#i have trouble putting feeling into words and explaining myself

[ganondoodle]

still thinking about how even just the decision to basically act like the shiekah tech never existed is just ... so baffling to me

bc again you could have done all the sonau tech does with shiekah instead, and they were perfect to be explored more in a sequel, why wouldnt you grasp that potential, the literal building blocks for more??

if you are that tired of shiekah tech .. dont make it a fuckign sequel to the game prominently featuring it???? totk doesnt take place generations after botw in which things could have changed drastically, its just a few years afterwards??

you want to reuse the map and get rid of shiekah tech? ok fine take LINK into the past then and the focus is for you to find a way to return; do some neat twist where its revealed that link was the one who sealed gan bc he couldnt defeat him without zelda or something if you dare (they wouldnt)

want less work than that and still reuse the map and get rid of shiekah tech AND reuse characters? ok then make it some alternate universe thingy like majoras mask in which everythign is the same but also isnt, its weird and creepy how characters you thoguht you knew suddendly dont act like themselves, shiekah tech doesnt exist, malice is now miasma, etc, it would give reason to why you feel so much like something about this world is familiar yet also very wrong

as far as im aware every "sequel" we have had so far were either generations apart from the first one, some alternate universe or a different location altogether- in all of which its plausible that things are different, things seem weirdly familiar but also wrong, or that another continent just works different from hyrule

but totk does none of that, its supposedly just a few years after the first game, same world same character, but its BUILT like some strange jumbled mess of stuff from botw and new stuff out of nowhere that just .. doesnt fit, but feeling a strange sense of otherness, a déja vu of something you know but it acts off, like an imposter, thats NOT intentional and it shows, its a mess of botw stuff, from stuff that people missed from the old games and entirely new stuff; i dont doubt it CAN work but the way it turned out is like a mix of 3 different puzzles forced together and being told 'see it fits!' even tho you can clearly see the pieces dont look right in these places

again it feels like a sequel that desperately wants you to forget the first game happened, that anythign from it mattered at all

and that isnt really ... the sense of a sequel? why insist on it being one when it only creates problems? is it marketing?? just like it was marketing to call age of calamity a telling of what happened before botw but then it wasnt that at all and that is still the sole reason why i dislike it? bc i was lied to? totk is like 10000 times worse than that, its a main title and doesnt even have the excuse of yeah its basically an excuse to play all your fav characters in fun ways and the game beign well aware that being its main appeal; what is totk appeal? a toybox with botw aestethic and none of the flavor?

(on a sidenote; the sonau tech doesnt even .. matter? in botw at least calamity ganon was made of shiekah tech parts and him overtaking other tech is a big point, the sonau tech doesnt serve anything but .. idk minerus useless mech? gan doesnt even aknowledge it, he doesnt care, all it is is toys for the player, not link, but the player. the monsters mining the tech materials? what for? gan doesnt give a damn and they dont work for the yiga either??)

i said it before but it gives me the feeling that the way botw invited you to theorize, to look beneath the surface, the way it intrigued you and laid the groundwork for so many interesting things without denying anything.. was accidental? or perhaps put in the game without the directors noticing? i cant stop thinking about them saying sth like "after botw zelda wondered if the kingdom of hyrule needed to keep existing the way it had been before the calamity, but then totk happens" bc it just feels like they realized too late that botw naturally led into questioning the status quo and they scrambled to fit it back into a flat and boring road we have seen so many times before (or even worse really) with totk

zeldas character naturally leads into her questioning and reexamine their history and set of rules? we gotta teach her a lesson of why she is importante god given monarchy girl that has to keep it bc what if evil brown man shows up again for no reason

maybe im grasping at straws here but looking at it this way the sonau .. make more "sense"; the shiekah were a group that was under the rule of the royal family, and misstreated before (oh no look soemthing interesting) so they dont lend themselves well to be used for teaching zelda that lesson- the sonau however are tailored really to be just that; they are a supposedly godly race from the literal sky that founded this version of hyrule, that had tech even more advanced and better than the shiekah, she gets put in the past to meet the perfect god king of goodness personally, also his very fridgy wifey that zelda later replaces in a way, shes put there and treated like family and then gets to see just how evil that evil big man from the desert is, sonia is falcon-punched to death solely so zelda can feel obligated to take over her role, have her new, better 'family' hurt by gan; similarly so raurus sacrifice, look what a noble and good king he is, he payed the ultimate price to lock that evil man away, now zelda you cannot let their sacrifice go to waste, rebuild that divinely good kingdom like it was!!

and even though they go so much out of their way to put the cart back onto the rails of black and white-good and evil in an even flatter way than the old games, it still doesnt feel right, at least to me, it still feels like zelda shouldnt have gone along with all of that, it feels like even her character from botw was walked back entirely, except for the intro, it made her feel like a stranger to me-

because this is a sequel, i know this zelda, she wouldnt act like that after all that shes been through, this feels ... off

and it all just insulting to anyone who cared about botw more than surface level, or the zelda lore in general, i dont even care much about the timeline, but theres alot of lore and themes beyond it that felt ignored, especially so given that .. its a damn sequel, non AU, not generations apart, directly part 2-

but its not.

it even feels very "corporate", put zelda in a dress again, people liked that, put crazy abilities in the game to flashbang people with how insane it is even if its not the best for the gameplay or the story, put a new asthetic into it out of nowhere bc its 'new' and act like its been there the whole time, put gan in there bc people miss him and find him sexy even if his role is just as flat as that of an evil cloud monster-

*sigh*

you know, i saw a post that said aoc was like a bad fanfic (affectionate) and totk was like a bad fanfic (derogatory) and tbh thats like one of the best comparisons/summaries i have seen ..

[readymades2002]

im just like spongebob (employee of the month)

[dycefic]

Tom Saves The World

Everyone knows that it’s super-heroes who save the world. They fight the aliens, or the monsters, or the bad guys. And mostly, that’s true.

But not always.

I’m a psychic. The thing is, my range isn’t that great. I don’t have much detail more than about 36 hours out, 48 for something really big. I’d had a nebulous sort of bad feeling for about a week before this one finally hit, and it was big. Something very tough and very supernatural was going to come up out of the harbor of Nova Roma, and the death-toll was going to be high. Crazy high.

I did all I could. I told the Unaligned Supers Job Placement Agency, and they put the word out to everyone on both sides of the Line. The Henchman’s Union don’t like natural disasters any more than anyone else, and they’re often quite helpful against eldritch horrors and stuff like that. Things that don’t hire henchmen and ruin the property values.

The trouble was, nobody big was around. The only really big team of heavy hitters on the West Coast were away dealing with some sort of doomsday cult - I never was clear on what that was about - and Guarde and Dog Fox were out of touch and even Mx Frantique was out of town at someone’s wedding. It was going to happen in less than two days and we couldn’t find anyone to help and I was seriously considering calling in some kind of bomb threat or something to get people away from the docks, at least.

And then, about eighteen hours out, it just… went away.

Which never, ever happens.

My powers might be short range, but they’re reliable. I don’t get stuff wrong, and I hadn’t been able to find any way to prevent what was going to happen, or even been able to identify anyone who could. But someone did. Someone had done something to stop the threat, something that happened literally while I was opening my car door. When I reached for the handle, thousands of people were going to die. By the time the door was open, there was no threat at all.

At first I thought it must have been a ranged thing. Like, whatever I’d been seeing (all those teeth, I saw them in nightmares for months after) had been distracted by something tasty on its way here and gotten off track, that it’d come up somewhere up or down the coast. My range isn’t that big, either. Anything outside about thirty miles might as well be on Mars for all I know about it. So we kept a watch out, and warned the chapters of the Union and the Agency in other cities.

But nothing happened. Nothing at all. I couldn’t explain it, and I was really unpopular for a while. Supers do NOT like people who cry wolf. There’s enough freaky shit we have to deal with without someone panicking everyone with a dire prophecy that fizzles out.

Thank all the gods that Tunny showed up. Nobody’s really sure what Tunny actually is - sentient fish creature, some kind of really mutated human, an alien, or what. She changes her story a lot. But she’s pretty friendly, especially for a twenty-foot-long horror-movie-mermaid-thing with four arms, so when she came into harbor to pick up some supplies a guy from the Agency went out to tell her what I’d seen. I’d gotten a wharf and dock number, so she went down to check.

I don’t think anyone had ever seen Tunny scared before. Her English wasn’t good enough to really explain what she’d found hibernating down there, but it was something very old and very powerful and very dangerous, and if it’d been woken up my vision would just have been the start of the crisis.

She rounded up a bunch of whales to help her move it, once she was sure it hadn’t been agitated and wasn’t likely to rouse if moved carefully. They towed it out before dawn, not wanting to scare the civilians, and when I saw the footage from the helicopter the Union sent up, when I saw how big the swell was, how many whales were pulling, I swear I nearly crapped myself. No wonder I’d been getting hints a week in advance. Somehow we dumbass humans had built a whole fucking city almost on top of some kind of Ancient Old… THING, and eroded the sea-bottom until it was exposed, and if someone hadn’t done whatever it was we’d all have been dead long before Tunny arrived. And not just all as in ‘all of Nova Roma’, it could have taken out half of the continent... or all of it.

It took me years to find out what happened. YEARS. It turned into a kind of hobby, tracking everything that might possibly have come into contact with Wharf 38 on that particular day.  

And what I found, eventually, was a city employee named Thomas Briggs.

I’d found out early on that 38 wasn’t in good repair. Not that bad, but not great. It was old, things were getting a bit saggy in a few places, but there’d been no sign that anything was likely to fall off on the day. It had sat there for a couple of years after the crisis that never happened,, doing its job without problems then been rebuilt without any drama at all.

Entirely, completely, and totally because of Thomas Briggs.

The story, when I finally pieced it together, went like this.

There’d been some project or other to build some sort of high-budget science project over on the other side of the harbor, hanging it off’ve Pier 8, the furthest out on that side. Something about tracking sea-life or ships or something. My conversational English is near perfect, I’ve been here for years, but I don’t speak science nerd in ANY language. It’d all been approved, some university was covering most of the cost, it was all gonna be fine. And it was gonna be over on 8 because that side of the harbor is the shallow end. It’s where the sailboats go. All the big stuff that would block visual sensors and deafen the thing with engine noise was over in the thirties, in the real deep water.

They were almost ready to install the thing when a bunch of rich dudes suddenly got their panties in a bunch over having a big sciency tower thing ruining the view from their yachts, and tried to get it moved.

To, and I’m sure you guessed this, Wharf 38.

Which was completely insane. It wouldn’t be able to do its job over there, it’d be way more in the way, and (although they couldn’t have known it) the installation would definitely have woken up the Thing sleeping by the wharf and we all would have died. But rich dudes with yachts don’t care about that stuff. They’d bitched out and bribed up their friends on the city council, and those friends had done their thing, and the scientists had been left in the dark, and it’d almost gone through. They’d figured to install it right away, so that when the science guys found out it’d be too late and they’d either have to pay a lot to move it or just use it where it was.

Enter Thomas Briggs.

Mr Briggs, Tom to his friends, didn’t give a crap about the yachts or the science. He was a senior money guy for the commercial wharfs, the one who figured out things like how much money they’d take in in a quarter, and what the repair budget should be, stuff like that. He found out about this thing two days before the disaster would have happened, and sat down and did the math.

Then he sent out an email to the guys trying to push this through, and he ripped into them like they’d threatened to knife his mother. I got my hands on that email, and I didn’t understand a lot of it any more than the council guys would have. It was ALL numbers. But at the top he wrote it out in plain English. Pier 8 was new, and rated to handle the weight of the thingy. Wharf 38 was going to be scrapped in a few years, and it was NOT rated for that kind of structure. Pier 8 had plenty of room around it. Wharf 38 was already a tight fit for the big commercial ships, and adding a structure sticking out on one side would block off at least half of the wharf to those ships completely.

Bottom line, putting the thing on Wharf 38 would cost the city hundreds of thousands of dollars more per year than putting it on 8, AND the city would have to eat the cost if 38 collapsed under it which it could easily do, AND the city would have to pay to move it in a couple of years anyway when 38 was due to be rebuilt.

And he cc-ed every important person he had an email address for, including the mayor, the anti-corruption people, and several reporters.

He must have sent that email right when I was opening my car door.

The whole plan collapsed right there, and some people got fired. There was no news story because the whole plan got killed before the reporters even got to the right office. The installation was started on Wharf 8 a few weeks later and I never connected it to a commercial wharf on the other side of the harbor.

One email, and a man who I never could have located in time, a man who had no powers at all, a man who was just conscientiously doing his job looking after the city’s money saved the city, and the continent, and maybe even the world.

Who could have predicted that? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

I can’t deny that I went home and got drunk off my ass that night. Just thinking about how close that had been made my hands shake. One man. One honest man who’d done the math.

I put the word out, once the hangover wore off. What had happened. That Thomas Briggs was the reason we were all alive and everyone better make his life real nice from now on, because he’d done what none of us could do and nobody but the supers would ever even know it.

He’s got a lot of luck coming to him, I can tell you. We don’t forget debts like that.

And I knew that’d freak him out, because honest men don’t like it when people start doing them a lot of favors for no apparent reason, so I tracked him down at the little bar where he likes to have a quiet beer on Friday nights before he goes home. Hell, I was the one who’d gone through it all, back then. I should get to tell him.

I sat down beside him at the bar and looked at him. I saw a thin, small, balding man who looked like he worried too much and didn’t get enough sleep, with lines around his eyes. Yeah, he looked like a man who’d do the math. “Thomas Briggs?”

He blinked at me through his glasses. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t. My name’s Barkhado Omar, and I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” I offered him my hand and he shook it, still looking confused. Which was fair, ‘cause I doubt a lot of seven foot tall Somali women came up to him in bars even when he was young. He’s got to be close to retirement now.

He frowned. “Looking for me? Why?”

I smiled at him. “Tom, let me buy you a drink and tell you about the day you saved the world.”

It’s usually us who save the city, or the world. We have all the intel, all the advantages, all the powers.

But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s someone like Tom Briggs, doing the right thing at the right time and never knowing that he changed the course of history.

Wild, huh?

--

This story is a direct result of me and my ex chatting about how different the entire Marvel Universe would have been if Jean’s first ‘resurrection’ - being found in a life pod under a wharf, IIRC - had happened at like... any other time. Earlier. Later. It would have changed SO MUCH.

And we speculated about how it could happen, how someone just puttering around in middle management might have unknowingly saved countless lives, prevented Madelyne’s corruption, the legacy virus, all of it, just by postponing that particular set of repairs a bit longer.... and I couldn’t resist writing a version of the story in which Tom does, in fact, save the world.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

so literally eight years ago i posted a snippet of a modern retelling of Much Ado About Nothing set in a student co-op and for no particular reason, the concept is tickling my brain right now. so uh here, have this? i guess?

“So, Ursula, my dear,” said Lee, taking the seat across from her at the dinner table. “My fluffy little crumpet. My buttery brioche bun. My tangy slice of pumpernickel—”

Ursula squinted up from her Anthro reading. “Uh-oh,” she said. “You only call me bread when I’m in trouble.”

“Happened to glance at the meeting notes this morning,” Lee continued, her voice rising. “You’ve got anything you wanna explain or defend?”

Ursula flicked her highlighter from one finger to the other, determined to play it cool. “I think it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Which meeting notes, exactly, were you glancing at?” She peeked out of the corner of her eye to check how this was going down. 

Poorly. 

Lee stared at her, apparently at a loss for words, which was not a great look for the house president.

“You did this more than once.”

“I take notes every meeting, Lee,” she said, as levelly as possible given how Lee’s ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ Mom vibes were oozing from every pore. “It’s my job, as house secretary.”

“Is it?” said Lee tightly. “Is it your job?” She whisked opened her laptop and read aloud: 

“Benedick’s eyes blazed with passionate fury. His nostrils quivered. ‘Well,’ he said in a low growl, hair resplendent under the environmentally friendly fluorescent lights, ‘personally, I think if anything, there's not ENOUGH lentils—’ Beatrice gasped. It was so wrong, and yet…”

Ursula winced. “‘Said in a low growl’ is wordy. I should’ve just put ‘growled’.”

Lee pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ursula,” she began, “just how much of our official co-op house notes, which by the way are formally submitted each month to the Co-op Board, are written as if Benedick and Beatrice’s stupid arguments are some kind of torrid Harlequin paperback?”

“That depends.” Ursula steepled her fingers, dropping the highlighter in the process. “How much of my notes do you have access to?”

“All of them,” Lee gritted out. “Because they’re public. That’s what I’m saying.”

 “Look,” said Ursula. “I don’t think I said this when I ran, but I wanted to be house secretary in the first place because a lot of the time, taking notes is the only way I can make myself concentrate. I would literally be taking notes during the meeting anyway. It’s an ADHD thing.” 

Ursula sighed. “And pretty early on, it became clear that meetings in Messina House are basically just a Sexual Tension Thunderdome for Benedick and Beatrice. They go back and forth for pages sometimes. I can feel every electrical connection in my brain fighting to zone out. So yeah. For a while I rewrote their fights as rhymed couplets, for a very short bit of time I had Balthazar set them to sea shanties, and since last December, I’ve been transcribing very close to their actual words, with very close to their actual intentions, plus just a tiny bit of genre trimmings. If they’re gonna waste my Saturday and test my focus, I’m doing what I can to stay awake and keep my typing fingers limber. I’m up to 75 WPM, by the way.”

“December?” Lee repeated. “Ursula, it’s October. You’ve been doing this for over a semester?” A terrible wave of realization seemed to sweep over her just then, regarding the general pacing and content of a standard Harlequin. “Please tell me,” she whispered, “there is no sex in the meeting notes—”

“There’s no sex in the meeting notes,” Ursula interrupted. “Per se,” she added under her breath.

Lee’s lips were pressed together into a thin line. “One year,” she said. “I want one year where nobody drives a motorcycle down the hallway or accidentally mixes up chlorine gas during their bathroom clean, or spends almost a full calendar year slipping smut into the public record—!”

“Excuse you,” said Ursula. “Smut’s a different genre altogether. This is romance. Slow-burn, enemies to lovers.”

Lee threw up her hands, nearly knocking over her laptop. “What are you gonna do if Benedick or Beatrice sees this?” “Oh.” Ursula froze. “Uh-oh.”

“Yeah, uh-oh,” she said. “Look, clearly there’s only one thing to do.”

Ursula nodded. “Right, we have to execute a series of far-fetched shenanigans designed to turn those two fighting fish into a pair of cooing lovebirds, stat.”

“No,” said Lee. “What? No, you need to go back and rewrite all of—”

Pedro slid into the room in his socks. “Oh sweet, are we hooking up Benedick with Beatrice?”

“Hell yeah,” said Ursula. They high-fived.

Lee closed her laptop with a snap. “Ursula, what are the odds,” she said, “that you actually buckle down and rewrite all of the meeting notes to read like they were written in the genre of meeting notes?”

“Oh, like, zero,” said Ursula, as Pedro chimed in, 

“Yeah, that will not happen.”

Lee looked despairingly back and forth between Ursula and Pedro. “What do you think is the likelihood that playing love gods will like, actually, genuinely work?”

“Twenty percent,” said Ursula.

Margaret glanced up from the other end of the table, where she was gluing together a collage of every restaurant on campus that had ever given her food poisoning. It was for class, was the thing.

Art school kids, man.

“We’re tricking Benedick and Beatrice into giving themselves over to their intense chemistry?” asked Margaret.

“Thirty percent,” said Ursula, because Margaret was inscrutable much of the time but surely they would have a fighting chance with more of the Humanities on their side.

At “intense chemistry,” Lee shuddered. “That reminds me,” she said, standing and scooping up her laptop, “I need to post a sign in the basement bathroom warning people not to mix bleach with acid.”

“Are you in?” said Pedro as Lee attempted to slip out the door. “Love Gods?”

“Jesus Christ,” said Lee.

“Not a love god,” Margaret announced. She had found the sequins, and was applying them with enthusiasm. “Except in the general Peace on Earth sense, I guess.”

“I’m texting Hero,” said Ursula, digging for her phone. “She knows Beatrice better than anyone. She’ll have tips. That puts our potential success rate at 45%, easy.”

“If we’ve got Hero, we’ve got Claudia,” Pedro added. “And she’s been BFF with Benedick since freshman year.”

“This is a terrible plan,” Lee muttered. “Yeah,” said Ursula, “but you implied it yourself. If, uh, certain parties see my meeting notes, they will murder me. Do you really want a fellow co-oper’s blood on your hands?”

Just then, Benedick burst into the room, Beatrice on his heels.

“I’m sorry,” Beatrice shouted, “are you genuinely trying to argue that soybeans are the superior legume? Soybeans? Over chickpeas? Over kidney beans? Hell, over peas?”

“Soy milk,” said Benedick, counting on his fingers, “silken tofu, miso, tempeh, firm tofu—”

Beatrice took a step closer to him, eyes flashing, “I have never in my life had tempeh that tasted like anything other than an evil Cliff Bar.”

“It’s not my fault your tastebuds were installed backwards,” said Benedick. “This from the woman who still, in the year of some people’s lord 2024, thinks lattes are ‘too trendy’—”

“Espresso is a waste of coffee grounds,” said Beatrice in a low, dangerous voice.

Benedick gasped. “You take that back.”

Beatrice took a step closer. “Coldbrew has more flavor and more caffeine.”

“Coldbrew,” Benedick echoed, stepping even closer. “You’re defending that swill over a nice mocha? Get latte’s name out of your mouth.”

Benedick and Beatrice were standing almost nose to nose, breathing hard.

“You know what?” said Lee from the door. “Ursula? Fuck it, I’m in.”

Ursula whooped. Margaret reached for the glitter glue. Benedick and Beatrice visibly both ran through their mental rolodexes of coffee-related insults. 

From the entryway came the distant revving of a motorcycle engine. Borachio was no doubt doing wheelies in the foyer again, but that was a problem for house presidents, not innocent house secretaries who had done no wrong, thought Ursula as she returned to her reading and her growing mental to-do list.

[howtotrainyouragents]

Folding Laundry, Spy x Family mini fic

Decipher the intercepted report. Prepare intel for Handler. Pick up groceries. Loid ran through his seemingly endless list of tasks, calculating each step of execution and strategizing on the most efficient plan of action. But when he set the laundry to fold on the couch, Yor appeared with a smile.

“Let me help with that.”

It would take two minutes and thirty seconds to fold it himself, and he only had three minutes to spare on this mountain of clothes before he had to start on his patient files. But Yor was humming a tune as she started separating the clothes, and, after a moment, he sat down beside her and quietly started folding. 

The afternoon sun streamed in, warm and fuzzy. Bond yawned disinterestedly at them and shuffled into Anya’s room. Sitting so close to Yor, Loid wondered again why she never seemed to wear perfume. 

Focus. Like any operation, Operation Strix could collapse in an instant if he wasn’t vigilant.  There was the slightest tension in Yor’s shoulders, a slight discomfort or unsureness, that he’d noticed before in these very quiet moments. 

“Do you miss your life before this?” He asked, blunt in a way that only a moment like this could allow.

She looked up, surprised. Her eyes drifted to the window as she absently smoothed the creases in Anya’s frock. Loid found his next breath hinged on her answer.

“In an odd way, yes.” 

He knew it. Operation Strix was in danger.  He had to find out more, a way to fix this. He had to keep this fake family happy for the sake of world peace.  

Yor continued on. “After my brother and I came to the city, I was by myself. I kept a small apartment. Just a bed, a kettle, a few clothes. I didn’t go out much, didn’t have friends really.  Yuri would visit, of course, but he was busy with work.” 

Loid tried to picture this life and found a familiar echoing pang. “That sounds lonely.”

Yor shrugged. “It was all I knew. Pain doesn’t feel like pain when it’s all you know. But this?” She looked around, noticing the room and him in the same way he’d done. “This is unfamiliar. And that’s harder.” 

Her eyes widened, and red colored her cheeks. “Not to say that I don’t want this or- or I’m not grateful!” She rushed to explain. “This is arrangement has been the best thing to happen. It’s just…”

“New?” Loid supplied, though it wasn’t quite the right word.

She hurried through the folding, and a moment later, nervously asked, “Do you miss your life before this? I mean- I mean, before Anya and your first wife?”

Loid slowly buttoned the shirt he was folding. He remembered the brutal military camp he infiltrated to get close to an officer. The snooty soirée to seduce the minister’s daughter.  The loud explosions of the battlefield.

“There wasn’t much of a life before,” he admitted.

She nodded gently, and the slight tension in her shoulders eased. And to Loid’s surprise, so in his. They folded the rest of the clothes, taking in the warm sun and noises from the street. 

He gathered his clothes and she took the rest to hers and Anya’s rooms. Putting them away, he ran through his list of things to do again. He’d wasted too much time. He still had to prepare reports and patient files and get dinner. But the buzzing, stomach-turning anxiousness to get everything done had quieted, and that left him nervous and paranoid.

 So when he heard a ruckus, he rushed to Anya’s room, grateful for something to snap him out of this calm. 

Anya had gleefully seized Yor’s interruption to abandon homework and was playing spy with Bond and her toys.

“But Agent Anya, what about your homework mission?” Yor cried in her TV-spy voice. 

“The mission is in trouble! Agent Anya needs hot coca to save the day!” Bond borfed. “And cookies!”

“Okay, if Agent Papa says it’s okay to take a break,” Yor said, turning to him standing in the doorway.

“Agent Papa!” Anya saluted. “Hot cocoa and cookies!” 

Their eyes were shining bright in excitement. Bond wagged his tail. The house wasn’t just warm with the afternoon, but with the joy of this little fake family.

Loid remembered the cold of the military camp sinking deep beneath his clothes, leaving him freezing and sick. He remembered the bitter bile taste of choking back his words when highbrow ministers spewed hateful words.  He could feel the splintery wood of the makeshift cot as he lay at night, waiting for bullets to rain down on them in the morning. 

He put on his best impression of Handler for his waiting family, but he suddenly understood what Yor was talking about. All of his past lives were hard. Terrifying even. 

But not as terrifying as this. 

[jellalism]

Genshin men x Reader: Telling the secret

You tell him you’re interested in people of the same gender. How does he react?

Characters: Albedo – Alhaitham – Ayato – Baizhu – Chongyun – Childe – Diluc – Gorou – Heizou – Itto – Kaveh – Kazuha – Kaeya – Tighnari – Venti – Wanderer – Wriothesley – Xiao – Zhongli

Genre: Comfort

Reader's gender: Gender neutral

Word count: 1345

Content warnings: None

Notes: For the purposes of this fic, I take every character here to be straight but supportive. Except Baizhu; I cannot for the life of me imagine him as heterosexual. I put ‘gay’ in between brackets; you can replace it in your mind with whatever your sexuality is. All the characters' reactions are platonic.

Read below or on AO3.

Albedo’s expression doesn’t change. “I see. I’ve heard of people like that. I never had the opportunity to meet one, however… Until you, apparently.”

“Maybe you’ve met one before, and you just didn’t know it?”

He smiles. “You’re right, I shouldn’t make assumptions. In any case, thank you for trusting me with this. That means a lot.”

Alhaitham is unfazed as he looks up from his book. “Okay. I imagine you may be worried about my reaction. But you don’t need to be. I think those who judge others for something harmless like loving someone of the same gender are foolish.” He says it matter-of-factly, like there is no doubt in the world.

“Thanks,” you say and sigh from relief.

“No need to thank me,” he says as he turns towards his book again. “Like I said, it’s foolish to judge people for being [gay]. I’m just doing the bare minimum.”

“But still... you take the effort to reassure me. Thank you.”

He looks up again and gazes at your face for a few moments. “Maybe I underestimated how much this means to you.” He closes his book, makes his way towards you and pulls you into a hug. “You’re a friend of mine. Don’t forget that. If anyone in the Akademiya gives you trouble over your sexuality, let me know. I can cause trouble in return.”

“That’s quite unusual, isn’t it?” says Ayato. “But unusual doesn’t mean wrong. Everyone has their own tastes. I hope you can find someone who makes you happy. And if you need help finding someone, let me know. I think it might be fun to play matchmaker.” He smiles mischievously. It might be prudent not to let him choose a date for you.

Baizhu looks relieved. “Well, finally you told me. Doesn’t it feel like a relief? You know, it’s not healthy to keep all kinds of secrets bottled up.”

“I know, but… this isn’t something easy to share.”

“Oh, I know, y/n. I’m gay myself, but it’s something I’ve learned not to share with just anyone. It makes my work easier. In any case,” he continues, “thank you for trusting me. I think this brought us closer together, hasn’t it?”

Chongyun looks surprised. “That’s possible? I didn’t even know! That’s so cool!” His eyes are full of excitement and curiosity. “How did you know? And do you have a partner?” He wants to know all about it.

After a while, you have to explain to him that some people are homophobic, and that he needs to keep your sexuality a secret. “People think it’s bad to love someone, just because the other person is of the same gender? That’s absurd. Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret!”

“I didn’t see that coming, comrade, but don’t worry!” Childe winks. “You won’t get any judgment from me. And besides, a bond of comradeship isn’t broken so easily.” He ruffles your hair. “You’ll be stuck with me for a long time.”

Diluc weighs his words carefully and takes a few moments before he starts speaking. “Thank you for telling me this, y/n. I can see that it means a lot to you, and I don’t take your trust in me lightly. Your secret is safe. And—” he takes the time to choose his words carefully “—I don’t judge you, of course. You’re a dear friend, and this won’t change that.”

Gorou is a little surprised, but not much. “Don’t worry about it! I’m an army general, homosexuality abounds here. If I were homophobic, the army would be the wrong place for me,” he says with a chuckle. “That said, not everyone got the memo. Even here there’s plenty of homophobes. But if anyone gives you trouble, let me know. I’ll be sure to have a stern word with them.” He stands up straight, full of confidence. Gorou really is someone you can count on.

Heizou saw it coming. “A little bit of intuition already told me that much. But I didn’t want to creep you out by letting you know earlier. And don’t worry about it: I haven’t told anyone, of course. I’ll keep any secret for you. Except criminal ones.”

“That’s just one more reason you’re always welcome in the Arataki gang,” Itto says enthusiastically. “We’re made up of outcasts! We welcome anyone who’s gone through hard times. And you, compadre, definitely qualify.” Before you know it, he wraps you in a tight hug.

Kaveh seems completely fine. “That’s beautiful. Love is a beautiful thing. You know, I really admire people like you. In loving the same gender despite what other people think, there’s a certain dedication to love.”

Your face flushes.

“Aww, are you embarrassed? No need to be.” He steps towards you and hugs you gently. “Thank you for telling me. You’re amazing, you know that?”

Kazuha doesn’t say a word, just immediately goes in for the hug. His mouth close to your ear, he softly says: “I hear in your voice that it’s been weighing on you. I’m sorry that you had to carry that on your own. I wish I could’ve borne it with you.” He gently rubs your back to reassure you. Everything about his reaction is full of love and warmth, and your tears threaten to spill over.

“Ah, I see.” Kaeya has a mischievous expression and seems on the verge of making a teasing comment. But when he looks at your anxious face, he becomes more serious and concerned. “This… has been hard for you, hasn’t it? I’m glad you told me, y/n. You’re a dear friend of mine, and your trust in me only makes our bond stronger, if you ask me.”

Tighnari is quite direct about it. “Don’t worry, I’m not homophobic. I’m a forest ranger and a scholar from Amurta. If anyone knows just how natural homosexuality is, it’s me. Does that alleviate your fears?”

“What, you think the God of Freedom would somehow have restrictive ideas about sexuality? Absolutely not.” Venti shakes his head vigorously, as if mere words are not enough to dispel the notion. “In fact, I know some songs about same-gender lovers.” And he strikes a chord on his lyre, starting a song.

Wanderer does not care one way or another. “Oh, so you’re like that? Well, it doesn’t concern me. You can just do whatever you like.”

“But…” You want to say something, but the words don’t seem to come.

“What?” He seems annoyed. “I won’t spill your secret to anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not like I’d have anyone to spill it to, even if I wanted to.” Then, with a softer voice: “You’re one of the few people who cares to spend time with me, after all.” You’re not sure you were supposed to hear that.

“Ah, I see. So that’s what has been weighing on you. I had been wondering.” Wriothesley says matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry to hear you didn’t feel safe enough to tell me until now. But I’m glad you told me now. I won’t betray your trust; you can count on me.” His expression tells you all you need to know: it’s full of love for you.

Xiao has lived a long time and seen many things. “It’s ridiculous to me that some mortals still have not gotten over the fact that some people are [gay],” he says, gazing out over the Guili Plains. He turns to face you, looking you straight in the eye with his intense gaze. “Listen to me. You did not deserve the hardships that people have given you over this. If anyone bothers you, let me know. They will listen to an adeptus.”

Zhongli places his hand on top of your head in a reassuring way. “I was aware some worry was weighing you down, but I did not know what it was. Worry not; things such as this don’t faze me.” He places a kiss on your forehead. “Love is beautiful, so I would never wish to oppose that. If ever you encounter trouble, you can depend on me.”

[0phantom0]

If only... E.W

pairings~ suicidalellie ×reader

warnings~ self harm, suicide, bipolar disorder, addiction. ( I have experience with all of these things so I'm not writing off stereotypes.)

summary~ after meeting ellie your life seems to have turned completely upside down in the best way possible, everything is going great until ellie has a sudden change of mood.

my breath lingered in the air, causing condensation to cover my cold phone. I was wordlessly staring at Ellie's contact. She had still not opened my message after three days of it being sent. I didnt even care about her replying anymore, I just needed a sign to say she was okay. Anything. whether it being a notification that she had read my message, or even the app saying that she was online. I waited. I waited more. Nothing, nothing at all. I started to feel a deep sorrow filling my lungs, like a dark murky water infested with everything i feared. it felt like it was flooding my entire body, that i was nothing but a hole of pain and helplessness.

When i first met Ellie, she was like a light in my foggy life, like a new path of happiness, something I had been searching for my entire life. She would always be there, right by my side with that gorgeous smile on her face, ready to crack one of her stupid dad jokes to hear the sound of my laugh echo through her ears. But for the past few weeks, I began to feel less of Ellie's presence. Almost as if that light guiding the path was flickering, dimming, losing its spark.

She had told me about her past. How she had problems communicating when things were getting bag again, having trouble explaining why she did what she did. Of course there was always a scientific explaination to Ellies pain, but she said that it didnt really explain in detail how she felt, the words on the screen didn't strike her with relisation and emotion. They were just letters.

my phone had turned off now, leaving me alone in the dark cold room of my house. the only thing warm about anything was the tears running out of my eyes and down my neck, creating an uncomfortable feeling of them dampening my shirt. My breathing quickend, feeling as though my lungs could not fill enough with all the air I had to suck in. Gripping my shirt, I stood up, shaking slightly from the sudden pace of movement. All the the thoughts flooding to my head, to many to keep up with, my brain speeding through visions of the mabye futre, and past. I was putting myself in horrific scenearios. And then it hit me. The ding of my phone, the slight, normally quiet sound was now like an ominous siren, screaming, daring me to pick up the phone. my shaking hand slowly edged towards the edge of my bed, I cautiously handled the device, almost as if in one wrong move it would shatter.

' one new notification from 'Ells<3''

my heart plummeted back into place a small smile that didnt quite reach my eyes found its way back onto my face. My fingers,shuddering slightly from the sudden adrenaline, move quickly across the screen trying to type in my password. Once I did I was exitedly clicking onto her contact, only for my exitment to be short lived and immediately replaced with worry and disatisfacation, for the uncanny message I got was:

' Ells<3 deleted a message'

I study the new words on my screen, waiting to discover something upon the message. My brain replied with a short message of

'?, you okay Ellie?'

she was quick to reply, supposing that she had been waiting there on the othere line for my answer.

' mhm. just love you'

usually I would have been quite flustered with the small message but in this instance it had a deeper, dispondent meaning. I was worrid. Terrifed even, then it hit me. Everything hit me. The way she had started to wear longer sleeves instead of her beloved band t-shirts, the unusual case of her sharpeners missing the blade, how she had been disancing herself with me. everything registers in my head, all the missing peices to these scatterd visuals.

panic took over my body as my vision clouded slightly, my heart felt heavy as my brain did not. withought registering what I was doing my legs were already on the move. clumsily walking towards my front door and grabbing my car keys. I left my door open, there was no time to shut it for what might come. My hands harshly squeezing the sharp edge of the keys, leaving a small irritated mark on my palm as I pressed random buttoms on the device, trying to unlock my car door.

minutes passed. I was driving as fast as I possibly could without death, but yet it did not seem fast enough. The pace of my breathing rapid as I tried to recall the route to Ellie's house. my face was still but slightly paniced as tears poured out of my eyes and into my open mouth. My heart felt small yet big at the same time, like it was being streatched and sprawled to withstand all the pain and dispair it was recieiving.

as I pulled up to Ellie's house, I instantly opend my car door and flung myself out with a newfound urgency, not bothering to get into a safer parking space instead of in the centre of the road. I was sobbing, almost screaming hystericlly now trying to search for Ellie's spare key she always left under the door matt. A vision clouded my memory of Ellie and I standing drunkenly at the front porch of her home, we were laughing as she scurried to show me her 'awesome' hiding space for her dinosour shaped key she got custom designed for herself. Mabye if my past self saw myself now, trying to break down the door because I couldnt remember where she kept that stupid fucking key, I might of avoided the relationship entirely, or made it her life mission to do anything she could to stop Ellie from having another episode.

I snapped back into reality as the door swung open, my right shoulder now cut and bleeding from the repetitive impact onto the door, I rush across her kitchen and up the stairs, screaming Ellies name, the words now sounding forgein on my tounge, I could feel the desperation of my voice. The vibrations of the sounds itching and clawing at my throat, all while I grasped at the railings of the staircase, hauling myself upstairs.

I turned every corner I could, trying to be as silet as I could as I heard my weeping echo through the hauls. I heard a quiet buzz from the bathroom light across the hall, the yellow hues and tones illuminating the dark and eerie walls. I vigilantly tread through to the bathroom as I peaked my head throught the door.

at first I saw nothing, then the small strands of auburn hair floating from the bathtub caught my attention.

My breath hitched as I called out her name.

No repsonse. But I still heard a wavering and asthamtic breath.

I rushed towards her side, yanking the shower curtain off the rod in the process, I was met with the sight that would always be in the back of my mind, waiting to pounce as soon as I kept my gaurd down, that would keep me up at night screaming till my lungs bled and clawing at my skin.

Ellie layed there, bleeding out into the drain of the bath tub, with a pale face and cold skin, deep cuts carved into her arms with a bottle of ketamine empty, laying there, mocking me by her side.

I shrieked louder for anyone to hear, I was no longer breathing instead bawling and seize my phone from behind me, calling 911.

as I press the call button my my phone with my shaking hands, still sobbing hystericaly as my clothes were now soaked with the salty liquid I felt her cold hand touch mine.

' Hello 911 whats your emerancy?' I heard the dispatchers fuzzy voice from my phone as I dropped it to the floor, my entire attention on the fact Ellies hand was rubbing against mine. I was silent, too shocked an hurt to say anything at all.

'its okay baby' she whisperd and splutterd, she tried to reach her hand to caress my face one last time before I saw death take over her eyes and her hand drop with a thud against the bathtub.

I yelled and screamed and cried, trying to get anyone to bring her back to me, trying to convince myself that she was messing with me, thats she was okay really and not like the sight I had unfolded infront of me.

'sweetheart is everything okay? Police and Ambulence are on their way'

I didn't respond grasping at everything I could to steady myself as my hysterics rocked my body, smearing tearss and blood, everything I could pick up was thrown, smashed glass and everything everywhere, my head felt unsteady as I smacked it off the sink and everything went dark.

to this day I still wonder if I wasn't enought to make her stay, If I wasn't enough to fill the hole in her heart, she filled mine, but why couldn't I do the same.

if only life hadn't planned out this way, she might be here in my arms, blabbering on about her space facts she loved so dearly.

if only.

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

A/N: Hi guys! sorry i just dumped all that on you. I sobbed while making this but at the same time it was so relaxing.

tags: @twoshadesblonder @bready101

[saphronethaleph]

Backpack Bnuuy

“Your training,” Yoda warned. “You must complete your training!”

“The whole point is-” Luke began, biting off the words. “Look, I know it’s a trap, but my friends are in trouble! The reason why it’s a good trap is that it’s going to work, and it’s going to work because I won’t abandon my friends. I don’t want to be someone who would abandon my friends.”

Yoda looked thoughtful.

“A good point, you make,” he conceded. “Still. Face Vader alone, you must not.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Luke objected.

“A choice, there always is,” Yoda chided. “A good choice, less often. However…”

His cane swung up to point at Luke. “Wait there.”

Luke stood there as instructed, confused, then glanced at Ben’s spirit.

“Do you know what this means?” he asked. “Was he always this odd?”

“Not really, no,” Ben replied. “He’s really been able to focus in the last few months.”

Yoda came back out of his hut, holding a fuzzy animal.

“Here,” he said, putting it down. “A travel sized Jedi Master, this is.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that, Master,” the animal replied, shaking out his long ears. “Good day. I am Master Ikrit.”

“Small enough to fit in your ship, he is!” Yoda said, with a nod. “A pacifist, he also is.”

“I can explain myself, Master,” Ikrit replied.

“...have you been there all along?” Luke asked.

“I was actually on Yavin Four,” Ikrit said. “Meditating on the Force. I… lost track of time a bit.”

“Missing for four hundred years, you were,” Yoda pointed out.

“I said I was sorry, Master,” Ikrit replied. “I did skip the whole… massacre thing, though.”

His tail flicked slightly, then he launched himself in a Force-guided leap that placed him neatly on Luke’s shoulders.

“As my old teacher says, I am a pacifist,” the lapine-feline Jedi Master said. “Fortunately, the World Between Worlds does not involve violence. Do you have a backpack?”

Luke blinked, confused.

“...a backpack?” he repeated, carefully.

“I will be your emergency evacuation mechanism,” Ikrit told him. “Through my four hundred years of meditation on the Force, I became aware of the ways in which distance itself is an illusion. A very persistent illusion, to be sure, but I can take you from one place to another in an instant.”

His ear bounced. “...so long as I already know the destination, that is. Distance is an illusion, but getting lost is not. I only got here by following my padawan bond with Master Yoda.”

Luke still felt confused.

“What’s a padawan?” he asked.

“An old term, it is,” Yoda supplied. “A Jedi term. A term for the one who learns while a Knight or Master teaches.”

Around a day later, Yoda was humming to himself and cooking when there was a thump outside.

“Master?” Ikrit called. “Do you know how to heal? I’ve got Luke and his hand, but… there’s an and there.”

“Always rushing around, young kids these days are,” Yoda grumbled, taking his cane and stumping out of the house. “Lost, you did?”

“I don’t think so,” Luke replied, staring at the stump of his hand, then winced as Yoda began making passes over the gap and lifted his severed hand to intersect with the stump. “I lost the fight, but… Leia and the others escaped. I can feel it. I won.”

“Good,” Yoda said. “You did learn the lesson.”

“...does that whole process of going from world to world involve hallucinations?” Luke asked, looking at Ikrit and away from the healing process going on with his missing hand. “Because I swear I saw a really big wolf.”

“Oh, that’s Dume,” Ikrit said. “I’m… not really sure what’s up with him. He’s nice but I’ve not spoken to him much. I think he used to be human?”

His ears flicked. “Sorry I didn’t catch the lightsaber.”

“All right, that is,” Yoda said, firmly. “Make a new one, we will.”

He pointed his stick at Ikrit. “And then, take him to Yavin, you will. Get in touch with his friends from there, he should. Visitors, I do not want.”

[vashs-turtleneck]

Say my name.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Summary: After your heartfelt reunion with your boyfriend, Vash realizes how much he's missed hearing you say his name. Pairing: Eriks!Vash x fem!reader Word count: 6.5k Content: smut, angst, established relationship, oral, p in v sex, reunion sex, very service top Vash A/N: bro this took me so long. I put more effort into this than anything else I have ever written. Anyway, this is my first ever smut fic so uh please enjoy (had to make it eriks because he does things to my brain chemistry)

NSFW below, 18+ only, minors do not interact!

Vash holds your hand through the rickety, quaint house, helping guide you as you walk, avoiding the floorboards he knows creak louder than the others. As much as Granny and Lina adore you, he didn't feel like explaining why he was sneaking you in so late at night. Not only that, he didn't want to explain your relationship to them just yet. After all, the two of you haven't even gotten the chance to properly talk yet, about what your reunion after his two year absence means for you both.

Vash finally guides you into his little bedroom, quietly shutting and locking the door behind you two. He cringes at the how the door hinges creak loudly into the hallway, hoping it wasn't enough to wake anyone.

"So 'Eriks', huh? Did you pick the name all by yourself?" You tease him as your eyes dart around the room, taking in the space your lover has been living in these passed two years. Or... he was your lover. Is he still your lover? For all you know he found someone else during his time here. No, wait, that can't be right. He just snuck you into his bedroom.

Vash chuckles quietly, his gaze never leaving you. "Yeah... guess I did."

You can feel his eyes burrowing into you. His gaze follows you as you curiously take in the room, as you pat the bed draped in old linens, as you look out the window, taking in the scenery, the stars and moons illuminating the sky above. You've always had a tendency to look up at the sky.

God, you're as beautiful as he remembers.

He's pulled out of his own thoughts when you speak again, realizing he's been staring at you the whole time.

"Nice little spot you have all to yourself. Sheryl and Lina are both so sweet. They really do love you, I can tell. They're like family now, hm?" You say as your eyes finally meet his, your voice remaining soft, yet a hint of somberness weaving its way in. "You... You have a good life here."

You feel your heart start to beat faster, your head filling with a million questions that you're almost too scared to know the answers to. What if there was no room for you in his life anymore? What if he wanted to leave everything about his old self in the past, including you? What if, what if, what if...

You start to absentmindedly pick at the skin around your nails and rubbing your palms, subconsciously trying to calm and ground yourself. You're starting to lose yourself to your own mind, horrible thoughts filling your head like a poison.

Vash immediately notices the change in your tone, the subtle, shaky uncertainty in your voice, the way you anxiously play with your hands... Old habits die hard, huh?

"I do. The people here have been very kind to me. It's mostly quiet, apart from when I get myself into trouble. I'm grateful every day for it."

He takes a step towards you, his arms outstretched slightly.

"But, my life here is... incomplete without you by my side, mayfly."

He wants to hold you, feel your body against his, remind himself that you're really here, but he hesitates. What if you despise him for abandoning you? For leaving you behind to think he was dead? Worse, what if you hate him for the sins he's committed? For destroying July and taking the lives of its people? Not that he could ever blame you if you did. He hates himself for it. It's the whole reason he left you behind in the first place. How could he ever face you again after he became the walking demon with the 60 billion double dollar bounty on his head? He deserves every bit of venom spat his way for the things he's done, every bit of the nickname 'The Humanoid Typhoon'.

Yet, despite how much he knows he doesn't deserve you, he wants you so bad. Every moment without you had been agony. He didn't know where you were, how you were doing, if you were even alive. Hell, he wondered if he killed you in July too. So when he finally saw your face again, he swears he felt his heart beat for the first time in two years.

"Mayfly, I... I don't deserve you. I don't. I'm a monster." He takes another step towards you, trying to bridge the gap between you both. "...but I can't live without you. I... I need you. Here. With me."

He's fighting back tears, trying desperately to keep himself together. His vision is blurring from the tears pooling in his eyes, and all he can see is your wide-eyed expression. You're so beautiful, even if you might be about to break his heart.

"If you don't feel the same, I understand. If you want to hit me and yell at me for all I've done, I won't put up a fight. If... If you hate me-" Vash's words are cut short when you rush towards him and plant your lips against his in a feverish kiss, throwing your arms around his shoulders and clinging to him desperately.

Vash stays motionless and rigid in a moment of shock before he's flooded with relief at the feeling of your lips, your body, just you. His prosthetic naturally encircles your waist, pulling you in closer as his flesh hand tenderly cups your cheek, tilting your head to meet his lips with a practiced touch that makes it feels like you were never apart.

You became a shell of a person the day you watched him fall from the sky, like an angel stripped of their wings. You spent the passed two years believing, convincing yourself he had to be alive, or else you would have been lost completely.

With his lips finally pressed to yours, you feel whole again.

Vash can feel your lower lip tremble against his own, your tears mingling with his against both your faces as you each pull the other closer, closer, until there's no space left between your bodies, his stubble scratching your chin.

Your lips meet again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last, pants and sobs and the sounds of lips smacking filling the otherwise dead silent room.

"I missed you." You breathe against his lips, voice cracking from the overwhelming feelings of relief, love, and pain flooding you.

And Vash whines in turn, prosthetic tightening its grip around you.

"I missed you too. So much. Every day I thought about you." He whispers back, his voice strained, flesh hand pulling your face closer by the back of your neck. "I love you, I love you, I missed you."

"Love you too. Missed you so much..." Your voice comes out as a sob, trembling and broken. Your hands tangle into his soft locks. His hair is much longer now, the golden blonde mixing with dark raven.

You feel his tongue tease your lower lip, the warm muscle begging for entry, and you're happy to grant it. When your tongues entangle, he feels himself shudder with want, his body heating up as he gets reacquainted with the taste of your mouth. His hands move down your body, sliding down your waist, past your hips, and hooking themselves beneath the plush of your thighs. He lifts you up with ease, encircling your legs around his waist.

It's not close enough. He needs you closer.

He carries you to the edge of his bed, gently lowering you and as he towers over you, broad shoulders caging you in beneath him. He pulls himself from your lips and holds his weight on his hands, palms against the mattress beside your head. His face is flushed, lips wet with your kiss.

Vash is silent as he looks at your face, tears still staining his cheeks, his gaze reverent and adoring, yet filled with tragedy, like he almost doesn't believe you're real. His flesh hand cups your face again. His thumb traces your lips, your cheekbone, your jawline, his palm resting against your cheek. He takes in your features, committing the way your face has changed over the past two years to memory. You have new lines around your eyes, signs of how time kept passing for you, even without him around, signs of aging that he knows you won't see on his face. Fuck, he's lost this precious time with you, years he'll never be able to get back. Gone, just like that.

He'll be damned if he loses anymore time with you.

His hand trails down, thumb sliding along the side of your neck, down to the bit of your collarbone peeking from under your shirt. His breath hitches at the feeling of your soft skin beneath his hands, how your legs stay wrapped around his hips, your arms clinging to his shoulders like a lifeline. He can feel your body heating up at his touch, like it remembers him. He's missed you. He's missed your touch. So much.

"Please, I- I need to see you. Please." He begs, voice already breathless and needy.

"N-Need to see you too. I need you so much." Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine, but at this point you don't care. He's here. You have him again. You need him.

Vash wraps his prosthetic around your waist as he gently lifts your upper body up enough to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. With your shirt finally off, you can feel contrast of his arms on your body, the cool metal of one, and the warmth of the other.

"I missed you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for leaving you, mayfly. I'm so-"

You stifle his apologies with another hot kiss, your hands weaseling between your bodies and working quickly to take off his white button-up. Your fingers fumble with the buttons until his shirt is open, exposing the scarred muscles beneath. His hands leave you for just long enough to push the fabric off his shoulders. When his shirt is finally off, both his hands move to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another heated kiss, making you both groan into each other's mouths.

Your hands trail along his chest and back, tracing over the myriad of rough, raised flesh. Your touch is gentle, as though you're trying to heal him. He wishes you could. He wishes your touch could take away his 150 years of anguish, only made worse in your absence, and heal this body he's so carelessly destroyed. Yet, he knows he deserves every bit of it for what he's done. If nothing else, at least your touch is a momentary reprieve from it all, a moment for him to just be.

His hips twitch when he feels your hands trail down his chest, over his abdomen, to the hem of his pants, fingers working to undo his belt and buttons, working them off his body.

"M-Mayfly..." Vash mutters, his breath hot against your face. He works the rest of your clothes, practiced hands swiftly unclasping your bra before moving to peel off your pants, tossing the garments somewhere in the room, leaving you both in just your underwear.

Vash gently pushes your shoulders, moving you slowly like you're made of glass and laying you flat against the bed. He sits back on his knees to get a good look at you, propping himself between your thighs, his half-lidded eyes practically glowing as he drinks you in.

You're suddenly filled with this overwhelming shyness as you're laid almost completely bare in front of him. It's been so long since you've been looked at like this, and you can feel the heated rising to your face. Your body has naturally changed since he's last seen you, and the thought that he'll be disappointed weasels its way into your head, flooding you with insecurity. Without thinking about it, your hands move up to cover yourself, draping your arms over your chest and stomach.

Vash's gaze break from your body before darting up, his eyes softening when he sees your blushing and flustered face.

"Oh, sweetheart..." he coos, bringing himself down to pepper your face with soft kisses, stubble grazing your face. "Come on now. Don't hide from me. Please? I want to look at you. I love looking at you." His large hands gently wrap around your wrists, trying to coax you to uncover yourself. "Please. Let me see you. I missed looking at you so much."

Oh, how silly you are to think he'd look at you with anything but pure adoration and worship. He's only ever shown you love and acceptance, just as you have shown him. Vash can't even fathom the idea that you'd see yourself as anything other than breathtakingly perfect. Your body is his place of worship, every sound you make a prayer.

So, with a quiet whine, you let him pull your arms from your body, his hands gently pinning your wrists next to your head flat against the mattress.

"There you are..." Vash whispers adoringly, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose before leaning back again to look down at you.

He takes in the sight of you beneath him for the first time in two years, his hands letting go of your wrists and tracing up and down your curves slowly, savoring the feeling of your warm and soft flesh. The world hasn't been kind to you in his absence, your body baring new scars he knows weren't there before, and he hopes to God you didn't get all those looking for him, sacrificing yourself for his unworthy soul.

"So beautiful, mayfly." Vash purrs. His hands trail up your middle, up your sternum, before parting to grope your breasts, thumbs rolling over the perked buds. The act sends a wave of heat straight down between your legs, your hips involuntarily writhing against the bed. In turn, your reaction makes Vash suck in a breath, his hips gently grinding against the plush of your thigh, letting you feel his hardened cock.

You both need this. Badly.

"Mmph- you like that, huh, baby? That feel good?" Vash whispers, voice hoarse with desire as he circles his thumbs over your nipples again, this time rolling his hips right against your clothed sex.

You howl at the pleasure, hips bucking to meet his own. You bite your lower lip to muffle your cries, nodding your head up at your lover. "M-Mhmm!"

With a lewd grunt, Vash brings his head down, pressing his lips to your inviting body. He sucks on your neck, nibbling and licking slowly and sensually, finding the spots he remembers would make your breath hitch, your back arch, and your grip tighten around him. He lets out a deep groan against your neck when you react the way you used to, your voice pitching up to a needy, wanton moan when he sucks on your neck just right. You tangle your fingers in his hair as shivers dance up your spine, rolling your hips up against his.

He leaves a trail of kisses along your form, giving special attention to any scars he comes across along the way, just as you had done for him countless times before. His lips reach your chest, kissing along your sternum before moving his mouth to one of your breasts, his skillful lips enveloping your perked nipple, tongue circling the peak. His hand moves up to massage your other breast, kneading the soft flesh in his palm.

And you can only do what your body tells you to, your voice quivering into what only comes so naturally to you when he's worshipping your body like this.

"Vash." His name leaves your lips as a broken moan, but they hit him like a typhoon, shattering him to pieces.

Vash's body tenses, all his actions pausing as his lips part from your nipple with a quiet smack, his hot, ragged breaths against the wet skin of your breast. He tilts his head up, bringing his face closer to yours, letting your noses brush and his forehead press intimately against yours. His beautiful baby blues drink you in, eyes upturned into a longing, pleading stare. His eyes captivate you, trapping you under his gaze. From this close, you feel like you could drown in them.

"Please... Say it again." His voice is raw, fragile, and begging.

You have to blink yourself out of your trance, completely ensnared by him. Even though he's the one begging you right now, with that look on his face, you'd do anything he asked. So, without hesitation, you say it again.

"Vash."

And he whimpers.

A name he hasn't heard in two years, lost to his new life. A name that, despite the heavy weight it carries now, was gifted to him by someone very important. A name that has always rolled of your tongue with a softness he never felt he deserved, that he used to hear you cry out over and over when your voice was pulled taut with pleasure. His name.

He didn't realize how much he missed hearing it, and especially how it sounds leaving your lovely lips.

"Again. Please."

"Vash."

"One more time. I beg you."

"Vash."

Vash groans again, his eyes fluttering before pressing his lips to yours again, catching your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away.

"Mmph... Fuck, mayfly. The things you do to me."

His lips capture yours in a hot, wet kiss, tongues tangling, his hips undulating against yours and seeking out that little bit of friction between your bodies. He can feel the heat coming off your core against his hard cock, and his mouth waters as he thinks about how wet you must be right now.

"Need to taste you, mayfly."

Vash pulls back before he stands up between your legs and pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed, grinding himself against your thigh again. His fingers hook to the elastic of your panties, his eyes not missing the wet spot forming on them already before meeting your gaze again. "Let me take these off you, baby."

And fuck, you are absolutely reeling right now, barely able to form a thought as he continues to handle your body with so much care and deadly precision, like he know it better than you. And really, he does. Despite the time you two have spent apart, his confidence in his knowledge of your body and his desire to please you is naturally weaving its way back into his mind like it's pure instinct. You can't tear your eyes from him as he stares down at you with the darkened, hungry eyes of a man that looks like he's just found his first sip of water in days on No Man's Land.

He tilts his head as you stare at him silently, taking in your half-lidded, hazy eyes. His fingers unhook from your panties, palms resting against your thighs.

"Mayfly? Do you want me to? I won't do it unless you tell me to."

You whimper needily, shifting your hips back and forth, unintentionally teasing him as your body begs for more of him.

"Please. Please, Vash. I need you to touch me." You beg, your voice shaking. You need him right now, both body and mind begging him to do something, anything to ease the ache between your thighs.

With a smirk that flashes his sharp canines and sends another shivering wave of heat to your core, Vash swiftly pulls your panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor.

With you completely exposed to him now, Vash hooks his hands under your thighs, pressing your legs up and opening you up to himself, spreading you out on the mattress before him and watching as your slick drips from your sex as he practically folds you in half.

"Breathtaking." He purrs, staring down at your sweet flesh. "And so wet already."

"It's... It's because of you." You say back, your voice a pathetic, high-pitched whimper, feeling yourself pulse with anticipation.

Vash chuckles breathily, his eyes never leaving your sopping cunt as he lowers himself to his knees, propping himself between your thighs.

"I know it is."

With a soft sigh, Vash presses his tongue against your cunt, taking his time as his licks his way from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit, gathering your sweet juices on the flat of his tongue with an audible eagerness. His mouth presses a fiery kiss to your clit, his lips wrapping around your little sensitive bud as his tongue flicks it with a skillful precision that is downright deadly, like it's all muscle memory coming back to him in this moment, as though his place in this world is right here between your thighs.

For Vash, you truly are an oasis on this desolate planet. In a life that's been so lonely and so filled with tragedy, you have been a solace that he never felt he deserved, yet he selfishly let himself indulge in. After being by his lonesome for so long, how could he ever turn away from your open arms? You unconditionally loved and accepted his broken mind and tattered body, and he was never able to deny your affections, no matter how much he told himself he didn't deserve them.

You are the only piece of heaven he's ever had.

"Mmmh... Taste so good, angel." He coos against your sex, licking his lips of your slick before tonguing another stripe up your cunt. "It's been too long. I'm absolutely parched for you, baby."

"Oh fuck, Vash!" You gasp out, your hands moving to tangle through his two-toned hair, holding it back and away from his face. You can feel his stubble grazing your plush folds as he eats you.

"Say it again, mayfly." He mutters against your cunt, the vibrations from his voice sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you.

Your mind is a pleasure-filled haze. You're barely able to think as your lover positively devours you, gorging himself on your dripping sex like it's more for his own pleasure than it is for yours.

"Ahh... w-wha-?" You manage to mumble, barely understandable.

His head pops up from between your thighs, hungry baby blues staring back up at you.

"My name. Say my name again for me, angel. Please."

"V-Vash..."

He growls as he dives back down to your cunt, his tongue teasing your entrance as his nose presses against your clit.

"Say it softer. Please."

"Vash..."

"Say it louder."

"Vash!"

His hips rut against the mattress as he pleasures you, pathetically rubbing his still-clothed cock against the old linen in tandem with his mouth. He can feel his boxer-briefs soaking up the pre-cum from his engorged tip. His body is aching for you, but he'll be damned if he doesn't make you come on his tongue at least once before he fucks you. He needs to taste you as you come.

His right hand slowly trails up the soft meat of your thigh, fingers dancing along your hot skin until they reach your pulsing flesh, swirling his fingers over your wet heat. Then, he gently presses his middle finger inside you, the long digit curling and pressing against your warm walls, gently stretching you as he takes you apart from the inside out.

You have to throw your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in white hot pleasure, hips undulating against his mouth and hand, seeking out more of the pleasure he's giving you.

"This okay, mayfly? Feeling good?" Vash whispers before circling his tongue over your clit again.

You don't trust yourself to speak right now, instead nodding your head frantically as you moan and wail silently against your hand.

Vash groans hoarsly when he sees just how well he's taking you apart, eyes fluttering closed as he focuses entirely on your pleasure. When he feels your body relax around his finger, he slips in a second digit, his dexterous middle and ring fingers meticulously and lovingly abusing that sweet spot inside you until he has you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

Your hand gently tugs at his hair, biting into your palm and clenching your eyes tight, your thighs trembling against his head. You pull your hand away from your lips just long enough to call out to him, your voice breaking, your body ready burst, "Vash! M' gonna c-come..."

He growls against you when he hears his name leave your sweet lips in a such desperate tone, tongue lapping away at you more eagerly, your juices dripping from his hand.

"Yes, baby. Come. Come all over my tongue. Wanna taste you..." he grunts, panting as he fucks you with his tongue and fingers and grinds himself against the mattress. Fuck, he's gonna come all over himself if he doesn't reel it back.

His mouth devours you, digits pumping faster into your fluttering cunt as he chases your high.

When Vash feels your body tighten and convulse against his fingers, your sweet whimpers filling his ears, he moans louder than you, as if your pleasure is his pleasure, and it takes every bit of willpower in him to not come along with you.

Vash has always denied himself the pleasures in life, deeming himself unworthy for the sins he believes he's committed. But when it comes to you, to your pleasure, he's always eager to let himself indulge, his tongue lapping away at your sex like your come is a reward for his efforts until his mouth is dripping with you.

When he feels your body relax, your muscles unflexing, he licks one last strip over your cunt before pulling his mouth and fingers away. He licks your sweet cream from his digits, his other hand removing the boxers that have grown unbearably tight from his lower half. Slowly, almost like he's reluctant to leave his place from between your thighs, he raises himself up and towers over you again.

"You're so perfect, angel." He whispers, voice hoarse with desire, and you can see his need from the way his cock twitches as he stares down at you, his big hands holding you by the softness of your thighs. He brings his pelvis forward, gliding the hard length of himself along your dripping pussy, coating himself with a mix of your come and his own saliva.

"Vaaash~" You call to him weakly, your head still fogged from your intense orgasm, but your body craving him. Your hips rise to meet his own, and he grinds against you more desperately.

"You want this, angel? Wanna feel me inside you?" His tone is breathy and light, almost teasing, but you know more than well enough that what he's seeking right now above all else is your consent. How you got so lucky as to find yourself such a caring and thoughtful man (plant) is beyond you.

"Want it more than anything, angel." You purr back, using the loving nickname he's given you back at him as your hands reach for his shoulders. Because let's be honest, if anyone is deserving of the nickname, it's him.

A soft smile crosses his face when he sees you reach for him and, like a moth to a flame, he leans down towards your touch. One of your hands clasp over his shoulder, gripping him and pulling him closer to you. The other traces your thumb over his cheekbone, your finger dancing over that adorable birthmark under his left eye.

"Don’t go stealing my words now, mayfly." He teases back before his lips cover yours. When he pulls away, you feel him pant against your face, his body shaking and his cock gliding over you folds. Despite how much he's been holding back, putting your pleasure far before his own, you can feel now just how badly he wants this. He's at his limit.

Still, a pang of concern crosses over his handsome features, always thinking of you despite the agony he's in right now.

"If... If it hurts, I want you to tell me. Tell me and I'll sto-" You shush him before he can keep going, your thumb quickly moving from his cheekbone to his lips.

"You won't hurt me, Vash." You whisper tenderly, trying to ease the worries undoubtedly forming in that pretty head of his.

Hìs face softens again, his expression changing from one of concern to one that can be described as nothing short of reverent. His eyes might as well be hearts from the amount of love you see in them. With a shaky sigh, he nods his head once, and you move your hand from his face to his other shoulder, holding him tightly against you.

"Alright." He places doting little kisses to your temple and cheek, his hands on your thighs gently parting your legs further. "Let me take care of you, mayfly."

One of his arms weaves its way between your bodies, grasping his cock and aligning himself with your inviting entrance, placing a gentle pressure against your core with the tip of his cock. Vash's gaze never breaks from yours as he slowly sinks himself into your tight heat, the head of his cock splitting you open as he sheaths himself inside you, his mouth falling agape with a mewling whimper as he feels every inch of your sweet warmth.

Your breath hitches as he presses himself inside you slowly, your body taking him inch by sweet inch until he gently bottoms out, your nails digging slightly into his broad shoulders. You can feel him stretching you out on his thick cock, a mixture of the sweet sting and pleasure filling your entire body. You take in deep breaths to calm and relax yourself, your eyes fluttering up at your lover.

You're everything he's ever wanted, everything he's ever needed, everything his soul craves and begs for. He caresses your thigh and whispers between gasping breaths, a sweet smile on his face as your catch your breath, "You're okay, mayfly. Relax. Take your time. Tell me how you feel. I'm here with you, all the way." He coos, peppering your cheeks and neck with soft kisses as he whispers gentle words of praise and encouragement. His expression is one of pure love and adoration, seeing your body relax as you adjusts to his, your walls moulding to his cock, your breath slowly coming back to you.

"A-Ah... I need you to move, Vash. I think I'll explode if you don't move right now." You whine, hips bucking and writhing against his own, begging him to fuck you already.

His adoring smile never falters, chuckling breathily as you beg for him.

Fuck, he's missed feeling needed.

"Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we?" He teases with a shit-eating grin that splits his perfect face. He places a tender kiss between your brows before gazing back down at you.

"Hold on tight now," he purrs against the shell of your ear, tightening his grip on your thigh, his prosthetic palm pressing against the mattress by your head. He's trying so hard to keep himself together, but you can feel his arm shaking from the sheer euphoria as he supports his weight.

Gently, he pistons his hips against yours, his cock gliding along your inner walls at a sweet and tender pace and giving you the chance to adjust to the feeling of him stretching you out. As fogged as his mind is right now in a haze of lust and need, he is still acutely aware of you, and it would break him more than anything if he hurt you.

Vash stares down at where you two connect so intimately, watching how your body engulfs his cock over and over and coats his shaft with your arousal.

"You feel so good, mayfly. Taking me so well, like your body remembers me," Vash praises you sweetly, his face falling to the crook of your neck.

"V-Vash..." you mewl, thighs gripping his waist tighter, cushioning his hips as he pumps you full of himself. "Feels so good. M-More, please. I need you more."

"Of course. I'll give you more," he whispers, his voice dripping with tender affection as his hands move to your thighs, lifting them up and hooking your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half again. You moan wantonly at how deeply he can reach in this position, the head of his cock kissing your cervix.

Vash increases the pace, his thrusts gradually growing more deliberate and quick, pumping into you so deliciously that he wrings out every sweet sound you can make from your throat. He rocks his hips, his muscles tightening and relaxing as he pushes himself all the way in and pulls back out again, letting himself feel every inch of your velvety walls. Every pump of his hips has him pulling himself out to the hilt, leaving just his hot tip inside, giving you no time to breathe before he pushes himself back inside again, fucking you deeper and harder than before. Every time he pulls out, he sees your lips part slightly as you wait for him to ram back inside. And he does, over and over, making both of you moan louder as the room fills with the sounds of skin slapping.

"I love you, I love you! P-Please, please don't leave me behind again. Stay. I need you!" You cry out in rapture, tightening your grip around him and pulling him so his patchwork chest is against yours, your breasts squeezing and bouncing against his pecs.

"I'm here, mayfly. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I can't- I'd die without you. I love you too much." He grunts against the side of your face, the sound of his labored breaths filling your ears.

He thrusts into you faster and harder now, the withered bed creaking and groaning beneath you both along with the sounds of your pleasured cries.

"Mmm~ Vash... Feels too good. Gonna come. Gonna make me come."

Your words break the last bit of restraint in his lovedrunk mind, grunting loudly against your ear.

"Fuck, say it again. Say it- Say it like you missed me. Like you thought of me every day. The way I thought about you."

"Vash!"

You can feel your body quivering and pulsing around him, and it only makes Vash moan louder, your pussy practically sucking him back in every time he pulls away. He moves a hand from your thigh to thumb at your swollen clit, desperate to feel you come undone around him.

"That's it. That's it! Mmm fuck~ I can feel it. Say it as you come all over me, baby. Please. Please."

Your orgasm hits you like a sandsteamer, your back arching harshly off the bed before you even have the chance to cover your mouth, crying out his name with a melodic and broken moan.

"Va- Vash!"

He's quivering, his grunts and breaths shaky as he feels your pussy clench around his aching cock like your body is trying to milk him for all he's worth.

"Ahh- S' too good... M' gonna c-come, mayfly. Gonna come with you."

Vash bites his bottom lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pure agonizing rapture, only for your name to leave his lips like a beautiful song to the heavens as he spills himself deep inside your heat. His hips stutter as he fills you with his hot come until you feel like you're bursting, hips slowing and gently rocking into you as you both ride out your highs until they gradually come to a stop. He feels his muscles go limp, pressing his weight down on you more than he means to as he collapses against your smaller frame. He covers your temple and cheeks with weak, tired kisses, whispering sweet words of affection until you've both gathered your minds a bit more.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." He chants over and over again with every breath like a prayer, eyes closed, relishing the feeling of euphoria filling his body.

He stays inside you well after you've both come down for your climaxes, cockwarming you on his thick shaft like he can't bare the thought of ever being separated from you again. But when he feels his cock softening, he carefully pulls out of you with an almost pained groan, disappointed at the loss of your warmth but his body completely satisfied and drained regardless. When he sits back on his knees and sees his seed spilling from your dripping hole, he groans, cursing under his breath. The sight is enough to get him hard all over again.

_________________________

After a night full of round after round of hot and passionate lovemaking, your exhausted bodies lay beside each other. The sheets are wet and tangled, your bodies slick with a mix of your arousals, but you're both far too content and tired to care about the mess right now, enveloped in each other's embrace.

"Mmh... bed's comfy. I see why you like it here," You coo against his head, his hair tickling your nose.

"Having a bed to sleep in has definitely been nice. Beats sleeping out in the desert," He mumbles and pulls you in closer to himself, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching at your skin.

"But this bed might as well be a bed of sand if I can't sleep in it with you, mayfly."

"Always such a smooth talker," you chuckle at him. Then, your smile turns to a look of reluctance as you gently raise your head. "But I should probably go, huh? Don't wanna explain to Granny and Lina what I was doing here in the morning."

"Well, you were doing me." Vash snickers back at you, eyebrows wiggling teasingly.

"You're hilarious," you scoff with a deadpan stare, but you can't help the little amused smirk forming on your lips, "I'm glad to see your sense of humor hasn't gone anywhere."

He chuckles against the hollow of your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin.

"I know, I know. It's just one of my many charms."

"You won't need to say anything to them. I'll do all the explaining for you." His grip tightens around your waist, any thoughts of leaving the bed vanishing from your mind. How could you leave after everything that's happened? After you've both finally found your ways back to each other?

"Besides, they might already know you're here. We weren't exactly... uh, quiet." He chuckles nervously, and you can feel his face heating up as he thinks about just how much noise the two of you were making. You feel your own face heat up too. Yeah, the morning's gonna be a bit awkward.

Vash grips you tighter, his warm body flush against yours, clinging to you.

"Stay, mayfly. I need you."

Your body settles back into the bed, cuddling yourself up against the man you love most, and the world feels a little brighter.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

[prettypumpum]

Title: Crossed Dimensions I Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: You were living an ordinary life until the day a portal throws you into the Marvel universe. Trapped between an unbearable Deadpool and a Wolverine as troubling as he is charming, you discover powers you didn't know you had and an unknown past with certain heroes. As your anxiety grows in the face of this new reality, will you be able to find your place and perhaps become the hero they need?

Warnings: strong language, mentions of violence,

Word count: 1,031

"I'll be back on Monday! No funny business, no parties, and the pizza money is in the drawer by the hallway!" Wade shouted, slamming the car door before walking away.

"Finally," Logan muttered, his gaze still fixed on the windshield, his face impassive.

I glanced at Laura in the rearview mirror. Even if he'd never admit it, Logan enjoyed Wade and his antics in his own way.

"So, how’s it going at the Institute?" I asked Laura, hoping to break the heavy silence.

“It’s fine,” she replied, stopping at a red light, her eyes glued to the road.

Logan eventually broke the silence, almost reluctantly. “It’s a good place. They can help you settle in.”

“You guys are welcome too,” she retorted as the light turned green. “They could help you with your powers. Besides, they’re short-staffed. They could use someone to handle a bunch of teens… especially teens with superpowers,” she added, casting a pointed look at Logan.

He clenched his jaw. “That’s all behind me.”

In the rearview mirror, I saw Laura’s face fall slightly, as if she regretted bringing it up. A bitter silence settled, heavy with memories. I knew that as soon as we got dropped off, Logan would probably head straight to a bar to forget.

“How about we order a pizza?” I suggested to the two mutants in the front, hoping to lighten the mood.

They glanced back at me in the mirror, a fleeting smile on their faces.

A few hours later, we were all sprawled out on the couch, surrounded by pizza boxes scattered on the coffee table.

“Comedy or horror?” Laura asked, the remote in one hand and a slice of pineapple pizza in the other.

“Put on whatever you want,” Logan replied, cracking open another beer.

She looked at me for my opinion, and I just shrugged with a smile, content with the relaxed vibe. She scrolled through the options on the screen. Beside me, Logan was relaxed, his dark eyes fixed on the TV. The white T-shirt he was wearing suited him surprisingly well, and I could feel his arm brushing against mine, an innocent but electrifying touch.

With each quick glance at him, memories of the bar came back to me, and I found myself imagining what might have happened if Wade hadn’t interrupted us. These thoughts wrapped me in a warm haze.

Finally, Laura settled on a horror movie. *Scream*, a classic, perfect for a pizza night. But I was having a hard time focusing. My attention kept drifting back to Logan, sitting so close.

“These kids are so stupid,” Logan muttered, taking a swig of his beer.

“That’s what everyone says watching horror movies, but I’m not sure teenage me would’ve done any better,” I replied, grabbing another slice of pizza. “Between rehearsals and dance classes, I barely had time to sleep. Killing someone… well, that was even less likely.”

He smirked. “That explains so much.”

"Right? So, tell us about teenage you in Canada, back when there was no electricity or running water," I teased with a playful smile.

Laura was watching us, a smile on her face, finding our exchange more interesting than the movie. Logan and I exchanged a few knowing smiles before she stood up.

“I’m gonna grab a soda,” she said, slipping into the kitchen and leaving us alone in this intimate moment.

"She’s great," I said, watching the door she had just disappeared through.

“Yeah,” he replied, his face hardening, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“Hey,” I said, placing my hand on his, reminding him of our promise from the bar.

He looked up at me, surprised. “I’m okay,” he murmured. “But… sometimes, it all just gets to be too much.”

I nodded, feeling the depth of his unease.

“I know.” My thumb brushed his hand softly. His gaze, dark and intense, held secrets he dared not share.

I looked up, and our eyes met. His usually guarded stare softened, revealing fatigue and invisible scars. He broke the silence, his voice low:

“It’s rare… to feel this good.”

He squeezed my hand gently, as if to reassure himself that this moment was real.

Our gazes locked, the silence between us loaded with unspoken emotions. I felt almost trembling under his look. Logan, usually so distant, was looking at me differently, with a glimmer I’d never noticed before.

“Hey,” Laura said, coming back from the kitchen and breaking the spell between Logan and me. “Sorry, but I have to go,” she announced, holding up her phone.

“Everything okay?” Logan asked, his face concerned.

“Yeah, I totally forgot my friend Taylor was supposed to help me with my shopping.”

Logan nodded with a murmur, but his skepticism was clear. “Take some pizza with you; there’s too much for the two of us,” I said, quickly getting up to pack some for her.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing the boxes. “Tonight was fun… we should do it again sometime.” I nodded, smiling, holding the door open for her as she struggled with the boxes. “See you soon.”

Logan and I, now alone, stood there, our eyes fixed on the closed door for a moment. “That was a lie, right?” Logan asked.

“You never lied to go see your crush?” I shot back with a mischievous smile.

“So, you were one of those bad girls who lied to mess with boys?” he replied, his intense gaze locked onto mine.

My breathing quickened, my body warming. My breath was short; I wanted nothing more than to throw myself at him and kiss him.

“I… I need to go to the laundry room,” I said, unable to hold his gaze any longer, using the excuse of a basket of dirty laundry left out.

He nodded, seeming to collect himself, and watched me pick up the basket as I fled. “I’ll take a shower,” he said as I darted out of the apartment.

When I got to the hallway, I realized I’d forgotten the detergent in my hurry. Returning to the apartment, I walked straight into Logan, shirtless, coming out of the bathroom.

“Sorry… I forgot the…” I was unable to look away from his hairy chest and toned muscles.

[doumadono]

Emergency request

If there’s still a slot open could you possibly write something with Aizawa or Denki or kirishima comforting a reader who’s having a lot of trouble disassociating and trying hard not to blip from D.I.D I understand it’s an odd situation and I completely understand if you aren’t able to. I’m having such a hard time keeping myself in myself due to a lot of stuff being told to me as a kid coming back up. Thank you if you can and still thank you if you can’t or don’t want to.

You're not alone - Aizawa, Kaminari & Kirishima with Reader

EMERGENCY REQS - PART 2

Aizawa

You’re struggling to stay present during a quiet evening at home, and Aizawa notices your disconnection.

Aizawa notices the smallest details - your glassy eyes, delayed responses, and tense body language. He quietly puts down the book he was reading. “You’re not here, are you? It’s okay. Let’s bring you back.”

He doesn’t overwhelm you with words but opts for grounding techniques. He sits nearby, quietly describing the room. “The walls are that off-white you complained about last month. Your favorite blanket’s here. The cat is purring by your feet.” His calm, steady voice anchors you as your cat indeed is purring, rubbing its side against your legs.

Aizawa respects your boundaries. If you pull away, he won’t push, but he’ll stay close, letting you feel his presence without pressure.

If you respond to touch, he’ll gently take your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Just focus on this,” he murmurs. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

He’ll bring you tea or water without asking, understanding that grounding often starts with basic needs.

When you finally explain what’s been going on, he listens intently without interrupting. “What you’re feeling makes sense,” he says softly. “Don’t fight it all at once. Let’s take this slow.”

He doesn’t lecture or over-explain but offers succinct, affirming phrases. “This doesn’t define you. You’re more than what happened to you.”

Over time, he makes subtle adjustments to your routine to help - keeping a grounding object nearby, setting up soft lights to avoid overstimulation, or establishing quiet time for you both.

His presence is a solid reminder that you’re not alone.

Denki

During a hangout, you start disassociating mid-conversation, and Denki notices your sudden withdrawal.

Denki’s sharp in his own way. He notices your distant look and stops talking mid-sentence. “Hey, hey. You okay? You’re zoning out on me a little.”

To pull you back, he leans closer, waving a hand gently. “Earth to Y/N! What’s going on in that awesome brain of yours?” His teasing tone is light and non-threatening.

Denki’s all about action. He offers you something tangible to hold - a random trinket in his pocket. “Here, squeeze this. It’s got this weird texture. Kinda gross, right?”

If you’re able to speak, he’s all ears. “Lay it on me. No judgment, no filter. I’m your personal vent buddy today.” He might even sit cross-legged on the floor, fully focused on you.

Denki might pull out his phone and play a funny video or a sound you like, knowing sensory engagement can help. “This one always cracks me up. Watch it with me?”

Denki brainstorms creative ways to help you stay present. “Okay, next time this happens, let’s try snapping to a song beat. Or, ooh, I can record something dumb for you to play back later.”

He uses his goofiness as a way to lighten the heaviness. “If all else fails, I’ll just do something embarrassing. That’ll definitely help to bring ya back.”

Denki doesn’t let the moment pass without follow-up. “How’re you feeling now? Better? Worse? Tell me everything, no sugar-coating.”

He’s your biggest cheerleader. “You’ve got this, okay? Even when it feels like you don’t, you’ve totally got this. And if you don’t, I’ve got you.”

Kirishima

During training, you start to disassociate, and Kirishima notices your distant demeanor.

Eijiro’s right by your side the moment he sees you struggling. “Whoa, hey. You good? You look kinda out of it. Let’s take a breather.”

He places a hand on your shoulder, grounding you with his steady voice. “Hey, you’re safe. You’re here with me. Let’s take this one step at a time, yeah?”

Kirishima gently gets you to focus on the environment. “What can you hear right now? My voice? Let’s start there, okay?”

He’s in no rush and makes sure you know it. “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere until you’re ready.”

To him, confronting this struggle is the epitome of being manly. “This? What you’re dealing with? It’s the most hardcore thing ever, and you’re handling it like a champ.”

Despite his naturally loud personality, he softens his tone, speaking with an unusual gentleness. “It’s all right to feel like this. Nobody’s judging you, least of all me.”

If you’re okay with touch, Kirishima might guide your hands to something solid - his arm, a training mat, or a nearby wall. “Feel this? It’s real. Just like you’re here, real, with me.”

Once you’re able to talk, he listens without interrupting, nodding along. “That’s heavy stuff, but you’re not carrying it alone. I’ve got you, dear."

Even after the moment passes, Kirishima remains vigilant. “If this happens again, I want you to call me, no matter what nor when. Promise me that, okay?”

[honeygrahambitch]

"Will. I hope my timing is not too inconvenient. Do you happen to be in Baltimore?"

"Yes, what happened?" Will said as he picked up his phone.

"My Bentley was towed. Do you think you could pick me up so I can retrieve it?"

"Send me the address and I will be there in a moment."

***

"See what I believed?" Hannibal said as he showed Will the parking lot.

"And you were absolutely right. I always park here. There are always cars here. Look at that one parking right now. Since when are they towing them?"

"Could be a new rule."

"How much did you have to pay?"

"More than I would have liked."

"Let's go, get into my car. I am having a word with them." Hannibal didn't comment. The individuals who picked up his car were anyway destined to end up in his plate sooner or later.

No one touches his Bentley.

***

"Go there right now. Have a look. And tell all those cars the same thing."

"Sir, it's the law."

"The law my ass."

Hannibal lifted his eyes from the paperwork he was filling. He had to bite his tongue in order to stop himself from smiling.

"Excuse me but who are you? Since you are not the owner of the car?"

"You are damn right. That's my husband's car that you towed. And I am not leaving this place until you admit that it was a mistake on your behalf."

Hannibal dropped the pen on the floor and didn't even bother to pick it up. He almost dropped the papers as well.

"Sir, I would like to ask you to leave the room...your behavior is not very respectful."

"Did I hurt your feelings-" Will stopped to have a look at the name tag "Jeremy? I found your behavior to be more than unacceptable yet here we are. And listen, my husband might be very gracious with matters like this, but trust me, I am not."

"I am calling the police."

"Yeah?" Will said and pulled out his credentials. "Tell me again about the law."

Jeremy gulped and put his phone down. At this point Hannibal had to take off his coat. The temperature in the room was very high, of course.

"I know the law, and I am very much aware of the fact that you are towing only the expensive cars. It's been a matter the FBI has had its eyes on for weeks. So now, before my team arrives, you owe my husband some money. And an apology."

"Sir...our wages are low...please don't get us into more trouble. If our boss finds out..."

"I don't like repeating myself."

Jeremy was shaking but he rushed to took some money from a drawer. His trembling hands made counting them a lot more difficult.

Will turned to Hannibal who showed the same expression he would show in a museum. Fascination. Admiration. And something else.

The man gave Hannibal his money back and apologized multiple times.

"That was impressive, Will." Hannibal said as they left the building.

"I can't tolerate this type of things. Especially when it's you."

"Tell me, how much of it was real?"

"It was mostly bluffing. The FBI is not coming. But I had a feeling my assumption related to what they're doing is true." Will explained. "They never tried to pick up my volvo."

"We really need to get you a better car." Hannibal said, impressed by Will's mind even after all that time.

"Snob."

"I liked seeing you like that."

"Oh, I know. I put on a show mostly for your own entertainment."

Will's hand found his.

[wiltedreamofbaldursgate]

Steady Hands, Frame My Love

characters: Astarion x race/class neutral fem!Tav/reader word count: +3.2k Rating: M trigger warning: mild-ish sexual content. bad eyebrows. This hasn't been beta-read nor am I a native speaker. read on ao3 read more BG3 one shots

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror.

“Come out, spawn. There is no use in hiding.”

You know there is trouble when you spot Lae'zel in front of Astarion’s tent. Her tiny nose is scrunched up in a way that would be cute if it didn’t mean she wants to skin someone alive. The perfectly sharpened blade twitching in her hand is just another hint that she’s out for blood. You almost can’t blame Astarion for hiding from the Githyanki warrior’s wrath—almost, because it’s within every reason to assume he’s brought her wrath upon himself. 

Taking a quick look around camp, you find that everybody is suspiciously busy minding their own business for once, skillfully ignoring the one-sided commotion in front of your lover’s tent. You can’t really blame them either; it’s been a very long day, and everybody wants to get some rest before dinner. You have half the mind to do the very same when Lae'zel’s intense gaze suddenly locks with yours—an honest rookie mistake.

There’s no use pretending you haven’t noticed her now, so you put your journal aside and approach the red tent with long strides and a smile that you can only hope will have a calming effect on her. Unsurprisingly, your hopes are shattered instantly. 

Lae'zel doesn’t wait for you to friendly inquire about what the fuck the matter is this time; before you can even open your mouth, she’s all the way in your face.

“The spawn does as he pleases!”

Lae'zel would need to get a great deal more specific when it comes to Astarion, but you refrain from telling her so, opting for a questioning look instead. 

The young warrior shakes her head, annoyed that her explanation isn’t sufficient enough for your small istik brain to comprehend.

“It is the spawn’s turn to fetch water from the stream. Thus is his duty,” Lae'zel explains slowly, accentuating every word with a well-placed hiss to get her point across. “A duty he fails to perform.” 

You think it is progress that she isn’t waving her sword at you, although she does glare at you as if you were the offending party, which—since your relationship with the pale elf has become common knowledge around camp—you somewhat are.

“Where I am from, we make sure to keep our mates in check, however pleasing they might be. You might want to do the same.” 

Maybe not so much progress, after all.

“Haven't I made myself quite clear on that before, Lae'zel?”

Holding her intense glare, you stare the warrior down. You have made yourself clear on occasion—you aren’t Astarion’s keeper. 

It takes a moment, but Lae'zel is the first to break eye contact, eventually taking a step back. Not lowering your gaze, you wait patiently for her to continue.

“The spawn would better honour his word, or else…” She spits, not at you, but at Astarion’s firmly closed tent flap. 

“I will remind him,” you assure her, not unkindly.

Lae'zel looks you up and down before she inclines her head ever so slightly.

“I trust you will,” she drawls, glaring at the tent one last time before she stalks away.

Left to take care of the issue at hand, you frown at the closed tent flap. As much as Astarion bitches about pulling his weight in camp, it’s unlike him to not do his chores one way or the other. And now that you think about it, he’s set up his tent uncharacteristically fast earlier, too, not even trying to rope anyone in to help him do his work. The realisation that you haven’t seen him since he vanished into said tent quite a while ago settles unpleasantly in your stomach. 

“Astarion?”

You step closer to the heavy fabric closing off the tent’s entrance, listening. There’s no answer, although you do hear some hurried movement from within the tent. It’s a good sign, you suppose.

“You good in there?”

The silence stretches for another moment before Astarion finally lets out an exaggerated sigh. Going by the sound of it, he, too, must be standing rather close to the entrance.

“Truth be told, darling, I have been better.”

“Are you hurt?” You ask, not bothering to hide the obvious worry lacing your voice. 

When could he have even gotten hurt? Haven’t you checked up on everyone after your earlier fight with some overly pesky, giant spiders? Or is he just messing with you—trying to avoid his laborious chore after all?

It takes yet another moment for Astarion to mumble something incomprehensible in reply. With raised eyebrows, you repeat your question, which earns you another sigh from him, this time more exasperated than theatrical. 

“I just so happened to get some acid in my face when we took care of those cursed spiders and—”

“And?” You press, alarmed.

“It’s nothing, darling, really; it’s just—well…”

“Astarion!”

The vampire curses, and you can hear him step even closer to the tent’s opening, closer to you. You’re almost sure that if you pressed your hand against the fabric shielding him from you, you would be able to touch him. 

“They're gone,” he says, his voice so low you have to strain your ears to hear him. 

Your frown deepens. “What is?” 

More mumbling reaches your ear, and Astarion has to repeat himself twice before you can eventually make any sense of his words. You stare at the tent flap in disbelief. You can't have heard right.

“Your eyebrows are gone?”

Astarion inhales sharply. “Must you scream it around for everyone to hear? Come in, come in!”

Not knowing what to expect, you enter the tent. 

Astarion has retreated to the shadows; his hand is firmly pressed against his forehead. You stare up at him, trying to assess the situation. He looks pained alright, although you have an inkling it’s more from wounded vanity than actual injury. As you step closer to him, you give him a reassuring smile.

“So, acid, huh? I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He is not convinced. At all. Wordlessly, he’s staring back at you, his jaw set. Your smile fades.

“Let me take a look?” You try again, feeling your already shaky optimism dwindle further.  

He thinks it over for a couple of heartbeats before he slowly drags his hand to his hairline, pushing up the stands of white hair that usually fall so gracefully in his face… 

Astarion must’ve drunk a healing potion because the presumably once-angry burns on his skin have already faded into pale red blotches sprinkled all over his forehead. By morning, nobody would even be able to tell the acid burns were ever there—were it not for Astarion’s eyebrows, or what’s left of them, that is.

You instantly force your face into a mask of neutrality. You have to approach this very delicately.

“It’s… salvageable. Really,” is all you can blurt out, though. 

Astarion’s crimson eyes grow comically round, accentuated by the lack of eyebrows; he doesn’t believe a word you say, which you can’t really hold against him. You’re talking shit. It’s bad, and you wonder how in the nine hells you haven’t noticed this before.

“You can redraw them here and…there,” you go on for lack of anything better to say—Gods, you really should shut up. “Fill them back in, you know…?” 

Astarion wets his lips while you're evading his piercing gaze.

“Why, what a grand idea,” he breathes, shakily. “I never would’ve thought of that myself. If only there wasn’t this one peculiar little thing. What was it again, my dear?”

You cringe. Of course. Of course… How could you forget?

“Ah, right…” You only notice the delicate hand mirror Astarion was holding when it flies across the tent, shattering somewhere on the bare ground farthest from you. “I can’t fucking see my face!” 

As if all strength has left his body, Astarion sinks to the ground, where he lets himself fall back into his pile of blankets, arms draped over his eyes. It’s all rather dramatic, but you guess you can’t have one without the other. 

Grimacing, because you’re sorry for him, you sink to your knees next to him, gently tugging at his sleeve. 

“Do you want me to do it? Redraw them, I mean.”

You can tell by the way Astarion sits up as if struck by lightning that he was only waiting for your offer. Suddenly very close, he considers you with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose you could,” he muses, tracing the shape of your left eyebrow with his index finger. “You usually look presentable enough.” 

You let the comment slide, but not without rolling your eyes at him. It’s just show, though, a way to suppress a smile. Astarion thinks he’s sly about it, but you catch him often enough looking at you as if you were the sun at dawn. 

Of course, you would never dare mention that to him.

“Give me a minute,” you say instead, already rising to your feet, were it not for the cold fingers curling around your wrist.

Astarion gives you a stern look as he's holding you in place, his nose nearly brushing against yours. “Not a word to anyone about this.” 

You give him a solemn look in return as you comb your fingers through his hair, gently guiding some stray locks back into place. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your hand is trembling just a little—enough for Astarion to notice. Enough for that damn smirk to find its way to his lips. You hold your breath. 

“Nervous, love?” 

Yes, and it’s stupid because you’ve done this often enough—daily, even. It’s just easier to apply cosmetics on yourself, sitting in front of a mirror and not kneeling in front of him, trying to evade his piercing gaze. 

“Why would I be?” You scowl, readjusting the hold on your charred willow stick that has yet to make contact with Astarion’s skin. “Aren’t my eyebrows, are they?”

You shift closer to him, brushing against his leg with your knee, which doesn’t help your case at all. You can’t help feeling a little shaky when he’s this close—and he knows it. 

“No need to tremble like a virgin, then, my sweet.” 

Giving him a sharp look, you draw back a little, although you don’t make it far. 

“Maybe you just need to come a little closer still,” he purrs as his hand takes hold of the back of your knee, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. “Might be less distracting for you…”

For someone close to having a meltdown less than fifteen minutes ago, he’s surely having lots of fun now. Biting your lower lip, you adjust your weight, straddling Astarion properly. Trying to ignore the hard body pressing against yours, you assess the natural growth of his eyebrows again, eventually setting the tip of the charred willow stick down on his skin, only to remove it again. This won’t work like this. 

“Honestly, can you please just close your eyes?” 

Astarion scoffs. “Should I blow out the candles, too, while I’m at it? Leave the nightdress on?” 

“Shut up, or you’ll end up looking like a clown.” 

That eventually does the trick. He gives you one last look that is somewhere between peeved and wary before he closes his eyes. 

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing, to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror. The thought alone makes you shudder.

Astarion’s hand wanders up from your knee to your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze; this time, his touch is more encouragement than teasing. 

After taking a deep breath, you lean back in. 

With steady hands, you begin to redraw the missing parts of his eyebrows. Taking your time, you make sure to follow the natural shape of them; to blend out the colour where the charcoal comes off as too stark a contrast to his white hair. 

While you’re working, Astarion doesn’t move one bit, eager—for once—to not fluster you. It’s not until you lean back to consider the fruits of your labour that he opens his eyes again. 

“And?”

“Well,” you muse, “you look presentable enough.” 

He scowls as you throw his own words back at him; you suppress a laugh before you take his face between your hands.

“If I could see the stars right now, I could not tell them apart from you,” you proclaim, mimicking his dramatics once again. It’s not as funny when you do it, so you’re quick to add, “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

You mean it, and Astarion knows it; trusts that you do. He leans forward to brush a kiss against your lips, hugging you to him, which is as much thanks as you expected to receive. 

“Will you do it again tomorrow? And the day after,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, “please?”  

“Of course,” you assure him, deepening the embrace, “until they’ve grown back.”  

Astarion hums in agreement and you remain like this for a moment before you pull back to look into his eyes, which are once again framed by a pair of sharp eyebrows accentuating his perfect features. 

“I should’ve noticed earlier,” you say, at last. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good mirror, it seems.” 

Astarion frowns at you, the intensity of his gaze taking you aback as it is wont to do. 

“Don’t be,” he urges, gently taking your dominant hand in his. He runs his fingers along the back of it, careful not to put too much pressure on your still-raw skin. His touch stings nonetheless, reminding you of your own acid burns that have yet to heal—those spiders really are a menace. “You should be more careful, too, you know? You’re the only working mirror I have.”

You’re lying flat on your back before you can even gasp in surprise. To your embarrassment, your legs have already wrapped around Astarion’s waist; all you can see is that damn smirk on his lips as he’s towering over you, his face barely a finger width away from yours. Your breath hitches as you take him in; nobody has any right to be this beautiful. 

“It would be a shame if I lost it, my precious little mirror,” he sighs before pressing his lips to yours. 

It’s a far cry from his earlier kiss—heated, needy. Knowing you don’t stand a chance against his tongue gliding over your lower lip, you open your mouth to him, slowly losing yourself in him. There’s really nothing easier than that.

Your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer as your fingers dig through his locks, eliciting a low moan from him. This is a lot more thanks for your service than you’ve expected, but you find yourself unable to complain. Your mouth is far too occupied for that anyway.

It’s almost obscene how easily Astarion can undo your stays and by the time his hand finds its way underneath your thin shirt, your mind is long clouded by lust. Leaving goosebumps in its wake, his hand glides over your belly up to your sternum before it firmly cups your breast. The lazy pace of his thumb drawing circles around your hardened nipple has you aching your back, trying to ease the wet heat gathering between your legs. 

Wet.

Somewhere very far in the back of your mind, you remember that you had a reason for coming to him earlier—way before you ended up on his lap, let alone underneath him. Let alone this damn wet. What was it again? 

You break loose from Astarion to take a quick breath. Not wasting any time away from you, his lips begin to trace along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone; his wicked grin is painfully obvious against your skin. By the time you realise Astarion is scheming something, he’s already pushing his knee under your ass, repositioning you so that you can feel his hardness pressing against your core. You hiss at the sudden contact. 

Ah, right—hiss! Lae'zel.

You throw your head back with a sigh as Astarion begins to grind his hips against you, making any thought of the Githyanki warrior evaporate quickly. Fuck Lae'zel and her sense of duty and honour. You can just sit out her wrath with Astarion right here, right now, however long it may take. It doesn’t really matter that you’re not sitting much, either.

But then again, maybe this is why your companions take offence at you the moment Astarion is stepping out of line, although you’re sure they would be biassed, too, if they knew how positively divine he feels—especially when he’s teasing the waistband of your trousers with his long fingers as he does now. Your hips move in answer to his touch, and yet…Fuck.

You groan. Not with pleasure but from your own sense of duty. The others trust you as much as Astarion does; that’s why they somehow thought it wise to make you their leader. Almost annoyed with yourself, you prop yourself up on one elbow, pressing your hand against Astarion’s chest, telling him to stop before you’re way past the point of no return. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. His hair is messy and his lips are red and swollen from your kisses and by the Gods you want him to fuck you. It takes you a very long moment to gather yourself.

“Now that we took care of your issue,” you pant, tracing the shape of his left eyebrow with your index finger, “you might wanna go fetch water if you don’t want Lae'zel to wipe them off right away.” 

Tilting his head, Astarion gives you a long look. His fingers keep digging into your thigh which has you grinding your teeth to suppress another sigh. He doesn’t buy your attempt at keeping order and peace, not when he can undoubtedly feel you trembling with need for him. You’re not even protesting when he leans back over you, one arm next to your head to support his weight. 

“So, what?” he breathes against your shoulder before planting a hot kiss against your skin. And another. And another, as he is slowly kissing his way down your body. “You said you would redo them over and over and over again, didn’t you, darling?” 

Holding your breath, you watch your shirt being pushed up the lower he’s moving down on you, gasping only when the crisp evening air caresses your exposed chest. 

Astarion’s trail of kisses comes to a halt right below your belly button. His crimson eyes are looking at you expectantly but you’re too preoccupied with his fingers slowly undoing your trousers to make any sense of his wordless question. You swallow. 

“You did say that, didn’t you?” He repeats, the amusement evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you nod rather enthusiastically. “No problem. Not at all.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Astarion grins, finally freeing you of your trousers to see how pathetically ready you already are for him.

Duty can wait a little longer, you decide as you give yourself over to the pale elf. You only promised Lae'zel to remind Astarion of his chores, not that you would make him do them, you reason. 

You’re not his keeper, after all. 

[wutheringcaterpillar]

C for Credit

Summary: You’re a student of Dr. Oppenheimer’s and Kitty’s niece. Sometimes you need “better grades” and who was he to deny yourselves of a little after school arrangement unbeknownst to his wife.

warnings: age gap (not specified), oral (m receiving), pet names, reader is kitty’s niece. Altered storyline a bit, face fucking, dom/sub dynamic

-This is written from Robert’s pov

There she was, my darling, intuitive Y/N, standing there in a white sillk corset, socks just reaching past her knees looking as innocent as an angel. She was my angel, and oh how I longed for her forbidden fruit. 

Forbidden I say, due to the fact she was my wife’s niece. Maybe the attraction was because she was naive, young, and uniquely beautiful. Always wanting to impress me in class, persuade me for a good grade whether she deserved it or not.

Now here I sat nude in a hotel room, temptation and pleasure coursing through my veins on this humid summer day.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Oh and her sarcasm, always wanted to have the final word. 

Allow me to explain for a moment. She was a student in my class, freshman in university still trying to find her niche in life, but her eyes spoke trouble. She had a different last name than Kitty, or else maybe I wouldn’t have endulged in my desirable needs the first day after class. Then again given my track record, maybe I would have. 

“Your last paper was a C- at best. We’re both aware you can do better, but for that to happen you’re going to have to work for it.” A playful grin smeared across her face, she approached me slowly, each step laced with determination, and confidence. My heart beats for her every day, and even after all of these encounters, it still doesn’t seem like enough. We both needed more, craved more.

She bent down on her knees before me, batting her eyelashes up at me with such seduction, and intent. I raised my hand brushing her cheek gently and watched as she took my length in between her plush, glossed lips. 

The tip of my cock hitting the back of her slippery throat, nearly taking the breath out of my chest. She was insatiable, every part of her. This may sound rather odd but even when she was busy sucking my cock, she did it with elegancy, without any remorse.

Her cheeks hollowed around me, lips curving with every up and down movement on my shaft, her hand eventually coming up to cradle my balls, massaging my sensitive skin with such care.

She began to pick up speed, I could see the tears brimming at her eyes, her mascara slowly falling apart, running down her cheeks.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” She hummed on my cock, always looking up at me for my approval, putting my satisfaction before her own at times.

Her free hand rested on my thigh, squeezing my skin delicately. I could feel her cheeks hollow, her movements fasten and I couldn’t control myself any longer. 

I began to thrust my length at a ferocious speed, needing a release, pounding relentlessly into her mouth, and oh when she gagged, she sounded like music to my ears.

From a glimpse I could see her cleavage bounce up and down through her silk material, and her seductive eyes never leaving mine. She was enjoying being used like this, always needing to be controller and who was I to deny her of her need to submit? 

As not only her professor, but also her aunt’s husband, it was with my due diligence to guide her, reprimand her.

My cock began to pulsate from her tongue still twirling around the head of my cock, sucking with such precision. She certainly needed that A, and worked hard for it. 

I drained my seed down her throat, my thighs twitching while I reveled in my orgasm. She swallowed like my good little girl, her eyes speaking a devilish, yet accomplished gaze.

“How was that sir?” She looked at me innocently again, as if she wasn’t just devouring my penis, wiping a stray piece of cum from her bottom lip.

I could feel beads if sweat forming on my temple and the back of my neck. 

“Well I- I certainly think you’ve earned an A+.” She giggled in my arms, wrapping her arms behind my neck and leaving small, luxurious kisses down my neck. A young girl like Y/N whose hormones were immensely high was in demand for more than one round. 

She sat on my lap, petting the side of my face before removing her underwear, freeing her hardened nipples and tremendously attractive, unflawed body. I was always happy to oblige, especially for some extra credit if you will.

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Disobedience ❙ TP Optimus Prime x f!human reader ❙ NSFW 18+

Word count: 2000+

Warnings: Smut ( toucing and grinding ) mentions of nudity, Optimus giving reader some punishment but hardly, little angst with happy ending and robot on human. NSFW 18+.

Notes: Thanks for sending in your request @musicalmedli. I haven't really done much with Optimus before so this was a great experiance. Sorry for the wait been a busy week. I don't know why I get carried away with these and end up being 2k+ I just can't help myself. Hope you enjoy. 🥰

Tips☕

"Y/N!"

You jump hearing Optimus yell your name. He is not happy with you at all. Over again you would cause mischief, getting yourself into trouble before being rescued by Optimus himself, for months this went on.

However, it's different today. You could've got really hurt, yet you still ran through that ground bridge and right into a battle between him and Megatron.

On some stroke of luck you were saved, again, but Optimus is now having some alone time with you, words, putting his foot down finally.

None of the others dared to say anything and instead gave Optimus and you time alone he requested. He really wasn't happy, a side you or anyone never saw.

"Would you care to explain yourself? Why would you disobey me yet again? Are you truly trying to put yourself in danger? Do you realise just how bad things might've gone today?" Optimus asks question after question, explaining answers for all of them.

"I...I'm sorry, I just wanted to see you in battle." You gave an innocent shrug. "I'm fine though. No harm done, thanks to you." You send him a weak smile, but he is in no smiling mood.

"No more." He firmly orders. "If you disobey again you won't be welcomed into the base." Hearing this makes your heart sink.

"You'll kick me out? But...No, that's not fair! I'm an adult not a child! Miko is always disobeying and she never gets punished. Why me? What makes me so different?!" You raise your voice feeling upset now.

For months you have been trying to get his attention, to pick up the signals, but nothing was working. Not following his orders is your way to get his attention and you think it was working, until now that is.

"Because you're different! If anything were to happen to you..." He goes quiet much to your surprise.

"What?" You question, seeking what he's thinking.

"I wouldn't forgive myself if you got hurt." He admits to you, making both your stomach and heart flip.

"But I didn't-"

"You can't control what happens." He cuts in. "You put yourself in situations and I'm forced to put my focus on you, putting both you and myself in danger. Megatron now knows you're my weakness and he'll use that. It's not safe for you anymore."

Honestly, you hadn't really thought about that.

"I'm-"

"Agent Fowler will need to move your family somewhere else and under protection now, because of your actions, you put you, your family, and myself in danger."

Your eyes swell with tears, threatening to leak out as your emotions boil. You truly didn't think that far ahead.

"I'm sorry. I just..." Your breath hitches as you struggle to find the words.

"Just what? Talk to me. What's going on with you?" Optimus' tone changes, and he sounds concerned for you.

"I just wanted you to notice me." Finally, you mutter through a whisper, but Optimus hears it.

"Notice you? I always notice you, Y/N." He responds, but you simply shake your head.

"No, you don't!" You snap, not truly meaning it, but there is no taking it back. "Not the way I want you to notice me."

"I don't understand..." Optimus says slowly before you cut in.

"Of course you don't. It doesn't matter..." You turn away then.

"No, it does matter. I don't understand why you didn't tell me this sooner." Hearing this makes you perk your head up towards him.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you." You continue to struggle with your words, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Please, speak to me. Tell me what?" Optimus is closer now, kneeling to your level. He really is going to force it out of you.

"Tell you how I feel about you." You manage to barely squeak out.

Optimus stares at you, optics softening with care before letting out a long sigh.

"Y/N, are you saying you have intimate feelings towards me?" He wants to clarify.

This is it probably, you'll leave and never return, never see the autobots again, or Optimus. That's the life you think is going to happen now for you.

"Yeah, duh." You answer back with another shrug. "Didn't I make that obvious?"

"You have an odd way of showing it." Sure, you understand that. Throwing yourself in danger just to be rescued by him is your way to tell him that you have the biggest crush on him.

You can't help but laugh lightly through your tears. "Yeah, maybe, guess I was just desperate." Sniffling you try wiping your face clean, hating this feeling and the emotions that shake through your body.

Suddenly, there's a large but tender touch against your cheek. Looking up, you notice it's Optimus, using his digit to not wipe your face but to caress you, trying to offer any form of comfort.

"Perhaps next time instead of running into a battle between me and Megatron for me to rescue you, just talk to me." It sounds very simple.

"You make it sound so easy." You say, unable to help yourself as you lean into his touch fondly.

"Y/N, I'll admit, I've grown an attachment towards you, and it's deeper than I realised until today. My spark reaches out to you silently, screaming for you, but you give nothing back. It's not your fault though. We're a different species but that doesn't have to mean we can't work something out for this to grow more, if that is what you desire?"

His words send your mind into a spin. Is he confessing his feelings?

"Optimus." His name barely whispers from you. "Are you returning the same feelings?"

"Yes, I am." His answer gets you beaming through more tears, tears of happiness this time.

"I-I don't know what to say now." Perhaps you were dreaming, however after pinching your arm a little you realised you weren't dreaming at all.

"Would you like to spend time with me this evening?" His offer gets you all giddy, almost lightheaded as well.

"Yes...please, I would love that."

He picks you up under his servo and heads towards his quarters. You can't help but hold onto his digit for support, feeling so small, yet safe at the same time.

You have no idea what to expect to happen once in his quarters, but you are ready for anything. You've waited for this for months and now you finally have an opportunity.

Once in his quarters, he sits on his berth with her still sitting in his servo. He watches you, curiously, illuminating optics lingering across your small body.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I want you to feel safe with me. Do you trust me?" He asks, digits gently pressing against your side and rubbing.

"I do." You answer through a shaky breath, loving the feel of his digit against your side and making you hum softly.

Optimus watches you before his smile flattens a little.

"There's still the talk about a punishment for your disobedience." Hearing him say this does make you nervous, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stare up at him with wide doe eyes.

"You're going to punish me?"

"I won't hurt you, but more like I need you to listen to me. Understood?" You can only nod at him and wait patiently for what he has in mind for you.

He seems hesitant at first but soon enough he finds his voice. "Remove your clothes, please."

Your heart is hammering so hard against your chest but you follow his order. Removing your clothes you soon follow with your undergarments, removing them as well, slowly.

You hear Optimus let out a soft vent at the sight of your naked figure before him. His optics lingered over, silently hoving, and that makes you feel even hotter.

He suddenly moves you closer towards him right up to his face. "Kiss me, please."

Wetting your lips you lean up closer towards him, hand running along his cheek plating as your naked skin and breasts press against his armour.

You hear him letting out a low groan at the feel of her soft hand against his face, optics shuttering a little from the tender contact.

Closing the distance between you two, your lips met his. There is a huge size difference of course, but you manage to get into a good spot and a tender sync where you move your lips across his.

Sucking at his bottom lip you gave a teasing nibble, surprising yourself when you feel his metal lips are soft, unlike the rest of him.

The action causes him to let out another groan that drags out longer. You run your tongue along the area you had bit before looking back up at him, waiting for his next command.

He looks almost shy, and you find that rather adorable.

You let out a gasp when you feel his digit move under you and press the thick side against your throbbing mound.

"Go ahead, pleasure yourself against me, and don't stop."

You are willing to do everything he says.

Gently gripping onto his servo you start to rock your hips against him, grinding yourself as you let out heated gasps, eyes never leaving his optics. Your clit is in perfect position, running along a small bump on his digit that tickles you just right in the most beautiful way.

Optimus watches you through a soft yet aroused stare, mouth hanging open slightly as his vents hitch again, optics moving over your rocking body, carefully reading every detail about you and your actions. You were listening to him, and that's what he wants.

Your head leans to the side against another digit, eyes closing as your hips pick up in speed. You're huffing and whimpering softly as your core throbs more against Optimus, licking your lips as you seek for orgasim.

"Don't be so quick to finish. You can only do that when I say." Optimus says as you look up at him with whimpering eyes. "Please, y/n. You can only overload when I say you can."

He wants to control you, in a kind way, and this is supposed to be your punishment. You don't want to disobey him again.

"Yes sir." You manage to answer before slowing your hips, another whimpering pout leaves you, but you keep a slow pace against him.

Your fingers grip into the padding of his digit, the side of her cheek rubbing against it while you feel your juices start to leak and create a small pool within his servo.

"Good girl." Optimus praises you, which only makes your mound twitch with desire at his beautiful words.

Your free hand moves up to one of your bouncing breasts and you start to massage into it, pinching your nipple lightly pushing another satisfied moan from you.

"Optimus..." His name whispers as you keep a slow movement at your hips against him, merwing softly as you feel your core already about to snap.

"Not yet." He notices your close and you listen to him, holding back for as long as you can for him before he continues talking. "Primus...I've watched you for so long, but I was always afraid to admit the truth to you. Knowing you feel the same about me brings warmth to my spark. Will you be mine, y/n?"

"Yes...yes, a thousand times yes." You chant through your building pleasure boiling through you, making him smile softly at your response.

"You may overload."

At the given command you let yourself go, rocking harder, humping, louder moans echoing from your voice before your core snapped and your orgasim erupts through your trembling body.

You don't care if anyone hears you as you want the others to know you belong to Optimus Prime.

Sagging against his servo your heated pants fog against his digit before slowly pushing yourself upwards to look at him.

He brings you closer, not realising he had grabbed a blanket from somewhere and placed it on his shoulder, leaning against his beth so you had a comfortable spot to lay with him.

You snuggle like purring cat into the blanket and nuzzle as close as possible into Optimus, craving to be close to him.

After a moment of heavy breathing you manage to find your voice. "Are things really that bad for my family?" You can't help but ask.

"Things will be sorted for you and your family. Don't worry, you're always safe with me. I'll protect you. But you cannot leave the base, you'll need to remain here until further notice," He answers and you understand.

"I promise not to disobey anymore." You say through a tired voice.

"I'm glad to hear." Optimus lets out a soft hum that vibrates through you gently, making you hum back in return.

"I never want to lose you." You are half asleep as you say this, before drifting off into a heavy sleep.

"You won't. As I never want to lose you. I love you."

Optimus silently swore on his spark to keep you safe, no matter what.

[sapphybandit]

Could I learn more about what being poly means to you? I've heard it from a few people. I have trouble putting into words myself, but usually the times I've heard it explained by a new person its beautiful to me.

Poly is ever shifting, ever changing. It is the learning and re-learning of the self, beyond just Wants and Needs. The acceptance that moments and memories forged are eternal, that nothing can take away the love that was experienced when your two stars collided, no matter how long you were entwined. You gained new perspectives and experienced a world different to your own, forever etched into your psyche, broadening your understanding of your Self, and guiding your next steps forward. Maybe it wasn't perfect, it could've been extremely flawed even, but learning and growth still occurred. But its also more than that. Poly is a spontaneous drive to a late night diner across town for the Vibes. Poly is rekindling sparks once thought buried, from many years ago. Poly is feeling unbridled joy upon a partner's return from her own trip visiting another partner, as she emotionally recounts her adventures with a person you may never meet. Poly is re-discovering your bodies together in ways you never considered before. Poly is learning how to take up space, yet not demanding absolute control. Poly is communication & collaboration; Being open and honest, no matter how scary, while being empathetic, genuine, and fair to prevent wounding. Poly is having 3 to 4 loved ones snuggle on a couch together. Poly is knowing that you're never truly Alone, that you'll always have help. Poly is letting all aspects of the self breathe and spark and ignite vibrantly.

Poly is Hard. But, Poly is beautiful, and right for me.