don’t, Sannie, and I’m most definitely calling you in sick in the morning. Can you lift your head for me?” The leader dabbed the sweat off San’s forehead before wiping his lips and chin. Last he cleaned the other’s hands and went to rinse the washcloth under cold water now. Hongjoong squeezed out the excess water before draping the cold washcloth across his dongsaeng’s neck. San shuddered as goosebumps spread down his arms but they really needed to bring his fever down.

“You feeling okay, Woo?”, Hongjoong asked quietly. The younger had taken a seat on the edge of the tub next to San, rubbing his friends back and shooting the leader a questioning look. “You looked a little pale earlier”, Hongjoong breathed, studying his two dongsaengs, “If you got him, I’ll clean the living room, yeah?” Wooyoung nodded, tangling his fingers in San’s hair, lightly scratching the other’s scalp.

San’s eyelids were drooping and Wooyoung gently pulled him back to rest against his legs. “Where do you want to sleep, hyung”, Wooyoung whispered, “Your bed, my bed, the couch, …? We’ll grab a bucket and see how we can get you comfortable. I could rub your tummy if that’d help any.” San released a shaky breath, resting his forehead against Wooyoung’s knee. He was really craving the younger’s cuddles now. They always made him feel better. When San tried to speak, his voice was faint and he slurred his speech a little with how exhausted he was, admitting: “’M really craving some cuddles. …would love you to rub my tummy ‘cuz… my tummy’s really not happy right now. Can you stay, Woo?” Before Wooyoung got a chance to reply, San’s feverish rambles continued. “No”, he whined, “You can’t stay, Woo.” – “I’d say, I surely can”, the younger disagreed. “But if you stay, you’ll get sick too”, San croaked, making his friend sigh.

When Hongjoong returned, he and Wooyoung helped San to his feet to rinse his mouth and wash his hands. They then walked their friend to the couch, where Hongjoong had already set up a bucket, tissue box and water bottle. Like he had promised, Wooyoung laid down alongside San and lightly drew circles over the other’s gurgling stomach, finally luring him to sleep.

[lou-struck]

Your Beautiful Self

Asmodeus x Reader

Prompt: Spa Night

~This prompt is a part of my Comfort Milestone Event which you can find on my Welcome page

How is it possible to live in a house with seven other people and not see them for a whole week?

The answer to this question may have vexed you until this week when you have been up to your ears in work. 

You have run ragged through the Devildom doing not only your tasks but little things for others, barely having time to eat a sit-down meal or take a decent shower.

You feel bone tired and utterly disgusting. That along with the copious amount of stress you have felt this week makes you just want to break down.

Never before has shutting yourself in a dark room for a month sounded so appealing. 

Sitting makes you feel restless and moving about makes you feel exhausted. You need to find something to do with yourself that can make you feel less like a service and more like a person.

You hear a gentle knocking on your door followed by an airy voice calling to you through the wood. "MC Darling, it’s your favorite. May I come in?.”

"Come on in Asmo.” You call wondering what the Avatar of Lust is doing outside of your bedroom.

Dramatically he bursts through the doors sending you a radiant smile. It could just be your tired eyes, but he looks better than normal. Almost angelically so.

“There you are!” he says rushing towards you with outstretched arms, “I have missed you so much..”

He stops in his tracks and gets a good look at your neglected form.

“I know, I know.  I don’t look too pretty right now.” you sigh playfully. But still, you cast your eyes to the floor in shame.

“Darling, look at me,” he commands softly. His freshly shined shoes become visible in front of you. “To me, you are always beautiful, but you need to take care of yourself.”

Tears of shame well in your eyes as he speaks. “I’m just so tired Asmo,” you croak, hiding your face in your hands.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” he offers, gently pulling you into his embrace without a hint of hesitation. His sweater smells strongly of roses and expensive cologne but its familiarity puts you at ease.

“I don’t want to be a-”

“You are never a burden,” he interrupts as if reading your mind. “I’m gonna treat you to the most relaxing little spa day you have ever had,” he says.

Glancing up at him shyly you see that his peach-colored eyes hold only care in them, no disgust insight. With a nod you allow him to take your hand and walk you to his room so he can start pampering you in the way that you deserve.

~

The warm steam from the bathtub covers the many mirrors in Asmodeus' private bathroom. The heavy scent of the bubbles and flower petals you soak in washes over your overworks psyche.

At one point you believe you fell asleep. Your head resting safely against the bath pillow on the edge of the porcelain.

The Demon is not in the room with you. After drawing the bathtub he ducked away to give you a little privacy and grab some beauty products for your night of pampering.

Your fingers look like prunes by the time you get out of the tub but you feel clean and refreshed. You know you won’t feel at 100% until you’ve had a proper meal and a full night's sleep. But it’s a start.

Using one of Asmo’s plush towels, you dry off and slip on a new pair of silk pajamas he has laid out for you. The material feels cool against your skin as you pad into his bedroom to see what else he plans on doing for you.

“You look happy,” he coos, enveloping you and yet another bone-crushing hug. His contact fills another thing you have been lacking; physical touch.

“I feel much better; Thank you for the bath Asmodeus.” You mutter into his sleeve. 

“I hope next time the two of us can take a bath together,” he winks, pouring you a tall glass of fruit-infused water. “ Drink up Doll, you need to hydrate if you want your skin to glow like mine.”

You give him a playful eye roll and take a greedy gulp of the water its subtle sweetness dribbling down your chin.

“You spoil me,” you tell setting down the glass.

“Oh Darling,” he coos wiping your chin with a sweet-smelling tissue. “You have no idea what else I have planned for the two of us.”

~

When it comes to self-care, Asmodeus is a self-proclaimed god.

Every brush of face mask against your skin is feather-light and loving. It’s almost as if he is trying to seduce you with mud masks and pedicures.

You were so relaxed that if he asked you to marry him right then and there you would say yes on the spot.

Whenever you try to thank him, he smiles brightly and finds some untouched surface of your skin to kiss his eyes glassy with raw emotion. 

He always tells you that there’s no need to thank him and that you deserve to feel beautiful and pampered every day of your life.

The last thing you remember is the heavenly feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp before his humming puts you to sleep.

[zirawrites]

Could you do companions reacting to sole breaking down and confessing to having a weird unique pipboy with a saving/loading function (like having the game mechanic in the real life)? They'd try to use it for good, loading back to get the best outcome in dialogs and quests, or to keep their companions from getting hurt in battles, but it'd make them go mad with time, so they'd start lashing out, hurting people, doing horrible things to them before loading back and being kind to everyone again. They'd regret the things they've done later, but still snap and do these things sometimes.

One of the tropes thst I like really much for some reason lol. Horrors of being a god.

Cait: “If I had one of those Pip-Boys, I’d be doin’ the same thing.” Cait shrugged dismissively. “We all need to blow off some steam. Long as you’re not actually hurtin’ someone, I don’t see why anyone’d get their panties in a twist.” Cait wasn’t sure why Sole felt so guilty. As far as she was concerned, Sole could vent their anger and no one would be the wiser. She just asked Sole not to kick her ass and then rewind time. The idea felt embarrassing.

Curie: “I cannot believe that such technology exists. Is there a way you could prove it to me?” When Sole explained that only the person wearing the Pip-Boy could rewind time, Curie insisted she try it herself. She used a marker to draw on Sole’s cheek (since she’d never hurt Sole, even for science), then reversed time with the Pip-Boy. Even after she watched the colorful mark disappear, Curie wasn’t sure if it was an elaborate prank. “Maybe we leave powerful technology to the experts, yes?”

Danse: “That’s abominable, soldier.” Danse’s face was red and twisted with raw fury. “Your Pip-Boy is the exact kind of damning technology the Brotherhood seeks to eradicate from the Commonwealth. And for the very reasons it is corrupting you.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me so it can be destroyed. I won’t ask again.”

Deacon: “So, how many penises have you drawn on my face? C’mon, don’t be shy.” Deacon didn’t believe Sole one bit, nor did he have any desire to try the Pip-Boy himself when they offered. When Sole wouldn’t let up or admit they were teasing him, Deacon was more worried about their mental health than the inconceivable power they wielded. He asked Sole to start leaving their Pip-Boy behind on missions, even if it meant needing to consult a good old fashion map.

Hancock: “Punching down is still punching down, even if the little guy won’t remember.” Hancock didn’t need convincing to believe Sole really had a time-warping Pip-Boy. He could tell by the anxiety on their face that they were telling the truth. The mayor focused more on explaining to Sole that any act of cruelty was wrong. And, in a roundabout way, hurting someone innocent was hurting yourself.

MacCready: “Have you used it on me?” MacCready felt sick when Sole nodded. “Was it to help me in a fight? Or did you ever, you know...” He couldn’t come out and ask if Sole had ever killed him. Their friendship would be ruined. Instead, MacCready glared at the Pip-Boy around Sole’s arm. “Never use it again. Or we’re through. Got it?”

Preston: “If I get hurt on a run, just use a Stimpack on me. No need to reload my life and try again. How else will we learn from our mistakes?” Preston was gentle with his attempt to get Sole to ditch the Pip-Boy. Even if it put their friends in danger. He just didn’t think it could lead to any real good.

Piper: “And you never stopped to wonder if the Institute made that for you? What if every time you reload something else horrible is happening? There’s no way you can just time travel without repercussions.” Piper was more angry with Sole using technology they didn’t understand than hurting other people. It wasn’t like Sole’s victims would even remember. “I bet it has some fancy tracking device. I dunno, Blue. Just get rid of it.”

Nick: “If things do not turn out as we wish, we should wish for them as they turn out.” Nick didn’t care if quoting Aristotle was pretentious. He was worried Sole would lose their ethics. Morals. Grip on reality. “You’re playing god, Sole. That’s never worked out for anyone. You’ve already let it go to your head. Don’t let it go to your heart, too.”

X6-88: X6 deeply enjoyed the possibility that time could be rewound. How many people could be saved from a stupid decision? The Commonwealth was filled with errant bullets, bad calls and careless people. “You aren’t doing anything I wouldn’t do myself with one of those.” X6 pointed at Sole’s Pip-Boy. “With technology like that, the Institute cannot fail.”

[cilil]

Summer Stories

AN: Requested by @melkors-big-tits. Tumblr ate the ask, but here's the fic anyway. Made it longer than the others too so some smut can happen~

Prompt: Beat the heat | Melkor x Gothmog Synopsis: Gothmog is on the verge of overheating. Melkor helps him with letting off some steam. Warnings: Smut (explicit)

His fána is on the brink of combustion. 

Gothmog groans, rolling his eyes, and shifts on the rocky ground in hopes of finding a cooler spot. Fire spirit or not, at times the heat gets too much even for him, making him feel like he's going to have flames bursting out of his mouth and eyes as soon as he isn't careful. 

His fellow Balrogs probably wouldn't mind too much, and neither would the latest clutch of dragonlings currently exploring the fortress; but unfortunately not all his lord's servants are fireproof, and Mairon tends to dislike needless casualties. 

Just as he's discreetly coughing up a few embers and letting his tongue loll out, Melkor emerges from a stone pillar nearby, walking through stone as if it was liquid or a mere apparition. His purple eyes find Gothmog's, watching him curiously. 

"I might as well put you inside my fireplace in this state," he comments, visibly amused. 

Gothmog sighs in response and rolls over to face him. 

"Well... is your fireplace cool?" he attempts to joke, only for flames to spill from his mouth as he speaks, betraying the seriousness of his current state. 

Melkor saunters over and sits down in front of his favourite Balrog, unimpressed by the threat of spontaneous combustion looming on the horizon. 

"I was wondering if you were in heat when you disappeared for a while, but didn't think it would be quite so literal," he laughs quietly, then spreads his legs and pats his thigh. "Now come here before you burn down the entire fortress."

Winking, he adds in a lower voice, "I can help with either."

Gothmog doesn't need to be told twice. He practically scrambles to crawl into his lord's waiting arms and finds himself pulled flush against Melkor's cool chest. For a moment, he thinks he might melt in spite of the icy embrace he finds himself in, heat surging through him as he realises how close he suddenly is to his beloved Vala; but then the cold he normally avoids and abhors seeps into his very being, taming the raging inferno. 

His mouth falls open to release a long, content sigh, accompanied by a cloud of smoke. Melkor's hands start to wander as if to spread his cooling touch, one drawing circles on his back, one rubbing his chest until his nipples harden – 

Gothmog purrs and leans back to rest his head on the Vala's plush pectorals. How wonderful it is to have his lord taking care of him... he would love to touch him as well, but he wants to enjoy this, wants to see what Melkor will do, how far he will go. 

Perhaps his earlier comment about his heat was more than a mere joke, Gothmog wonders. 

By the time Melkor is moving his hand steadily lower, the Balrog's cock is hard and proudly erect, enticing him to wrap his hand around it instead of toying with the small glittering gems covering the skin of his lower body. 

"So pretty..." Melkor mumbles, running his thumb over every vein, ridge and spike of Gothmog's rather impressive manhood. 

"You want it inside you?" 

The words are out before Gothmog can control himself. Still, he can't bring himself to regret such a bold statement – he wants this, wants to release the remaining flames threatening to break free now that Melkor has stoked them, and he knows all the rumours about his lord's illicit escapades. 

Melkor rests his head on his shoulder with a deceptively innocent expression, parting his lips to show his blue tongue. "Yes." 

In lieu of a response, Gothmog turns around to face Melkor and grabs a fistful of black hair, feeling its tendril-like strands coiling around his wrist as if to welcome his touch. He lets his legs fall open before pushing his head down, a silent demand that is eagerly granted by his lord. Sharp teeth graze his skin as he bucks his hips impatiently to push inside, the Vala's mouth both hot and cold, keeping him on edge. 

Melkor allows him to push until his ashen lips are pressed against the heated flesh at the base of his Maia's cock, and Gothmog moans in delight. It feels so good, penetrating his lord's tight, wet throat so deeply, and he gently strokes it with his free hand to feel the outline of his length inside. 

Fuck, he's good...

By the time Melkor's voice rings out in his mind, asking him to move, Gothmog is barely listening. His claws dig into his lord's hair, holding onto him as tightly as he can while thrusting with the fierce and reckless strength of a Balrog. Like the fire flaring up inside him once more he is swift, erratic, merciless, hungry, greedy, and Melkor takes and takes and takes, hollowing out his cheeks to suck him in deeper and deeper. 

Gothmog doesn't relent until he releases, filling the Vala's mouth with white-hot, viscous seed. He briefly wonders if he shouldn't have done that, but before he can even attempt to apologise he feels Melkor happily swallowing and licking him clean. His lord raises his head, claws still holding onto his hair even as his grip softens, and proudly shows off his glistening tongue. 

"They say a Balrog's essence glitters because of the gems on your fánar," Melkor purrs, gently rubbing the gems covering Gothmog's lower body, and licks his lips as if to coat them in it. "I sure hope it does..."

Gothmog nods, still panting as he comes down from his high – both the fire inside him and his lust for the Vala have been satisfied, at least for a while. Part of him dares to hope that Melkor will be willing to help him again once either of those come back to plague him. 

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

taglist: @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @wandererindreams

[siriuslystargazing]

Something About Us

Inspired by the utterly heart destroying songs Something About us by Daft Punk and Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues

its a Wolfstar mini fic

It had been a long week for Sirius. The last couple of days blurred into one, reuniting with his Godson to being the company of the man he loved and now he stood in the damp deteriorating halls of 12 Grimmauld place. Not the place he wanted to be in, but shelter was shelter and as an escaped convict it felt like a castle compared to his old cell. Sirius let out a sigh, his body heavy and week he plodded up the stairs to his old bedroom and collapsed onto the dusty sheets. 

Remus apparated to the Borough of Islington, it was a suave area that he could feel his fingers burning at the sight of uniformed luxury townhouses.  he made his way over to hidden town house letting himself in. It wasn’t much but Remus could happily turn this gloomy house into a home, if Sirius would let him stay. It had been too long since they both embraced each other as lovers, Remus wondered if the man he loved still held those feelings for him. Now wasn’t the time for that. Remus set his case down in the hallway climbing the stairs to Sirius.  

“Moony?” Sirius called out, he sounded groggy Remus cursed himself “Sorry Pads, I didn’t mean to wake you”  

“s’okay, ugh I need a bath” Sirius grimaced at the smell of him, Remus chuckled “I'm glad you established that on your own, I'll go draw you a bath... Umm” 

“Third door on your right, id run it for a few minutes knowing this place what will come out will be rancid” Sirius let out a loose laugh pulling himself off the bed, his bones ached and the little muscle he has cried out at the constant movements. He heard the water running and the muffled curses from Remus, he also sat and wondered if the werewolf still loved him, but alas now was not the time for such luxury's as love. Remus waited as the orange water turned clear before putting in the plug, he wasn’t going to chance the faded bottles of bath oils, so he summoned his case searching for his last bottle of vanilla bath oil he was saving for emergencies. “S’pose this is an emergency...” he sighed for the loss but new he could replace it soon, his final salary payment should come soon anyway. He emptied the vial into the water its sweet scent filling the bathroom as it danced along the steam from the water. He continued to stir the water making sure it's not too hot, he remembered how much Sirius detested his scalding hot showers. Speaking of Sirius, he managed to limp into the bathroom “moony it smells just like you”  

“I should hop so I used the last of my oils-” he watched as Sirius face drops at the comment “I mean I don’t mind besides I'm not really in the mood to test all of these so umm yeah I'll let you get on with it...” Remus avoids Sirius gaze and inches out the bathroom “stay” Remus stops “if you don’t mind, you can stay with me” Sirius wanted to recoil into himself at how pathetic he sounded but Remus was already helping him peel off the disgusting prisoners garb. The silence was palatable, Remus had no idea how week Sirius really was until he found himself helping the other into the bath. Sirius was a shell of his former self, sure he still had those handsome features, but it was dulled and sunken. Remus started to cup water in his hands letting wash down Sirius hair "You look exactly how I feel the morning after y’know” Sirius let out a hum. “I think I have some shampoo in here, it's not the best quality but I got it for cheap at the savers” Remus begins to rummage around in his case again “it better not be any of that two in one shit you convinced me try in 7th year” Remus stops “you remember that?” “of course, I tried to remember lots of stuff, I didn’t want them to win” Remus opens his mouth but closes it pulling out the shampoo and conditioner, the room falls back into silence. Remus begins to lather Sirius’s hair his fingers get caught in the tangles and matts “Siri, I think I need to cut your hair” Siri, that nickname, Remus hadn’t realised he used it, but Sirius did, he was still maybe things weren't so different. “Do you still love me Remus?” it was so sudden, but Remus was focused “of course I still love you, I don’t think I could ever stop loving you”  

Sirius was shocked, was Remus so deep in thought that he wasn’t aware of what he was saying but he sounded so sincere, like the last 12 years never happened that it was just another Saturday back in their old flat and he was just having one of his bad days. But it wasn’t, he was 12 years older, sitting in a bathtub in his old home. “Now isn't the time for this Sirius, let's just focus on getting you looking and feeling better” Sirius looks at Remus “there something about us I've got to do but now isn't the time” Sirius just nods and tuns back “make me look good Rem” Remus smiles and begins cutting. 

A few simple cleaning spells worked wonders on Sirius old room, the dusty sheets were crisp and clean and had a slight hint of lavender, the floors were spotless, and it actually looked like someone had never left. Remus decided to pull out his record player setting it on the writing desk, he let the needle drop on a random record it was Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues. Sirius sat on his bed he felt so weak, he never knew a bath could take so much out of you. Remus knelt down Infront of the frail shell of his lover “care for a dance, Black.” Sirius let the smile tug his face “of course” Remus returned the gesture pulling them both up, Sirius fell into Remus’s embrace as the music met its climax. “When you left it flet like part of me had died” Remus began “it felt horrible, I missed you, but I hated you, and yet a small part of me knew deep down you would never betray us. I’m sorry.” Sirius pulled away to look Remus in the eyes, those big beautiful eyes “I'm Sorry My love, I promise I will never leave you again” Sirius let his lips meet Remus’s.  

Requests are open if you want somthing specific

[starrypawz]

prompt 67 of the nsfw prompts you just reblogged :>

100 nsfw prompts "“So good for me, look at how much you came.” AO3 (content notes can be found there)

So this is an old prompt, it's also not what I've been currently working on because... writer's block but hey maybe early relationship Gerry/Nemo will help

So good, so good, so good, so good, sogood, sogoo-

Oh…

Oh no

He shudders, lightheaded with his  pulse thrumming in his ears and it’s any wonder the sheets under him haven’t set alight from the warmth running through him. Especially as somehow there’s enough blood to spare to bring another rush of heat to his face as his brain catches up to the rest of him about what just happened as he lies there.

“Gerry?”

He might as well be the ashes of a Leitner by this point.

“Sorry-” He manages weakly, voice muffled by the pillow he’s buried his face into.

“Sorry?” Nemo’s fingers gently cup his jaw, cool against his skin and for a brief moment he imagines steam, “For what?” 

“Do I have to say it out loud?” He snorts into the pillow, “You know what just happened-”

Nemo snorts and then lightly thumbs his nipple and he moans. 

“That I just found out I can make you cum just from doing that?” Nemo  does it again and giggles and oh that doesn’t help matters at all as he tries to bury his face into the pillow further. And somehow there’s a tiny bit of him that’s aware enough to realise that this new wave of embarrassment rapidly… goes south. And that wave makes him bite down on a moan as he feels a twitch that 1. Reminds him these jeans are too damned tight right now and 2. That he needs to add this whole situation to the exponentially growing list of ‘things to unpack later. 

He sighs and manages to turn to face Nemo who kneels between his legs. 

“So-” Nemo skims a finger over the skin around his navel and he squirms before they flick the piercing in his navel, “Can I see?” 

He nods and shudders as Nemo’s hands work over his hip bone to where his jeans hang low on his hips with the waistband of his boxers peeking out just over the top and Nemo makes short work of his belt and fly and as he lifts his hips to help them he sighs with relief as he finds himself exposed. 

“Woah… that’s… that’s a lot,” Nemo breathes with an awed chuckle and he swallows hard as Nemo meets his gaze, “I… I made you do that?”

“Yeah… you did,” Gerry chuckles, the embarrassment now replaced with a strange swell of pride. 

“Does that hurt?” 

“A little… Don’t stop,” Gerry moans and grabs the sheets as Nemo gives a few more testing touches, “It feels.. Good,”  

(He also has to add that to the list) 

“I won’t,” Nemo grins as they wrap a hand around him  “If you touch yourself for me,” their grin takes on a bend that’s downright devilish and he manages a strained chuckle as he starts to thumb over his nipple and gasps which turns into a moan as Nemo takes him into their mouth as they tease him slowly. 

He whimpers and bites down on his lip, one of Nemo’s hands placed on his hip and he does his best to keep his hips still. Everything is on the edge of being too much but also not enough as Nemo continues to keep things slow. He does his best to match Nemo’s rhythm as he teases himself. 

Once again it’s all over all too soon. 

Nemo gives a muffled gasp as he jolts and he tenses for a moment but Nemo continues to tease him, seemingly intent on drawing every last drop from him as they give muffled moans as he whimpers. 

Nemo comes up for air eventually as they slowly release him with a wet pop.

Nemo continues to tease him as they seem intent on drawing every last drop from him as they moan around his cock as he whimpers before they eventually come up for air as they release him with a wet pop. 

With shaky hands he pulls them in for a kiss and… Oh. 

He feels Nemo smirk against his lips as he swallows down his own cum. (Not for the first time… what can he say he’s been… curious in the past) 

They break for air again. Gerry’s hands rest on Nemo’s hips.

“You came so hard for me,” Nemo grins as they pull him in for a biting kiss, “Good boy,”

He moans against their lips as he lets a hand wander downwards and

Oh

He cups them gently, the soft cotton of their boxers is soaked to the touch. Nemo whimpers and tenses their thighs as he rubs against clit as Nemo looks away from him with their face flushed red,

“Looks like you came so hard for me too-” He grins before he pulls Nemo in for another kiss as he slips a hand into their boxers. 

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #309: To Find OLYMPIA!

November, 1989

Namor looks like he's got some negative things to say, in the zone.

And it is canon sometimes that the Negative Zone makes a person feel negative. Its the Bad Vibes Place.

I have no idea why dead Gilgamesh was drawn with the What's Going On He-Man face. Or why She-Hulk is in her Fantastic Four duds.

So, lets get into it.

Last times, in Avengers: Captain America held a meeting to declare that all the Avengers teams were one team and he was in charge of the Avengers. Also, the Avengers got kidnapped by Lava Men. And so did Namor. They were taken to the Last Lava Man, a priest called Jinku, who accused the Avengers of genociding the Lava Men, which they kinda sorta did do by killing a random demon named Cha'sa'dra during Inferno. The Avengers don't beat Jinku and the giant monster he summoned so much as run out the clock. Some of the dead Lava Men turned out to not be dead so much as incubating. They hatched into golden men and told Jinku to knock it off. Alas?, Gilgamesh got fatally slapped while fighting the lava monster and is now exceptionally dead. The Avengers take Gilgamesh to Sersi who can't help and suggests they take him to the Eternal city Olympia. Except Eternal Sprite managed to blow it up like ten minutes before they get there. The whole city.

Just a big, steaming crater now.

Thanks Sprite, you screw-up.

Sersi: "It is... gone! All of fabled Olympia! Snuffed out as a flickering candle flame! How can this be??"

Captain America tries to offer any help the Avengers can do. But Sersi just dramatically faints after psychically scanning for any trace of Olympia.

She murmurs about emptiness and enormity and the loneliness of endless space.

Such a dramatic person.

There's also a weird bit of choreography where Captain America caught Sersi when she fainted. So he's clearly not holding his shield. He tells She-Hulk to hold it for him but she's already holding it and must have grabbed it when he dropped it to pick up Sersi, since she's right behind him in that panel.

And she gives it right back to him as soon as he's put Sersi down.

So why was it necessary for Cap to tell She-Hulk to do something she was already doing? Did Byrne worry that the choreography wouldn't stand on its own?

Ah well.

The Avengers wonder if there's something wrong with the Eternals lately. Because, well, Gilgamesh is mostly dead despite being Eternal and the Lava Monster didn't hit him THAT hard.

Gilgamesh should have been able to heal himself, since all Eternals have the power of molecular manipulation over their own bodies.

Sersi drifts back to consciousness and explains that "all Eternals an sense the minds of all other Eternals no matter the range" so she tried reaching out.

She sensed them near but not on Earth.

Which Cap finds baffling. But Thor has an idea what she means.

Remember how his hammer used to be able to create dimensional portals and then it couldn't? Well, it can again.

He figures that near but far probably means another dimension. And he doesn't have to be precise. When all you have is a hammer, it helps if its a really, really cool hammer.

Thor just wills "let the powers that split the raging heavens now be focused here, into a single place, a single purpose... and let any barrier betwixt us and Olympia... be SUNDERED!"

And bippity boppity boo, a portal is opened through.

To the Negative Zone, apparently. Well, the cover spoiled that. You're not special for realizing it on sight, She-Hulk.

Sersi confirms that Thor hit the nail on the head. In the Negative Zone she can indeed sense Olympia.

She-Hulk: "In the Negative Zone? But... how the heck did it get there? I thought the only access was through the portal in the Fantastic Four's headquarters." Thor: "Nay, green one. That is but one way to reach this parallel dimension. Mjolnir hath opened this small gateway by drawing on the residual energies of whatever force dispatched Oympia hence."

Namor says that the time for discussion is over. If Olympia is in the Negative Zone, the only hope for Gilgamesh will be to find it.

Sersi agrees.

Sersi: "We must go now where Olympia has gone... into the Negative Zone!"

"Meanwhile, elsewhere" we check back in on old guy who blew up his own house subplot.

Professor Harker takes the blueprints for his fantabulous new invention to the Polydyne company and blows them away!

A guy in a tie: "It's absolutely amazing! Something like this is going to make cold fusion seem as antiquated as rubbing two sticks together! Why... the kind of power that could be harnessed from a single such device would be enough to supply the needs of the whole world for centuries!"

Professor Harker himself prefers to think of it as more the power to re-shape the whole universe maybe. But the Polydyne peeps warn him the money men won't understand that so maybe stick with the 'makes cold fusion look like a joke' sales pitch.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, the Great Lakes Avengers!

Huh, I guess Byrne really is writing three teams in two books since the GLA is showing up in East Coast Avengers now.

I do worry that it's going to be hard to balance between the needs of the book's actual team and whatever Great Lakes Avengers content is showing up this month.

Hawkeye tells the Great Lakes Avengers that they did okay against the Absolom University chumps but they could have done a lot better.

I mean. They were only in action for a few pages so I don't know how you can tell.

But anyway, Hawkeye and Mockingbird have come up with carefully tailored training for the team!

Carefully tailored until they ran out of steam halfway and decided Mr Immortal and Doorman's powers were too weird to train and just have them training in athletics.

Didn't even try with Flatman. Hawkeye just tells him to do whatever he wants.

Pretty amazing how quickly Hawkeye goes from Tough Coach to half-assed.

So they have Dinah Soar flying while dodging hay bales, Big Bertha doing track and field, Mr Immortal and Doorman doing an obstacle course, and Flatman also doing an obstacle course but with more wiggling.

Hawkeye decides to throw a wrinkle in the training by shooting a grease arrow right in front of Big Bertha.

She slips, bumps into a fatphobic Mr Immortal, and he falls into Doorman.

Literally into.

This is weird because Doorman's powers are only supposed to work if he's against a door or a wall. Y'know, so his body can function as a door?

He's never had someone go through him when there wasn't a through.

Dinah Soar doesn't wait around for them to talk through the situation.

She flies right into Doorman. Literally into. And soon after flies out carrying Mr Immortal.

She cradles him against her chest as he shivers that it was so cold inside wherever he was.

Y'know... Next time the Great Lakes Avengers gets a miniseries or whatever, they should resurrect Dinah Soar. She missed out on a lot of the modern fleshing out the team got because her death basically kicked off the plot of the Dan Slott miniseries.

A new Great Lakes Avengers thing could have a lot of fun bringing her back and making it a whole thing about comic book resurrections.

C'mon, do it.

Anyway, Hawkeye decides they're gonna do a bunch of tests on Doorman, until they figure out how he works.

I was going to joke about Hawkeye trying to do science but I did then remember that Mockingbird does have a Ph.D.

In biology which may or may not wholly cover whatever is going on here. But in comics, a Ph.D. can do all the science.

Look at Hank Pym, revolutionizing robotics (derogatory) when his degree was in biochemistry. Almost as far from robotics as you can get.

Meanwhile, the A-plot.

I've missed it so.

... Actually, its the Save Gilgamesh plot so I didn't miss it so much.

Byrne is blatantly pushing to make the Great Lakes Avengers a thing but the main plots in both the Avengers plots are so blah that I don't actually mind the Great Lakes Avengers panel-time takeover so much.

Anyway, instead of just walking through the portal, the Avengers stopped to go get their Quinjet and are flying it through the Negative Zone.

I guess this is one of the space capable ones.

They're relying on Sersi's psychic connection with all other Eternals to guide them and she says they're on the right track.

Although the Avengers are doubtful about that since they just passed themselves.

I didn't know the Negative Zone did that.

Sersi insists that they're going the right way but she doesn't sound sure.

Cap agrees to keep going the way she's indicating but only for another hour or so! After that, they'll presumably have a very serious conversation about trying something else!

But Sersi was leading them right. Because right after that interaction, they find Olympia.

Just floating in the Negative Zone.

(Dammit, Sprite!)

The place is deserted - although most of the population was already gone before Sprite blew the place up so grain of salt on it looking deserted when it practically already was.

But it also looks decrepit, like its crumbling into ruin.

Sersi still senses her fellow Eternals... somewhere. So they land to look.

Namor flies off on his little ankle wings to scout around the city. And soon returns reporting he found nothing but a vague sense of unease.

He didn't see anyone in the city but he felt a presence all around.

Cap echoes his unease. The place feels haunted. Which Sersi dismisses since Eternals can't die.

Namor: "Yet that is precisely what is happening to Gilgamesh."

Acksually, he's only mostly dead.

Sersi wonders whether Olympia being lost in the Negative Zone and the Eternals being missing might somehow be related to Gilgamesh's advanced case of being sorta but not really dead.

Cap suggests they Split Up, They'll Cover More Ground That Way.

Thor is sent off on his own because he's a big, tough guy. She-Hulk and Sersi are sent off as a team. And Namor and Captain America make up the last team.

=_= Like. Did he put all the girls (all two girls) on the same team on purpose? Did he just want to hang out with his Nazi-punching World War II buddy, Namor?

Because. They discuss World War II as they're hopping and flying around the city. So it could very well be the second reason.

Captain America and Namor discuss how Olympia feels similar to Berlin in the last days of World War II. How it feels like there's an emptiness of spirit or the bitterness of "the death of dreams."

Cap worries that all they've accomplished on this journey is bringing Sersi to witness the end of the Eternals.

BUT NAMOR DOESN'T HAVE TIME TO CARE ABOUT THAT.

He re-steers the conversation back to how cool it is to hang out with an old-Nazi punching buddy. He misses the old gang.

Cap mentions that hey, recent revelations are that Vision wasn't made out of the Human Torch which means the Human Torch is maybe, probably, still around!

Namor: "Aye, and aye again! If he could be found... reactivated! The Invaders might well live again..."

Ugh.

I assume that was a huge part of Byrne's reasoning to do the VisionQuest plot.

He was big mad that robot Human Torch got tied up in Vision's origin and he wanted to peel him away so he could bring the Invaders back as a team again.

Either as a third book he'd be writing or as a fourth team he'd be writing in the two books he already had.

Every so many years, Marvel tries to bring the Invaders back.

I assume due to trademark reasons.

And it never lasts. Because the team doesn't make much sense outside a war. And any modern wars they've been shoved into are... just fraught with issues.

A new Invaders book was spun off from the Avengers way down the line to deal with the War on Terror and it was not great.

Anyway, a mystery off-screen person also agrees with me that reforming the Invaders is stupid as fuck and blows up Captain America and Namor.

Alas.

Meanwhile, She-Hulk and Sersi (designated lady team not cool enough to hang out with the Nazi punching boys) walk through the High Tower of Olympia, toward the Great Hall.

She-Hulk tries to mention she heard a far-off distant sound like thunder and also muses on how weird it is that the Negative Zone has breathable atmosphere but Sersi tells her to shut up.

THIS IS THE HIGH TOWER OF OLYMPIA, HUMANS DON'T USUALLY GET TO WALK THIS PASSAGE. BE IMPRESSED BY THE GRANDEUR, SHE-HULK.

Sersi: "This is the High Tower of Olympia -- the seat of our government, the holy of holies. No human has ever walked this passageway... Ahead lies the Great Hall, the central meeting place of all Eternals. Tread softly now in this hallowed place. Choose every word with care. Beyond these doors lies the very heart of Olympia. Draw your breath in awe at what will now unfold..."

Then she walks into a door.

Honestly, that's a funny gag.

Presumably the doors are supposed to swing open when an Eternal approaches them.

But, obviously, that's not happening.

So She-Hulk just shoves the doors open and strides on through.

She-Hulk: "Excuse me if I don't pay this place quite the respect you seem to think it's due, Sers... but let's try a more direct approach to opening these doors."

I hope She-Hulk sticks with the team whenever Sersi ends up joining. These two seem like they would have a hilarious dynamic.

The Great Hall seems to have been through a war, of some kind.

There's holes in the walls, pillars are shattered, the stonework is cracked.

In shock, Sersi declares no force on Earth could do this kind of damage. Especially not the Deviants. Not that there are any on Earth, since they were all launched into space as a cube. Probably.

Also, they're not on Earth. There's a lot of things in the Negative Zone that are heavy hitters. It's why people don't go there for fun. That and it makes people depressed to be there.

Weirder than the damaged state of the hall, Sersi can sense her fellow Eternals here, somehow! Here in this room! Everywhere around She-Hulk and Sersi! Despite the two seeming to be alone here!

Still angered by the idea of the Invaders reforming, someone blows up the Great Hall.

She-Hulk and Sersi are sent flying by the explosion.

And despite being gamma strong, there's something weird with gravity, so the fall knocks She-Hulk out despite cannonballing through seventeen stories of building in Avengers West Coast. Gravity is to blame.

Thor is aggroed by all these explosions. Like She-Hulk, he assumes that its the sound of thunder and this is a man who loves thunder.

He flies to the central tower and finds the place in ruins and Sersi in a weird intangible state.

Then Thor must have been thinking about the Invaders or something because he also blows up.

Nahhh just kidding.

It's Blastaar. He's been blowing people up.

He's incorrigible.

Unsurprisingly for a guy designed by Jack Kirby, he looks incredibly like a Kirby character. I think he goes to the same tailor as Darkseid. And the same beard barber as Highfather.

Anyway, Blastaar being the answer of 'what happened to the missing Eternals' sure is something. Not very satisfying as an answer but maybe him getting his ass kicked will be cathartic.

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