#i never go out and have enormous trouble keeping in contact with people or answering messages

[ganondoodle]

struggling again with extreme artblock and general demotivation (as in nothing seems fun or appealing and you sit around staring at nothing doing nothing bc apparently no matter what i do whether drawing or not drawing i end up like this now)

i started to watch skitties totk video (again) and wrote a big post about how much i hate how the gorons are treated there but saved it as a draft like i have been doing with several rants now in order to not spam people with it over and over

but it does end up feeling like talking to a wall and just kinda .. increasing this looming feeling of extreme loneliness i have been fighting with for .... since i left school really..

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Suit of Hearts || Drabble

Fandom: Xmen

Warnings: Bittersweet, Hurt/Comfort, whatever you wanna call it. There's some angst here basically, and uh, I think what Miranda goes through counts as a panic/anxiety attack?

Wordcount: 4041

Summary: But now the day bleeds into nightfall, and you're not here to get me through it all

aka sometimes you gotta seperate your abandonment issues having OC from her main support unit so she turns to someone else for a spell

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

"I'll be fine, Kurt. Honest."

He wished he could immediately believe that; because she sounded so sure of it herself. Standing underneath the enormous tree where they had their first kiss, at his request to have this conversation, Kurt's yellow eyes quietly met her green ones as he looked for any sign of worry on her end. He knew that she had tuned out of the conversation as soon as it was obvious her name wasn't going to be on the list of people who were going to be send to a mission in Germany.

But since Kurt's name was, he had been trying to figure out how she actually felt about him having to go overseas. Without her. If she was worried, she wasn't showing it.

"Will you? I... I can't help but worry this is going to open an old wound for you. This mission will keep me busy most of the time I'm there, so I can't really contact you, or help, if your worries start playing up."

Her neutral body language seemed to soften a little at that, and his followed suit. She placed a hand on his cheek, he immediately placed his over hers.

"I appreciate that a lot, Kurt; but your team needs you. Rogue, Cyclops and Morph need you on this mission; I promise I'll be fine. I have my team, my family right here, I'll spend more time with them. You're only going to Germany, hardly the end of the world or some distant plane of existence," she let a comfortable silence fall so the words had time to sink in, taking his free hand into her own and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it to which his heart simply melted, "just promise me you'll come back to me in one piece, okay?"

"I promise," he answered in a heartbeat, to which she gave him a soft little smile.

"You're not leaving until next Monday, anyway," she said softly as she let herself get pulled into his embrace, "plenty of time to spend together before you have to go."

Regardless, that Monday inevitably rolled around. Miranda had snuck out of the mansion, popping back into view from her invisibility as she was actually meant to be in the danger room right about now. She heard a poof somewhere behind her, turning to her right a little as a very familiar hand beckoned her to come over to just behind the building before vanishing behind the stones itself

"Sorry about that," he whispered when she very casually made her way around the corner of the building, "but Rogue's watching, I don't think she really bought my excuse that I forgot something. Well, not really an excuse, because I did forget something."

He pulled his rosary necklace over his clothes; it was something he could get Rogue to believe as he never went without one on the jet. She didn't need to know it had been around his neck and under his outfit pretty much from the moment he had woken up.

"More importantly, I didn't want to leave without kissing you. You could just say no and I'll have to stay, of course," he grinned at the last part, and she just laughed softly in response, appreciating the light humor of it.

"No, Kurt, we're not doing takebacks like that. They need you to translate," but she still leaned in to kiss him, glad when he kissed back.

"Now go, before you get in trouble with your sister," she said, her voice a lot softer, "and stay safe, okay?"

"I will. See you soon, Süßer."

She watched him disappear into his signature cloud of smoke, sighing while she added 'I love you' to her words in her mind. She felt like she was doing a great job consistently failing to find a right time, a right moment, to tell him. Her eyes widened a little as she realised she was supposed to be in the danger room to train. She clicked her invisibility back on, making her way to the nearest window to shove open and hop back inside the mansion.

A few of her team members stood in front of the danger room, clearly waiting on her as the man with auburn hair in a ponytail spoke up

"We'll just give her a few more minutes, otherwise we'll-"

"I'm here," appearing seemingly out of nowhere Miranda sheepishly joined the small group of three, making it four with her inclusion, "sorry, Ebak, something came up and I lost my sense of time for a minute. I'm here now."

"I thought I was the only one that happened to," Shadow laughed, though her eyes were very deliberately pointed to Drifting as she did.

"Look, I dont have E's quantum teleportation, five minutes late is not that bad in the grand scheme of things; and the longer we stand here debating the philosophical nature of the passage of time the less training time we'll have."

"Do we have anything to debate timewise when we have Lemming?" asked the man with the beard, to which Miranda just nodded in agreement.

"Exactly. Besides, I have yet to see this werebear form you all say Ber has, hidden away in him. Which seems like the easiest way to fulfil my dream of petting a bear without dying, so why are we out here arguing?"

"If bear not friend, why bear friend shaped?" Ber said with a shrug, laughing a deep hearty laugh as the other three shot their glances at him and three voices simultaneously went "Ber, no."

And thus for a little while, Miranda was actually, genuinely fine. She had people to turn to, finding company and comfort with her friends; each one of them seemingly hellbent on making her die with laughter as their jokes often built on each other. On the other hand she also adored talking to them about when they first realised they were mutants. And all in all it made her feel less bad for leaning on Kurt when she did, because she did genuinely have other people she could also ask for input and comfort; and in that she hoped she would stop feeling like she was straining him and taking advantage of his kindhearted nature.

But even all of that helps little when time ticks by on the clock, second by second, until Miranda saw it turn to 3 am and a groan left her, her mind unwilling to let her sleep. Time control abilities sounded wonderful right about now. She pushed herself up in a sitting position, staring distantly into her dark bedroom hearing the soft but ever moving tick of the clock on the wall.

'I wish he was here right now.'

Though it came from a soft voice in the back of her mind, no matter how softly spoken it was, she still much felt like someone had taken a dagger and stabbed it directly through her heart with zero warning, audibly wincing to herself from the sudden sting of pain. Looking up to the ceiling in almost a desperate plea for her eyes to not start watering with tears, Miranda slowly got out of her bed and back into regular clothes. Maybe getting some fresh air would do her some good, and with that in mind she tried to ignore the low whine of her heart as she wandered out of the front door, shutting it behind her and leaning against the wall right next to her. Her arms crossed over her chest as she looked out into the night.

Quite a lovely night, all things considered; the air was cool but not cold, a gentle breeze going past her and the night sky was filled with stars. It was too beautiful a night to be upset in this was, it was ridiculous to be upset in this way. He was coming back soon and then everything would be okay.

'In what world is two and a half weeks soon?!' her heart whined in protest.

At that same moment, Gambit returned from a solo thing he had gone on earlier in the evening, carefully approaching her with a card in between his fingers as he hadn't expected to see anyone lingering outside the mansion this late- but he tucked the card back in the deck as soon as he recognized it was just Miranda.

"Mais, mon ami; Gambit almost took you for an intruder. Again," he noted, "You usually tap out at 1 am or so, isn't it way past your bedtime?"

Wasn't his best joke, he would admit to that wholeheartedly himself, but the way her million mile stare had been going straight through him without her even acknowledging him once didn't sit well with him with the odd vibe she was giving off.

"... Miranda?" he asked, a little relieved when her name seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in, "are you okay?"

He hadn't meant for that to have the same effect as taking a hammer directly to a mirror. Where she had her arms over her chest before, now looked like she was hugging herself in pure desperation to keep herself from shattering apart. Tears that weren't there before poured over her cheeks, her breathing high and panicked as whatever was upsetting her seemed to have a chokehold on her. Gambit panicked a little, debating on what the hell to do and hesitantly reaching a hand out to her until he supportively placed it on her shoulder.

"What's wrong, chère?"

"I miss him so much."

"Who, Kurt?"

Oh he just had to actually say it and immediately make it worse, didn't he? He half expected her to vanish from sight, but she didn't, a temporary flicker of her power seemingly being all she could manage as all her energy went into trying to get a grip on herself.

It was too much, the way the words had almost sounded strangled coming out of her as she squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her embrace on herself. She felt completely torn open, vulnerable, emotionally raw; all she yearned for being either that he would magically appear right now instead of over two weeks away, or failing that for some other way to hide as her invisibility refused to respond to her input.

Green eyes met worried red ones, and in less than the blink of an eye she stepped to him. She let go of herself only to lock her arms around him and pulling him to her with a ferocity he hadn't expected out of her, a noise of surprise and confusion leaving him as she hid her face in the fabric of his jacket over his shoulder. As far as he was concerned he wasn't usually anyone's first choice for this kind of comfort, but the sound of her crying pulled at his heartstrings so bad that he wrapped an arm around her, placing his free hand gently against the back of her head.

"He'll be back before you know it," he said in a soft, hushed tone, trying to soothe her.

"I know I'm being stupid," she managed to get out in between the sobs that left her, "it's like, not even three weeks- but what- what if he runs into trouble? W-what if he's left behind?!"

"Drifting-" he tried to interrupt the spiral he could see her go on in real time, but she interrupted him just as fast

"What if he gets lost, or hurt, or something else happens and they-"

"Miranda," his voice was soft but firm; brotherly in nature in a way she didn't remember he had ever spoken to her before, "Rogue is not going to leave Germany without her brother. Breathe, petite. In, hold, out. Before you wear yourself out or worse."

He just held her, shielding her from the night's breeze as all her fears poured out through the cracks of her broken resolve. Kurt could easily navigate Germany by himself, and that was not even considering that Rogue would simply toss him over her shoulders and bring him back home herself that way if she had to, but the truth wouldn't help when her anxiety was taking reign like this, nor would it make the fear she projected any less real to her.

"Listen to me, chère; these hypothetical what ifs are going to drive you crazy. Your mind is trying its best to convince you otherwise, but I promise you; he'll come back," riding out the storm with her, Gambit let her cry until the sobs that wrecked her body subsided into softer sniffles, "Willing to bet he promised so, himself."

That seemed to do the trick, as she slightly pushed herself away from him but appreciated that he didn't immediately let go; she herself only far enough away to look up at him

"He... I asked him to come back in one piece," she admitted quietly, wiping at her eyes with the palm of her hand, "he.. promised he would."

"There ya go. Gambit's never seen Nightcrawler break a promise like that in his life. He ain't gonna start now."

"... Thank you," and with that she did fully push herself out of his embrace, with him easily letting her go and being somewhat proud of himself that she had calmed down by a lot, "Oh, what the fuck is wrong with me. I was fine; I was doing fine about this. Hell, I have been through a lot worse, by myself, so why am I suddenly bawling my eyes out just because my best friend needs to be in another continent for a while? I'm-"

"It's easy to be fine even when you're missing someone if there's people around to distract you from it. But at these times of night, where everyone else you turn to is asleep and you have to fall back on yourself especially when you only just got used to having the support of others?" he quickly but gently wiped away a lingering tear on her cheek that she hadn't gotten to before, the gesture soft and familial, "That is hard, mon ami. If it helps any, I do think you're very brave. This can't be easy for you."

"It helps a lot, actually. Thank you." it really made a difference that he thought of her as brave instead of stupid or overdramatic. He just nodded at her thanks, tossing a quick glance to the front door.

"'S alright. Don't mention it. Here's what; how about we go inside? Get some tea, play some card games?" he gave a slight smirk at the confused look on her face, "Gambit's glad to distract you a little while longer until you're tired enough to get some sleep."

"I'd... yes, I'd like that. ... Remy? Can you- would you please keep this between us? I appreciate all your help, but... I think I'd prefer if only you knew that I was a desperate trainwreck tonight."

"Hm, how did you put that once upon a time, fifolet? Not my story to tell, right? Come along now."

He gently ushered her inside and along to the kitchen, allowing her to sit down wherever she wanted as he put the kettle on. Taking out his deck of cards, he started shuffling them while waiting for the water to boil, red eyes looking up at his friend.

"Any preference for what we play?"

"As long as it's easy to follow, I don't really care."

The minutes once again went by while they spent their time playing card games, quietly and calmly as he wasn't in a rush to get anywhere and she didn't have the energy for anything speed based; occasionally sipping their teas and reminding each other to not let it go cold.

"So," Gambit eventually started, breaking the surprisingly serene silence between them, "What’cha gonna do when he comes back?"

He just smirked ever so slightly and rolled his eyes as she shrugged, not dignifying his question with an answer as if that would stop him from prodding just a little to see if she would actually spill what the situation was there. For as much as it didn't seem unreasonable for her to be equally as upset if he was merely one of her best friends, something told him there was definitely more going on.

"Come now, chère. You're willing to pour your heart out to me but only in pints at a time? You like the furball, don't you? I think you'll be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn't; hell, Gambit don't trust anyone who say they don't like him at least a little."

"I wish I was more like him," Miranda responded after thinking about it in silence for a moment, "like, I don't know. Kinder. Easier to get along with. Happier. I know he has a lot going on, too, with his mom, and what not...."

Gambit just nodded at that, because it was a fair point to make. You would be just as equally hard pressed to find someone in the Xmen who didn't have some kind of deeper issue going on that they found it hard to talk about. Him included.

"I don't know. For him to have been dragged through so much, and still come out the other end wanting for and trying his hardest to make a better world? To choose to be as kind as he is? That takes a kind of inner strength I wish I had. Last card."

"Probably one of the better X-men to look up to, honestly," he shrugged as well, tossing up another card with a smirk.

"You- damn it. Never mind about the last card, then. You're really not that bad yourself, Remy. You just need to stop selling yourself short."

"Said the pot to the kettle like they're not the exact same color. Last card."

"Touche,” she handed him the win as she ran out of tea, lightly rubbing her eyes as the comfortable vibe between them just hanging out was starting to get to her. The fact that he stuck around even in the aftermath of the emotional storm was honestly incredibly sweet, no matter how much he tried to say he wasn’t worthy of looking up to, "thank you for this, Remy. You're a good friend, you know? I’m… Honestly, I’m glad you showed up when you did. I don’t think I would’ve wanted anyone else to see that I turn into a clingy mess after only three days of.. well, you know,”

He simply gave her a slight, appreciative huff, gathering his cards and casually but rapidly reshuffling the deck multiple times out of habit.

"Funny you mention that, because Gambit's got a feeling you'll be in for a good surprise when he comes home. Think you'll find you're not the only one in the game who we can describe as clingy to people they miss. Don't believe me, do ya?" he asked as he saw the look in her eyes, amused by her slight disbelief at his implication that Kurt was missing her and clingy as well, "wanna bet?"

"Betting? Against Gambit? Hard pass, buddy, the cards were never in my favor like that; that's why I've never been a gambling woman. I'm going to bed. Don't make it too late yourself now, alright? Take care of yourself."

Gambit just hummed a goodnight, shuffling the cards once more but slowly and deliberately this time around instead of his usual speed for it.

"I don't buy that you don't buy the man's clingy, mon ami," he muttered to the empty room and himself, "not when even the missions you two get involved in require him to get so close to you. If you're really best friends, or should I say 'just friends', I don't buy for a minute that he hasn't been dragging you into hugs."

Setting his deck in front of himself, he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, mumbling something to himself in Cajun French before taking the first card from the deck. He promptly let out a genuine laugh at what it showed

“Seems like the cards ain't buying your bluff either," he said between light chuckles, flicking the ace of hearts in his fingers before casually placing it down on the table.

As the days went by, their return was just as inevitable as their departure to Germany had been before. Miranda had simply vanished from the mansion beforehand, having kept her schedule open for it and dancing around the subject vehemently when anyone asked about it. While keeping herself somewhat hidden from where the jet actually landed, because she didn't actually want to try and play this off to Morph or Rogue especially, she still couldn't stop a weird sense of anxiety spiking. She watched Cyclops leave the jet, closely followed by- a second Cyclops, and she rolled her eyes a little. Oh, Morph.

Rogue seemed to linger for a moment longer, following after them a longer moment later, again causing her anxiety to spike up a level. Was she talking to someone, had she seen her out here and needled Kurt about someone clearly waiting for him? Speaking of, where was- He truly appeared right out of nowhere, pretty much tackling her into a hug before flitting and teleporting so fast her mind couldn't keep up with what he was doing; somehow landing bridal style in his arms and barely registering that as he had already whisked her off to her own bedroom.

"Hi~ Actually wait," and before she could even breathe to say something else he was gone, returning a few moments and a wardrobe change into comfortable clothes later only to be exactly where he had been before and easily, lightly tossing her into his embrace to which she couldn't help but squeak, "much better. Hi, Süßer, I missed you~"

He nuzzled into her shoulder, purring all the way as his tail wrapped around her waist, and all Miranda could wonder for a second is how the hell she lost a bet with Gambit when she didn't even actually take it on. Her heart simply melted at the return of comfort she had genuinely missed so bad, the familiarity and warmth of his embrace so inviting that her mind finally processed he was actually home. And the moment it did, she wrapped her arms around him, clutching on as she burrowed her face away in his shoulder.

"Missed you too," she said, voice muffled by his fur until she lightly pushed away just so she could get up a little and look into his eyes. Freeing one of her arms, she put her hand gently on the curve of his jaw, allowing herself to get lost in his eyes for a little bit before a slight smirk curled around her lips, "and the fine for the absolute crime of leaving me here to miss you is cuddles and kisses, sir. Honestly, how dare you?"

He laughed at the clear tone of humor in her voice as her faked offense was meant to lighten the mood, but he happily obliged in paying the 'fine', bridging the gap between them to kiss her as his tail wrapped around her ever so slightly more than it already was.

"Seriously though, I missed you, a lot," she quietly admitted when they broke apart from their kiss, nestling her head in the curve of his neck while wrapping her arms back around him and holding on tight, "I do actually need this hug to last a while, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind; nowhere I'd rather be but here."

Okay, fine, she conceded to herself, Gambit had a point. Maybe Kurt was clingy. She didn't need to pretend that he wasn't especially not to people who knew him; wrong move on her part, probably. She listened to the soft purring, the steady beat of his heart, sinking away in the comfort of his equally tight embrace around her that she had missed so much…

Maybe she loved that he was clingy, and from how he was purring up a storm she could only assume he liked her clinginess as well.

[novelconcepts]

I’m sure I’m not the only one hoping you’ll expand on your earlier post about the greenhouse “flat above the pub” flirt-o-Rama if Flora hadn’t...gone and been possessed and all.

“You know I live above that pub, right? Told you that already. Got a little flat right above the boring little pub.”

She knows what she’s doing, is the thing Jamie can’t quite wrap her head around. She absolutely knows what she’s doing. Where on earth is the woman from five days ago, the one who looked at her with such bruised eyes and swollen lips and tried plaintively to pull at her jacket? Where did she go, and who is this bold version in her place?

Dangerous, probably. Already, she’s lowering whatever meager defenses Jamie had managed to craft over the past week. Already, she’s blowing right past them as though never there at all, and Jamie doesn’t fully understand��this. She’s never had trouble blocking someone out before--at least, not someone like Dani, who makes her feel...makes her feel...

Good. Makes her feel like the brightest thing in the room, most days. Makes her feel like no one has ever wanted her there so badly before. 

The woman’s only kissed her once, and already it feels like she’s made a home for Jamie somewhere in her heart. Somewhere under all the bad she’s carrying, under all the flinching she’s done, all the death and loss and fear, there’s a place for Jamie. If she wants it.

She’s looking at Jamie now like she’s proud of how she walked in here this morning. Like she’s proud of how closely she’s standing, how she’s biting her lips now to hold back a grin so enormous, Jamie can’t help but return it. Five days away, and she returns to someone who knows what she’s doing--and what she’s doing is flirting so hard, it’s a wonder the table doesn’t catch fire.

Did that on purpose, she thinks wonderingly. What the fuck is happening. 

***

The coffee, in its own way, worked. Not that she thought Jamie would actually like it, because honestly, it’s bad coffee--and Jamie is just too British for words--but the thing is, it was never meant to be liked. It was only meant to make Jamie smile.

Which it did. Eventually.

Or, she did. Is doing. Right now, as the words tumble out of her--Would you wanna get a drink? Away from the house. Away from all this. That could be kinda boring, right?--a part of her is desperately terrified to realize, she is doing this. She is leaning against this table, clutching a mug of truly toxic coffee, watching Jamie suck in her cheeks like it’s doing a damn thing to erase that smile. She is saying the words she’s been playing over and over in her head for five days running:

“You. And me. Could get a boring old drink. In a boring old pub.” God, her heart is sprinting. It’s entirely possible she won’t get out of this sentence, with all its halting hesitation, alive, much less this greenhouse. “And see where that takes us.”

And this is the part where Jamie will melt, she hopes. Swoon, even. The part the coffee laid road leading to, a glorious red herring approach. Here, where Jamie will see that she means what she says, and she’ll grow faint with whatever affection Dani has earned, and this will all be--

She’s grinning. Jamie, not quite facing her, is grinning. 

“You know I live above that pub, right?” This is not, Dani recognizes, exactly what one might call a swoon. This is the expression of a woman who has done extremely quick math and come up with a calculation Dani had sort of hoped she’d swing right past. When she’d swoon. 

She is not swooning. She is, instead, leaning slightly back, eyebrows raised appraisingly, reminding Dani in one fell swoop that there are people who are eager to flirt and people who are good at the art. And that Jamie, for all her glower and loner tendencies, is very, very good at the art. 

“Told you that already, didn’t I?” Her voice is almost soft, definitely teasing, her expression perfectly arranged to say this is my territory, Poppins, and you had best be careful how you tread in my garden. “Got a little flat. Right above the boring little pub.”

And then she’s...turning back to the work. Turning away, not a blush to be found, not even the hint of a swoon. Dani’s expression, so carefully schooled into neutrality, is breaking into the biggest grin of her life and Jamie has the temerity to not even keep eye contact.

“I mean--you maybe...mentioned it--”

“Only,” Jamie goes on, still focused on the task at hand--which Dani does not in the least understand, though there’s something to be said for Jamie in profile: head bent, eyes attentive, hands working into soil. Jamie never quite looks so alive as when she’s working, as though it is only in garden or greenhouse that she truly allows herself to flourish. 

Would she look that alive, Dani wonders with unbidden curiosity, anywhere else? Maybe in the boring little flat, maybe with me, maybe--

“Only,” Jamie repeats, darting a small glance her way. Dani realizes she’s staring, closes her mouth. “I figure there are plenty of places two people could go on a date. Which is, if I’m not mistaken, what you’re suggesting. Isn’t it?”

“It...I--yes.” No point denying it. No point trying to wash away the simple brazen fact. A boring little date. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t have to be a big--

“So,” Jamie says, her voice still doing that dangerous thing Dani doesn’t quite understand and can’t quite turn her attention from. That dangerous half-soft, half-amused thing that is all accent, all in control, all turning Dani’s own courage back on her like a firehose. “We could do it anywhere, couldn’t we? Doesn’t have to be the pub.”

“I--” Dani resists the urge to close her eyes. She’s going to make me say it. She really is. This wasn’t the plan, exactly. The plan had been so much simpler. It had not taken into account Jamie, who is going down into this thing with her willingly--but maybe not easily. “I mean, I just--”

“Just curious,” Jamie goes on breezily, drawing her hands from the soil at last and taking a slow step closer. The space between, already limited at best, reduces to nearly nothing in that single motion. Dani swallows.

“About?”

“It’s particular,” Jamie points out. A slight shift of hips, a nearly negligible twist of the waist, and she’s got Dani backed into a corner. Or, more accurately, against a table. “The pub. Bit curious, is all, why you’d want to get me into that pub.”

***

This poor woman is going to burst into flames, Jamie thinks, and maybe they’ll both deserve it. She isn’t upset with Dani anymore--has found in the span of about five minutes that there’s no staying upset with Dani when she turns those huge blue eyes on full-force, stands just so, puts on the bravest face Jamie has seen her wear since stalking Peter Quint through the night. She isn’t upset, exactly.

But Dani seems to think this was going to be easy. A cup of coffee. A slick line. She seems to think Jamie was just going to lean into it. 

Which she is. In her own way.

She’s careful not to touch Dani, not to press in with her body to such a degree that Dani will feel trapped. She’s only standing, a tiny width of space between them, her hands loose at her sides. Only standing, polite, smiling, waiting for an answer.

“Bit curious, is all, why you’d want to get me into that pub.”

“I don’t--I think--I mean--” Dani shakes her head slowly, her eyes wide and imploring. “Do you not...want to get a drink...”

“Didn’t say that.” The last five days haven’t been enjoyable. Burning sick days, pretending to be too ill to check in on the house, had felt cowardly. The shame in her stomach, twisting like acid around the hot desire of the memory, had felt familiar in the worst way--like being seventeen again, not knowing where to put all of these too-fierce feelings. Anger would have been easier. Disappointment, shame, embarrassment--each too heavy to put down on its own--had made for the worst kind of cocktail.

This, though. Dani looking at her--not needing to tip her head back, not needing to peer down, simply looking straight ahead and making perfect eye contact--feels good. Feels better than good. Feels like she’d felt in the moments before the flinch, when Dani had grinned into her mouth and pushed hard against her like she’d been waiting for this moment for days. This, Dani drawing deep breaths, clutching her mug, feels liking picking up right where they’d left off. 

Dangerous, she thinks again. Dangerous, to let Dani in this way. Dangerous, to admit how alive she feels, teasing her this way. 

Dangerous, every time Dani’s eyes flick to her lips and back again. 

“You’re really not going to say it,” she says, shaking her head in a parody of disappointment, reaching in gently to pluck the mug from her hands and set it aside. “Poppins. Really. First rule of flirting.”

“What’s that?” There’s a challenge in Dani’s smile, she thinks. A challenge so light and so free--and so intoxicating in its authenticity--she can’t help but laugh. She makes a show of leaning close, watching Dani’s eyes darken, watching Dani’s breath catch.

“Always be ready to commit.”

***

She’s going to kiss me, Dani thinks. Here. Now. Six in the morning, she’s going to do it. 

But, of course, Jamie doesn’t. Jamie, who thought it had been her Dani was trying to get away from the other night. Jamie, who took it so to heart she hadn’t even come back for nearly a week. 

It’s been so strange, going through the motions without Jamie around. Strange and hollow, and Dani knows--the way you know you can’t keep holding your breath much longer--life will never feel quite as vibrant without Jamie in it. 

Didn’t take long at all, she thinks, remembering the shadow of a young man standing before a dying fire. Didn’t take long at all, but I can’t not know that. 

Jamie’s here now, a crooked little half-smile on her lips, her eyes bright, but there’s something she’s still holding back. Something she’s still not absolutely sure Dani won’t let fall, split upon collision with the ground. 

She isn’t going to kiss Dani. She’s just going to stand here, making her crazy, smiling exactly like that. 

“Always be ready to commit.”

And there are other things Dani could do, it’s true--laugh, push at her shoulder, make another horrific stab at imitating her accent. There is plenty Dani could do.

But just now, with Jamie standing this close, with the air crisp and this single room so different than it had felt days ago, she’s not sure she can be blamed for what she settles on.

Not sure anyone could blame her for sliding a hand around Jamie’s middle, pushing off the table, using the momentum to twist until it’s Jamie backed against the table, Jamie looking at her with genuine surprise on her face.

That, Dani thinks with terrified glee. That’s the look I was going for. 

"Consider me committed,” she says, and though Jamie had been careful not to touch her, she finds herself unable to do the same. Her hips press Jamie backward, one hand clenching at the small of Jamie’s back. The other finds Jamie’s sleeve, less for contact, more a desperate bid for balance.

“Touché,” Jamie says in a low voice--not that easy flirtation tone this time, but something less in control. “My, ah. Hands are dirty.”

“Do you want me to come back later?” 

Jamie laughs, leans forward, shakes her head. “Didn’t say that.”

It wasn’t the plan, to kiss her here. She’d meant only to apologize--or, not apologize, but make clear that she was sorry how it had gone, that there are paths she very badly wants this to take that are the right way, the best way, the way it should have been all along. She’d meant only to make that clear, to land her proposal, to make Jamie feel a fraction as giddy as Jamie makes her every damn day.

And yet, with Jamie kissing back, Jamie making a helpless sound of frustration as her hands tip backward to grip the table behind her instead of ruining Dani’s coat, it feels right. It feels like meaning what she’s said. It feels like commitment. 

“For the record,” she adds, pulling away to breathe. Jamie’s knuckles are stark around the table, her elbows bent, her chest heaving. “This is why I’d like to get you into that pub. Or your boring little flat. More of this.”

“Could’ve just said so,” Jamie says, and maybe it’s not swooning, exactly--but the flush in her face is deeply satisfying all the same, particularly when she tips her head back to allow Dani access to her neck. 

“I thought I’d be polite about my desire to get you into bed, thank you.”

“Polite,” Jamie repeats, her voice sharpening when Dani slips a hand into her hair and kisses just above the collar of her jumpsuit. “Right. Completely slipped my mind.”

“I am,” Dani insists, pushing her harder against the table, “very polite.”

She is alive, here in this greenhouse, choosing Jamie. She is alive, and she is free, and she is all but breathless when Jamie--patience giving at last like the final strand of a snapping rope--slips both hands into her coat and clenches her hips. Jamie, who is so alive with her hands at work, and so much more so now, kissing until Dani is sure they’re both going to give up the idea of a date altogether and just settle for that rumpled little couch.

“Okay,” Jamie says at last, tipping her head away. Her hands are under Dani’s sweater, tracing the warm skin of her back, and Dani finds she couldn't care less about the dirt. “Okay. You’ve made your point, Poppins.”

“I have?”

“Mm.” Jamie leans her head down against Dani’s shoulder, exhales almost shakily. “No scary-bug flinch. Very good. Best save the rest for the boring little pub, yeah?”

Dani doesn’t want her to go. Doesn’t want her to pull free, put those hands back to work with plant and seed and root. Jamie is grinning again, brighter than anything Dani has seen in days, and Dani wants to stay within sight of that smile for the rest of her life. 

“You’ve got kids to wake. And I’ve got...um...things.”

“Things,” Dani repeats. Jamie nods. 

“Important things. With...plants...the work.” She reaches vaguely for a trowel, gestures with it like she’s considering bringing it to war. “Look, it’s early, I was not prepared for any of this, Poppins.”

Dani laughs, extricating herself at last and recovering her mug. Leaving is the last thing she’d like just now, but Jamie isn’t wrong--the kids will be up soon, and the day will fall into its usual register. Except, this time, she’ll know Jamie is out here, thinking about boring pubs and boring dates and the least boring kiss of Dani’s life. 

“Would,” she says, pausing at the door to glance back, “you call what you’re feeling now a swoon, by chance?”

Jamie blinks. “I--um.”

“Never mind.” The answer, Dani decides, is almost certainly yes. 

***

Honestly, thinks Jamie, watching her stroll--stroll! as if Dani Clayton strolls anywhere!--out the door, she did every last bit of that on purpose. 

“Swoon,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “Don’t fuckin’ swoon.”

It would, she thinks as she tries in vain to remember where she’d left off, explain the vague sense she might at any moment pass out--but Dani doesn’t need to know that.

If she gets any more brazen, after all, Jamie is going to be in serious fucking trouble.

[deiitaelric]

bkdk split up - part 3

PART 2 HERE

*you know, unedited, and English it’s not my fist language so, sorry for the mistakes that are going to be made*

-----

Some classmates entered the room at that moment and found Teen Kacchan there, who was still near the door, all angry. Kirishima went straight to him.

“Hey, Baku-bro, where have you-? Wait! What?” The redhead stopped dead when he were just two feet apart from the other. “You have rejuvenated!”

“Who the fuck are you” Teen blurted.

Original Kacchan rolled his eyes on the couch. “I’m here, man”

Kirishima turned to look at him, as well as all the other students there, and blinked in confusion.

“There are too many Kings Explosion Murderers in here” Kaminari said, walking toward the couches with a playful and curious face.

“What happened?” Uraraka asked, approaching Izuku. The kid between Izuku’s arms pulled apart a little at the sound of her closer voice. The girl looked at his spiky blond hair. “Is that a baby Bakugou-kun?” She sat beside Izuku.

Izuku nodded, smiling, and mini Kacchan stared two seconds more at the older blonde before pulling back to turn and look at her. 

“Hi, I’m Uraraka”

“I’m Katsuki” The little boy responded, looking at her with his enormous red eyes. She glanced at Izuku, smiling with a little blush and he smiled back. The kid looked at Izuku, putting a hand on the side of his chin, like asking to look at him instead of her. “Do you know her?”

“Yes. She’s our classmate. They are too” He added, pointing to the other boys who were talking to the other Kacchans. Mini Kacchan looked at them for a few seconds until deciding they didn't matter. He locked eyes with the girl.

“He-He’s staring at me” Uraraka whispered to Izuku, without breaking eye contact with the kid.

“Kacchan, don’t be rude. Why do you keep looking at people like that?” Izuku placed a hand on his spiky hair and the kid smirked at Uraraka. She tilted his head in confusion, why was she feeling like having some kind of competition?

More classmates entered the room and quickly they all were making questions and wanting to talk to them, especially the little one. The kid seemed pleased with the attention, but he would come back to Izuku once in a while. He would do that especially when one of his two stare-adversaries, that is to say Older Kacchan or Uraraka, were around Izuku.

The young adult was aware of this and grabbed Izuku aside when one of the teens was showing the kid his quirk. Izuku felt nervous immediately because of the intensity of those crimson eyes looking at him.

“Wha-What do you wanna talk about?”

“How’s our relationship right now?” The blonde asked right away.

“What?”

“I mean, with your me?”

“My you? Oh. You mean my timeline’ Kacchan? It’s… I don’t know. Better, that’s for sure”

“Are you friends?”

“Well, that depends on who you ask” Izuku laughed nervously, scratching one cheek and looking away.

“I’m asking you”

“I- Yes. I think we’re friends” Izuku looked back up at him. He was a bit taller than his Kacchan, and thicker. Izuku gulped hard.

“Probably he would say the same” Katsuki inquired. “Well, not say, you know, but… I think he felt the same way” The young man glanced back at the room, at himself-past version.

“You think? Don’t you remember?” Asked Izuku, curiosity palpable in his voice.

“Hm, I don’t know where exactly I am”

“That matter?”

“Yeah, it matters a lot” He glanced back at Izuku. “I- You know how I am. I’m not good at feelings”

“I know. How’s our relationship in the future, anyway? Are we good friends?”

Older Kacchan smiled and Izuku’s heart warned him he couldn’t take another of those, or he would stop working correctly. “You can say so” And he said it with that husky voice in a way Izuku couldn’t handle, either. His face grew red and his heart started racing like crazy. Older Kacchan, obviously, noticed everything and smirked, raising a hand to pinch one of Izuku’s cheeks. “You are too cute for your own good”

“Whaa-chan…? Wha-What are you sa-saying?” Izuku hid his face with both hands and heard Katsuki laugh. It was just too much. Izuku let his back rested against the wall and slid slowly until his butt reached the floor.

“Did I break you?”

“…y-yeah” Katsuki laughed again, a little louder this time.

“Hey, the fuck are you doing?” Izuku looked up at the sudden change in the mood. But that wasn’t Older Kacchan’s question, it was Original’s. Izuku looked at him between his fingers. Original Kacchan was striding towards them, a deep frown on his face and a hand ready to attack. The young man rested his hands on his hips without saying a word. “You okay?” Original asked, glancing only a second towards Izuku, who stopped hiding his face.

“He’s okay, right?” Older Kacchan said, looking at Izuku and moving to offer him a hand. But Katsuki put himself between them.

“Get up” Katsuki said without looking back at Izuku, but the latter did. The blonde teen turned and grabbed Izuku���s arm without taking his eyes off the older one and started walking, dragging Izuku with him. When they were some feet apart, Katsuki released Izuku and turned to face him.

“What happened?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me! Was he being a bitch to you? Why were you on the floor?”

“N-No. He was being nice, I just… It’s nothing, really” He shook his head and Katsuki sighed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, he’s you, Kacchan” Izuku said it like it was some final statement.

“That just why, stupid”

“Wha- Kacchan!” Izuku scolded him. “You are not like that, and you won’t be”

“Fuck, Deku, I was like that” The blonde blurted, looking away. Izuku looked at Teen Kacchan, who was half flattered with the attention, half pissed off.

“But you aren’t, and you won’t, okay? I can handle him” Izuku indicated to the teen with a movement of his head.

“Tch” Katsuki only crossed his arms.

“What? I could handle you back then, I can handle him right now” Katsuki’s brows furrowed and Izuku found himself smiling. “Are you worried about me?”

“I’m not! But you always get yourself in trouble, it’s fucking annoying!”

“Well, thanks for coming save me even if I didn’t need saving”

“Whatever, nerd, just don’t get yourself in trouble”

“I won’t. Mini Kacchan is prepared to protect me, and the older one…” He glanced a moment at the said and received a half-side smile. Izuku flustered. “Well, maybe I should keep distance with that one”

“Why? Seriously, what happened?”  

“Nothing, it’s just… He’s from the future, you know, I kinda want to ask him a ton of questions and I shouldn’t” Izuku excused, though it was true.

“He’s not gonna answer, either way” Katsuki diverged his view toward his older self. 

“I know, he’s you, after all, but…” Izuku caressed his cheek where the young adult had pinched him and smiled slightly. He then felt a tug on his sleeve and found the kid with his arms crossed, looking at him. “Hey, what’s it?”

“I’m hungry”

“Sure. I’ll go make something, okay?”

“You know how to cook?” Inquired the little blonde.

“Of course!” Izuku assured.

“No” Denied Katsuki at the same time.

“What? I do” Izuku looked at him, frowning. Katsuki rolled his eyes and knelt in front of the child.

“Make sure someone else helps him or you’re gonna regret it, trust me” At which Mini Kacchan nodded without hesitation.

“Hey! What happened to that about protecting me? You two are just being mean” Izuku pouted.

“The fuck? I never said I was going to protect you” Katsuki said, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’ll protect you but you’re not good at doing things” Added the kid, shrugging.

“Oh, well. Okay. You know what?” Izuku just started walking away, right towards the young adult. “Hey, would you like to help me make dinner? The other three are not being very nice”

“Sure. I’ll be nice” Izuku smiled at him and turned his face to let out his tongue at the other two, who frowned at once. When the young adult dedicated them a smirk, Katsuki tilted his head, annoyed, and the kid let out a little “Fuck”

“Language, brat” Scolded Katsuki. “But yeah. Fuck”

---

PART 4

[jayeray-hq]

How He Shows You Affection: Kuroo Tetsurou

This one honestly really sucks to have to re-post because it did have a lot of notes thanks to the amazing people on Haikyuu Headquarters who helped me out. However I do want it to show up in the tags so here we are. 😢😢😢 Notes: 120

Post Time Skip/Manga Spoilers!

Warnings: Slight groping, very slight implied NSFW

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

He Fusses Over You

            “Tetsurou?!” you asked more than a little shocked to see your boyfriend standing on your doorstep. You hadn’t expected him to come over, and you frantically wracked your brain trying to figure out if you’d forgotten something or maybe missed a message somewhere, but you were almost sure you hadn’t, “What are you doing here?”

“Aww Kitten, you make it sound like you’re not happy to see me,” he told you a teasing smile on his face, “You going to let me in?”

             “Of course, I’m happy to see you,” you told him taking a step back to let him in, “I just wasn’t expecting you.”

             Which was true. You’d specifically told him earlier that you’d be busy all day, working on a project, so you’d actually expected the opposite, that you wouldn’t get to see him until tomorrow.

             “I know,” he told you sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed you from beneath his bangs, “But I was in the area, thought I’d stop by and see if you’d eaten yet? I brought food.”

             He held up the bag he had in one of his hands that you’d failed to notice, holding it out to you like a peace offering. You immediately noticed the logo on the bag was from one of your favorite take out places, and your heart stomach immediately rumbled eagerly, making you blush. You’d gotten so caught up in your project that you hadn’t actually stopped to eat and were only just belatedly realizing that you were starving.

             “I’ll take that as a no you haven’t,” your boyfriend told you a slightly scolding tone to his voice that made you rather sheepish in turn, “Come on kitten let’s get you fed.”

             You conceded with good grace, and the two of you went to the kitchen. You were even hungrier than you’d initially thought and eagerly dug into your food as your boyfriend watched on, looking half amused, half exasperated.

             “You really need to learn to take breaks,” he told you a concerned frown on his face, “Or at least eat snacks. Going without eating for so long lowers your blood sugar and makes it harder for you to concentrate so it’s better to stop and eat.”

             “You’re one to talk,” you told him amused.

             “Hey I may not take breaks, but I have mastered the art of eating and working at the same time,” he defended with a grin.

             “Tell that to the report you dripped ramen broth all over,” you sassed back.

             “That was one time,” he protested.

             “Crumbs in my couch,” you listed off on your fingers, unable to resist teasing him, “barbeque sauce on your shirt, rice on the floor.”

             “Okay, okay more than once,” he admitted wryly, “But at least I can say I actually eat!”

             You huffed but couldn’t argue with that. He was actually pretty good about his meals, and usually kept an enormous bottle of water and a thermos of tea around too whenever he had long projects.

             “Have a glass of water too,” he told you standing walking to the sink to fetch you just that, clearly reading your mind, “It’s important to keep hydrated!”

             You indulged him, drinking the water he offered and finishing your food all under his watchful eye. Once you’d finished eating he helped you clean up quickly, and paused one last time by the door.

             “Don’t stay up too late,” he told you cupping your cheeks in his palms and affectionately running his thumbs over your cheekbones, “Get at least seven hours of sleep.”

             “I’ll do my best,” you assured him amused and feeling extremely warm and loved from his clear concern for you, moving to press your lips to his in a quick kiss goodbye, a gesture he eagerly accepted, holding you close for several long minutes before reluctantly drawing apart.

             “Keep drinking water,” he insisted as he pulled his shoes on, “Or tea. Call me if you need anything. I’ll keep my phone close.”

             “Okay Tetsu,” you agreed indulgently as you gently shooed him out the door, “I will.”

             “Okay,” he agreed, “Text me goodnight will you, so I know you actually went to bed?”

             “I will,” you assured him again, letting out a huff of amusement, “Really Tetsu you worry too much.”

             “Only for you kitten,” he retorted with a grin, the same one that never failed to make your heart melt.

             “Yeah, yeah,” you told him, though the soft smile on your face undoubtedly gave away your real feelings about the matter

 “I love you,” he told you seriously, pausing in his trip out the door so he could look you in the eye as he said it.

             “I love you too,” you returned, giving him one last quick kiss goodbye, unable to resist stealing another, “I’ll see you tomorrow alright?”

             “Alright,” he agreed, clearly still a little reluctant, though he did leave in the end. You immediately turned to get back to work on your project, feeling incredibly warm, full, well rested, and ready to get back to work. More importantly you felt absolutely loved, and you made a mental note to return the favor sometime soon, for your amazingly sweet boyfriend.

  <b>He Teases You (and Secretly Loves if You Tease Back)</b>

             “Having trouble there kitten?” your boyfriend asked startling so much you nearly fell over, flopping down on to the couch with an unhappy pout on your lips. You’d been trying to move the extremely heavy piece of furniture for over five minutes now and were on the verge of giving up. You’d been so engrossed in your task that you hadn’t even heard your boyfriend come home from work.

             When you glanced up at him he was leaned against the doorway, still in his suit jacket from work, though his tie was loose around his neck, and his arms were folded across his chest. He had an extremely amused look on your face that told you he’d probably been watching you for a while.

             You didn’t bother to answer his question, considering it had a very obvious answer, and you knew any response out of your mouth was bound to get you teased so you chose to say nothing at all. Not that, that stopped his smile from stretching even wider across his mouth, apparently well aware of your tactics and highly amused by them.

             “What are you trying to move the couch for anyway?” he asked curiously.

             “I dropped one of my earrings,” you admitted with a sigh, figuring there was no point in hiding it from him, especially since you were doubtless going to need his help to get it, “And I can’t reach it.”

             “Oya? That is a problem,” Kuroo told you with a mischievous smile on his face, “If only there was a strong, handsome gentleman around to help you with that.”

             “If only,” you lamented, not about to let him get away with teasing you completely, “Do you think Yaku would come over if I asked?”

             “Yaku?” Kuroo sputtered the teasing smile falling off his face replaced with indignation, “You’d call Yaku for help?”

             “Oh how about Lev!” you proposed unable to help your own wide impish smile, “Lev would help me if I asked I’m sure of it!”

             “Lev?” he repeated incensed, “Lev wouldn’t help kitten, he’d probably trip over the couch or break it!”

             You couldn’t hold in your giggles at that earning a huff from your boyfriend who informed you, “You’re a cruel kitten, teasing me this way.”

             “It’s your fault,” you informed him faux haughtily sticking your nose in the air, “You should’ve just helped me instead of teasing me.”

             “Alright, budge up then kitten, let’s get your earring,” he told you straightening up, and pulling off his suit jacket an amused smirk on his face.

             You did as he asked, watching with a slight pout as he easily scooted the couch away to reveal your missing earring. However you didn’t move to grab it right away slightly distracted by the flex of his shoulders beneath the white button up he was wearing, which was incredibly enticing.

             “See something you like?” he asked pulling you away from your ogling a proud smirk on his lips, that told you he knew exactly what you’d been doing.

             “Mm, always Tetsu,” you assured him, knowing that sometimes the best way to deal with his teasing was with complete and utter sincerity, letting your hand caress his back as you moved to grab your earring, and feeling rather cheeky let it slip lower to give him a firm squeeze earning a surprised inhale from your boyfriend.

 You smiled triumphantly as you backed away, inspecting the recovered bit of jewelry pleased to have it back in your possession and to find it hadn’t suffered for its brief time under the couch.

             However, you nearly dropped it again as you were abruptly scooped off your feet and dumped on to the couch, making you yelp in surprise, an amused grin touching your lips as you saw your boyfriend hovering over you.

             “You shouldn’t tease me like that kitten,” he scolded lightly, his eyes alight with affection and desire.

             “Oh?” you teased, well aware that you were pushing his buttons, “What are you going to do about it Tetsu?”

             Needless to say you lost the earring again and had to make your boyfriend move the couch again later to retrieve it as he showed you exactly what he meant to do about it.

  <b>He Always Has to be Touching You</b>

             “Hey everyone,” you greeted cheerfully, as you and your boyfriend slid into the seats that had been saved for the two of you at the monthly gathering of his former volleyball team.

             The group returned your greetings, all of them well used to your presence by now, as you’d been attending them for over a year now. The minute the two of you were settled in your seats Kuroo had his arm thrown over the back of yours, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, absently playing with your shirt collar and gently rubbing your shoulder as the two of you caught up with the rest of the group.

             You talked quietly with Kenma about his latest stream, and how his business had been doing, leaning over to watch the new game he was playing on his phone. The instant you were no longer in contact with the hand he’d had on your shoulder Kuroo’s arm shifted to keep touching you his hand finding the back of your neck, thumb gently playing with the small hairs there and gently massaging every now and then.

             When your food came he removed his arm, apparently not even noticing as he absently set his palm on your thigh under the table, while the group listened to Kai tell them about his new store where he’d be selling plants and flowers, which had been his dream for a long time now.

             Throughout the reunion he never really took his hands off of you absently holding your hand, brushing his arm up against yours, pressing your thighs together under the table, nothing too big or noticeable, but constant and reassuring.

             “The two of you are really disgusting you know,” Yaku informed you suddenly, surprising you.

             “Disgusting?” you repeated more than a bit baffled by this abrupt turn in conversation.

             “It’s gross how absolutely cutesy you act,” he expanded rolling his eyes.

             “Cutesy?” you asked turning your gaze to your boyfriend who looked partially amused, partially confused, apparently not sure what Yaku was talking about either.

             “Don’t be jealous Yaku,” Kuroo told his friend faux brightly, never missing a chance to needle him despite his confusion, “I’m sure you won’t be sad and single forever. There has to be someone out there who will have you.”

             It was more than enough to set the libero off, informing Kuroo that he was more than capable of getting a partner of his own if he wanted to, he just didn’t want to right now because of his thriving career. He honestly played right into Kuroo’s hands, as your boyfriend kept gleefully jabbing away at one of his favorite victims. Meanwhile you turned your gaze to someone far more sensible.

             “Are we really disgusting?” you asked Kenma quietly, a little concerned.

             “It’s fine,” he assured you firmly, eyes not leaving his phone as he answered your question, “It’s not like your PDA is any worse than any other couple’s, your just very consistent about it is all.”

             “PDA?” you repeated baffled, your genuine confusion catching his attention his amber eyes flicking up to study yours intently for a moment before seemingly realizing your confusion was genuine.

             “You’re always touching,” Kenma explained patiently, “Even now you’re touching, though I think it’s more Kuroo’s fault than yours. He reaches for you.”

             You wanted to protest that you weren’t always touching, but then realized you couldn’t especially when even though he’d removed his hand from your thigh to gesture rather rudely at Yaku, he still had his own pressed to yours.

             Curiously you scooted away so you weren’t touching anymore, moving closer to Kenma. However, seconds later he followed, not even seemingly to notice as he shifted closer to you, his attention never deviating from his conversation with Yaku. You did it again, with the same results, and again, and again. He always seemed to seek you out, though on the last one his hand had dropped to catch your own, twining his fingers through yours as if to keep you from moving further.

             You let out a small huff of surprise and amusement, gently squeezing his hand in fondness, your heart feeling like it was about to melt at how surprisingly cute his actions were, especially if they really were automatic. The gesture caught your boyfriend’s attention and he broke off his conversation with Yaku to look at you, a slightly puzzled frown on his face.

             “Everything alright kitten?” he asked, “Did you need something?”

             “No,” you assured him with an affectionate smile, “I’m good, great even.”

             “Oh?” he prompted, clearly curious, though he returned your smile with his own fond look, his eyes soft as he watched you.

             “It’s nothing,” you told him with a grin, “You’re just really cute Tetsu.”

             “That’s nice and all,” Kenma told you before your boyfriend had a chance to respond, cutting off what was no doubt going to be some kind of teasing remark, “But can you move? The two of you are squishing me.”

             “Whoops, sorry Kenma,” you apologized unable to help the amused smile as you realized you’d basically been half sitting in the poor man’s lap in your quest to see Kuroo chase after you.

             The former setter merely rolled his eyes in response, though you could see a hint of amusement on his face as you informed your boyfriend it was all his fault for squishing the two of you given that he was the biggest, while he protested rather vehemently, pouting at you the whole time, and claiming innocence.

             Meanwhile you filed another thing you loved about your boyfriend away in your heart, feeling incredibly lucky to have him.

[just-horrible-things]

This came into my head fully formed. I have no idea what’s going on and I’m probably not going anywhere with it, but here, it is what it is.

---

Family

Nathan’s hands are still shaking as he scrolls through his contacts, looking for a number he’s never thought he’d ever want to call. He told Nana off when she put cousin Tony into Nathan’s phone. But he never deleted the contact. And today he’s glad he didn’t.

It only rings twice before the call connects. “Hello?” answers a jovial, distantly familiar voice, “Who is this?” “Hi.” Nathan can barely breathe, “is this Tony? This is Nathan, uh, your cousin Nathan?” “Nathan Pole!” Tony exclaims. “It really is you! Why, I haven’t heard from you since you were just a little lad, how are you?”

“I’m, well, actually -- I’m so sorry to call like this, but -- actually I need a favour.” “Of course, of course,” comes the unexpected response. “What do you need, my man? Anything for family.” Nathan tries to take a deep breath. It can’t possibly be that easy. “Is, is it safe to talk?” he asks. “I mean, talk freely, are we -- private?” “Well, this is a phone call my man, I can’t promise you it’s completely private.” “Oh,” says Nathan lamely. 

“If you need privacy, face to face is the best way.” The hearty exuberance has faded from Tony’s voice and he is all business. “Where are you? Are you in the city?” “Um, yeah, I’m in Islington.” Nathan feels faintly queasy. What is he doing? “Can you meet me at Uncle Charlie’s -- you know Uncle Charlie’s?” “Uh, yeah, I know it…” “I can be there in half an hour.” “Really?” Nathan stammers. He doesn’t know what he expected but this is definitely moving faster than he expected. “Is that -- okay? You’re not busy?” “Never too busy for family,” cousin Tony promises. He sounds shockingly sincere. “If I’m not mistaken it sounds urgent, no?” “I suppose it is,” Nathan admits. “I, uh, I think it will take me at least an hour, I need to -- well --” “An hour it is. Ten o’ clock at Charlie’s, I’ll see you there.” “Okay,” he agrees helplessly. And his cousin hangs up.

He doesn’t actually make it to Uncle Charlie’s until quarter past, because it takes him twenty-five minutes to find the café. There’s no tables or umbrellas outside, and the facade has seen better days. Cousin Tony meets him at the door.

Tony is a very large man. Not enormously tall, but broad-shouldered and as solid as a tree trunk. His lumberjack shirt is tight over his biceps, and his substantial beer gut does nothing to detract from the overall impression of stability and strength. His friendly grin only makes Nathan feel a little less intimidated. 

Tony’s handshake is firm and warm, and his hand is steady on Nathan’s shoulder as he guides him to a table. Nathan’s legs practically give out and he flops inelegantly into one of the worn upholstered chairs. It’s more comfortable than it looks.

“It’s such a pleasure to see you,” Tony is saying. “You’ve grown so much -- I know, what a clichéd thing to say -- but it’s true.” “I’m so sorry I’m late.” “Don’t worry, don’t worry about a thing. You’re here now and everything’s going to be fine. Take a breath, my man, you look like hell. Here, have a glass of water.” “Oh, thank you.”

Nathan takes a breath and he drinks some water. The chair opposite creaks alarmingly under Tony’s weight as the big man leans back. Nathan takes a few more breaths. The water has ice and lemon and it’s just what he needs. He steadies his hands on the glass as he looks around.

Everything in the café is worn and tired-looking, like Nathan feels, but the more he looks the more he thinks it’s probably intended that way -- some kind of shabby chique -- rather than just in need of upkeep. Nothing’s broken, and everything’s clean. The bare bulbs overhead are frosted glass to soften the glare. 

The only other people in the place are sat at literally the other side of the room, and the elderly man behind the counter -- distantly familiar : Uncle Charlie? -- is reading a book and paying no attention to Nathan and Tony.

“When you’re ready,” Tony starts, “I don’t want to rush you, just letting you know -- you’re safe to talk here. Anything you want to say, here you can speak easy, capiche?” Nathan nods gratefully. “I’m so sorry to drop in on you out of the blue asking for help,” he begins. Tony interrupts with an upheld hand. “No worries,” he declares. “Anything at all, we’re family. If you need us, we’re here.” “Okay, you say that, but.” Nathan swallows, glancing over his shoulder despite Tony’s assurances. “I think I -- I need someone dead.” “Okay,” Tony agrees mildly. He seems utterly unperturbed, and Nathan’s stomach does an uncomfortable flip. “What’s happened, my man? Are you safe? Do you need somewhere to stay?”

All of a sudden, the events of the last week seem to catch up with Nathan all at once. He feels dizzy, and his eyes prickle with the threat of tears. “I--” he tries through a suddenly-choked voice, “I don’t know. I-I -- I think that might be really good.”

Tony leans across the table and clasps Nathan’s arm in a warm, steady grip. “Consider it done,” he promises. “You did the right thing coming to me, cousin. We’ll take care of you. Whatever’s hounding you, I promise we can sort this out.” Nathan sniffles and dabs at his eyes with a napkin. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s--” “Hey, don’t sweat it. Take your time, whatever you need.” He releases Nathan’s arm and leans back again, peering in the direction of the counter. “Hey,” he calls, “hey, uncle! Hey, Charlie! Can we get some chamomile for this man?” “What?” Nathan blinks. “Chamomile, my man, it’ll help you breathe. Have you eaten today?” Nathan shakes his head. “And a hot toastie!” “Coming right up,” returns Uncle Charlie.

“Thank you,” sniffles Nathan, bewildered. “Thank you for -- helping me.” “I keep telling you, don’t worry about it. What’s family for? You look like you’ve been through hell, my man.” Nathan nods. “Everything will seem easier with some food in you. You’re going to have some tea, and a bite to eat, and then you’re gonna tell me everything that’s happened, okay?” “Okay.” “Whatever spot you’re in, I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t help you out of. And anyone who’s been giving you trouble, they’re dead men. We’ve got your back.” “O-okay,” Nathan repeats weakly. “When you’re going through hell, my man, it pays to have a few demons on your side. You’re going to be just fine.”

Looking at Tony’s easy, open smile, Nathan is not at all confident that he’s doing the right thing. But the promises Tony is making -- somewhere to stay, help sorting all of this out, support -- he needs it too badly to turn it down.

[silvanable]

If request are open, could I ask for Theo, Vincent, Leo, Arthur and Dazai finding out that MC is a manga artist/writer? Thank you so much!!

this is such a cute idea. as an artist and writer myself i take enormous pleasure it writing this and their reactions.

i switched these up a little bit, where the mc is an artist for one, a writer for another, and maybe both for yet another! i hope you enjoy~

↪  GUIDELINES

ー ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

arthur just happens to find out on accident.

he knew that they had their hobbies and never really pried into that, it was something they did in their pastime just like how he was with his writing.

it just so happened to be that he was passing by the parlor when he noticed them inside with... was that his manuscript? and what were those other papers there?

nosiness curiosity got the best of him as he slips into the room to see what the mansion’s little visitor is up to.

he is, for once in his life, quite surprised to find the dear hunched over a pad of paper with a pencil in their hand.

he was quiet for a moment, examining what they were doing— which was clearly not writing— as their instrument moved over the page.

they shifted to look up at his manuscript, flipped a page, and was about to go back to their work when the noticed something from the corner of their eye.

arthur had leaned over the each of the seat, gaze fixed on the drawings in their lap and strewn about the table and seat.

the poor dear practically jumped out of their skin.

“arthur! don’t scare me like that!” they scolded him, face flush as they quickly tried to scramble and cover up their work.

“ah, was just curious to what you were doing, love,” he would flash them a grin and snatch up one of their papers before they could grab it.

“arthur, give it back!” they yelled in protest but he was far too quick for them.

his eyes scanned over the page, taking in the delicate lines of each character’s face and their expression, the texture and the design of the scenery and then his eyes fell to the dialogue...

“is this... holmes?” the genuine curiosity in his voice as he holds the paper out to them.

they try to snatch the page back but he jerks it up out of their reach before they can.

“yes okay! i’m sorry— i just saw your manuscript and i started reading it and... well, i just got inspired.”

now it has him curious and when arthur sets his mind to something, whether it be to unravel a mystery or get his questions answered, he’s going to get those answers.

after some encouragement, they finally admit to being a manga artist from their time— which as arthur understood was a unique artist who creates art to tell a story instead of words.

he is actually quite proud about the fact that his story is what motivated and drew out this creativity in them to the point they wanted to draw a ‘manga’ of his stories.

he absolutely keeps the page and a few other of their drawings he snatched up, every now and then when he’s working he finds himself drifting off to stare at it with a small smile.

ー DAZAI OSAMU

dazai was a writer and it seemed that the newest guest at the mansion was too.

of course, he never seemed to bring that up, as it seemed the writers of the mansion kept to themselves and wrote privately.

that was until the little darling had come stumbling up the stairs with an armful of paper.

of course they had not been looking where they were going, being rather preoccupied with trying to scribble down god-knows-what onto one of the pages, and walked straight into dazai as he was coming down.

he had acted fast, grabbing their wrist before they could tumble down the stairs, but the paper in their arms was less fortunate and thrown into the air.

“if you wanted to see me, ume-san, you could have just said so,” he greeted with his usual light and teasing voice.

the poor dear was flustered and apologizing profusely as they ducked around him, desperately trying to collect all of their paperwork.

well he was not just about to leave them like that, so dazai stooped to help them, only to find when he tried to reach for something they were quick to snatch it away.

the two made eye contact, both a look of surprise, as they stuttered out, “you don’t have to help— i dropped them.”

the reaction was rather cute but also he felt partially responsible, and because of this it became a game of who could snatch up what before the other.

“i— just— thanks, i’ll take those now!” the dear tried to take the papers from his hands once they were all collected, but the vampire danced around them breezily.

“why is toshiko-san so eager to get these back, hm?” he teased, flitting through what he had collected.

at first it was merely to poke fun, as he and arthur were known to do to people like poor isaac, but as he glanced over the notes and what looked like crude drawings he became intrigued.

those piercing golden eyes came up to a rather flustered person across from him, clearly embarrassed at having their work looked at.

“these are quite interesting,” his tone took on a strange seriousness as he handed them back, “what are they?”

even as flustered as the dear is, they take back their papers and shuffle them protectively in their arms, mutter a, “manga scripts and design ideas...”

of course the term was somewhat familiar to him, briefly recalling it being a rising trend before he died.

would become rather curious and invested in hearing about what the dear did in their time, finding it quite interesting that not only were they a writer but worked with artists to translate their stories visually.

ー LEONARDO DA VINCI

leonardo found it quite cute when he came across their little guest in their free time, seemingly distracted by whatever papers they had in their lap and strewn about them.

it was a reoccurring thing to find them like this as he wandered through the mansion on his way to his next nap.

this time though, that building curiosity of what they were doing finally seemed to reach the max and flood over as he approached them.

they did not seem to notice him from their seat on the floor until he was about a hairsbreadth from the side of their face.

“cara mia?” curse love languages not having gender neutral terms in their ear, causing the poor dear to jump out of their skin.

it was a wonder they didn’t headbutt in him the process and they all but threw themself across the floor to create some distance.

leonardo’s laughter was rather helpful to quell their panic, only for it to swift to a soft rage.

“leo— don’t ever do that again!” they scolded but by now the man had been distracted by the papers that had been haphazardly thrown in the dear’s attempt to flee danger.

golden eyes flickered over the pages as he gathered them up, some written over while other seemed to have sketches of what looked like persons.

they were quick to scramble back up to their feet and snatch the papers from leonardo, their face an uncharacteristically bright shade of red as they mumbled out, “they’re not ready yet...”

though their reaction and expression only seemed to encourage the vampire, after all, things that intrigued him he always pursued to understand investigate.

a soft hum escaped his lips as he looked down at them, only to snatch up another set up papers, ignoring the squeaks and protests to ‘don’t read it yet!’.

there was no getting them back at this point, as he used his height to his advantage against them, holding the pages high as he examined him.

and it suddenly made sense, it looked like a script and these little doodles were scenes from the scripts.

“quite creative, your story here,” leonardo handed back the pages to their flustered creator, “what is it?”

they hesitated as them shuffled the papers, hesitating for a moment before quietly, “a manga idea, something from my time, like a visual story.”

if he had not been intrigued before leonardo most certainly was now and he wanted to know exactly what sort of story they were making.

of course, he doesn’t push but he is more than willing to lend an ear for them to listen to the passionate and eager descriptions of their characters and, if needed, offer a suggest or two when they’re stuck.

ー THEODORUS VAN GOGH

having the lost pup new guest at the mansion following him while he worked was just a way to keep them out of trouble and help him out.

of course, he had never expected them to take such an interest in art as they had, marveling at every little detail, asking questions when they weren’t with a customer, and practically hanging onto every detail theo would spare.

he would never have guessed that everything they had picked up and learned from him on the job they were translating into their own work.

theo was never one particularly nosy and whatever they did in their spare time was their business as long as it didn’t mess with anything or anyone.

so imagine his irritation when they are late for breakfast and sebastian asks for him to go get them?

he walks in, ready to grab them by the arm and drag them out of their room so he might get the chance to enjoy his pancakes for a few moments of peace.

instead, he waltzes into their room finding them pouring over their desk with numerous pages scattered over the surface and stuck against the wall... and most any available space it seemed.

at first he was ready to ask them what sort of mess they were making but stopped as he began to draw closer and examine what they were doing.

it looked like they were... drawing? not that he would judge their strange style, as he was a promoter of the arts that were outside of the norm.

“oi, hondje,” he calls out to them, placing a hand on their head in a familiar way.

the squeak they make is almost laughable but he doesn’t have the chance before they recover and looking up at him quizzically.

“why are you awake so late?” it was a genuine question.

“late? it’s morning already, did you stay up all night?” theo is quick to shoot back, only to receive an even more confused expression.

that answered his question.

“what are you even working on that you would forget to sleep? i can’t have you dozing off at work you know,” he leans down over their desk and they suddenly get shy.

they are subtle, or at least try to be, as they shuffle papers and cross their arms over them, mumbling a soft ‘nothing’.

theo doesn’t take it though and instead turns his gaze up to the art displayed literally all over the room.

before they can even think to snatch drawings away he’s already asking questions, “did you draw these?” 

it takes a moment for them to respond, as they mull over a way to answer, but finally cave in to an explanation.

“yeah, i did,” they paused, expectantly staring but theo only waved his hand for them to continue.

“for a manga—something from my time, they, um, tell stories through pictures,” they explained, spreading out the papers on the desk again, “and i got an idea last night so...”

theo is thoroughly impressed, of course they have to explain further about the detailing and techniques— he’s going to ask after all.

there are times where theo will actually watch them draw, he likes to see artists in their element and this is something entirely new he wants to learn more of.

expect that he will have a sketch or two from them, would deny it, but he keeps it in the breast pocket of his coat.

ー VINCENT VAN GOGH

vincent found it quite enjoyable having another person at the mansion, especially with how they spent time with him.

of course he knew they were an artist too, it had come up one day when they were together, while he was painting and they seemed to be doing something in their notebook.

he had asked about their work and if they would let him see but they seemed to get flustered, so he let it rest, after all he wasn’t going to force them.

but still they came around to spend afternoons together, drawing or painting, in silence with the occasional conversation.

one day that they had stayed out rather late in the garden, vincent hadn’t noticed the time passing until it was too dark to continue.

as he packed up his things, he was talking, but got no response back from his friend, and when he turned around to check if they were gone, he found them asleep on the ground.

he felt rather back for not noticing earlier, seeing as the ground probably wasn’t all that comfort and that they hadn’t said how tired they were— he wouldn’t have asked them to spend time outside if they needed rest!

vincent was quiet as he approached their sleeping form, ready to gently rouse them as he outstretched his hand, but stopped as something caught his eye.

in the evening sun, the pages from their notebook were illuminated by the fading sun.

he didn’t mean to pry, truly, but he couldn’t help curiously picking up the book and examining the pages.

some were full of notes, others these beautiful drawings, and more still with a combination of both.

one drawing in particular had caught his eye, a series of scenes it seemed, of someone who looked a lot like him making his way to the gardens and painting...

“mhmm... vincent?” they peeked an eye open groggily, rubbing their face as they looked up at him sitting beside them.

“is it dark already? i’m sorry i didn’t mean to fall asleep—” they sat up, stretching, only to stop halfway through the motion when they saw their notebook in his hand.

they flushed red but vincent only smiled sweetly as he offered them the book back.

“i like your drawings,” he said softly, “they’re very beautiful.”

they were hesitant but took back their notebook, redder if it were possible, as they mumbled a ‘thank you’.

“who were the other people in your drawings?” vincent asked as he stood, holding out a hand towards them.

“uh, well,” they accepted and were pulled to their feet as they explained, “they’re fictional—not real—for a story i was doing...”

vincent cocked his head cutely to the side as he listened, “what kind of story?”

“a visual on, a manga from my time,” they explained as the both of them began to gather up their supplies.

on the way back to the mansion, vincent listened as they explained, he found it quite interesting that someone would paint out a story, but enjoyed the idea.

vincent finds the whole idea quite fascinating and often asks them about their stories afterwards.

they are still flustered to show him many of their drawings, but vincent is sweet about it each time, and has invited them to try painting their ideas on a canvas saying he would love to see how their style reflects.

definitely adores all their drawings, his favorite ones are when they do simple doodles of the members of the mansion, often claiming they’re not great, but he loves them.

absolutely reads their manga stories, whatever they’re willing to let vincent read and he is enthralled by the stories and characters.

[clareguilty]

Kintkober 2020 Prompt #2

These prompts are turning out a little longer than i anticipated... whoops

Reinhardt/f!reader Rating: Explicit | Aphrodisiacs, dubcon, size difference Word count: ~1300

Lieutenant Wilhelm was impressive. You had seen him on the battlefield, in strategy meetings, he was courageous, steadfast, and as strong as ten men.

Which was probably why it was just the two of you sent to retrieve a classified parcel from a designated location at an hour that could only mean trouble. You were armed, of course. And so was Reinhardt.

Armored, more like it. He didn’t carry a weapon, rather just impressively large gauntlets capable of blocking fire and also flattening an oncoming car. It was good enough for you.

The point of contact was waiting at the back of a large black vehicle. Definitely armored, definitely filled with people carrying guns. You took your place at Reinhardt’s side, a few meters distance between you and the very obvious set up. There was already half a militia’s worth of men standing in plain sight. Who was to say how many were lying in wait?

You tapped Reinhardt on the inside of the arm as inconspicuously as possible. This is a trap.

He coughed twice into his sleeve. I know.

You tallied up the amount of ammunition you had on you hidden beneath your coat and compared that to the estimated amount of people you were probably going to have to shoot.

“Lieutenant,” the point of contact greeted. They may have been an omnic, may have just been someone in a mask.

“Good evening,” Reinhardt greeted, always with the manners. “Do you have what we came for?”

“Of course,” the contact nodded. The back doors of the vehicle swung open to reveal a large silver trunk. Gloved hands opened the latches, and reached inside to retrieve a smaller container. “Once the… ah… payment has been sent, it’s all yours.”

Reinhardt retrieved a tablet from his pocket, it looked like a cell phone in his enormous hand. “Warden Holt? This is Lieutenant Wilhelm from the courthouse. You can go ahead with the transfer.”

A voice came through from the other end. “Transfer is a go. Copy.”

There was a long moment of silence. At last, the contact tilted their head, as if receiving a message. “Excellent. It’s all yours.”

The two approached each other, step by step. Reinhardt accepted the canister from the contact. The deal was done.

A quiet pop sounded from above you. Reinhardt flinched, reaching for his neck and coming away with something in his hand. A dart.

You had turned and fired before the shooter could take aim for another shot. The sound of your own weapon was a cataclysm for chaos and combat. You ducked into cover and began picking off the hired guns one by one. Reinhardt was wreaking havoc on the remainders, roaring and knocking men away with enough force to send them flying.

It was a quick fight. An easy one. You and Reinhardt had returned to the transport within minutes.

Except something was wrong with Reinhardt.

“Are you okay, Lieutenant?” you asked, placing a hand on his arm.

He didn’t answer, simply shrugged you off and made his way inside the ship. It was then that he promptly passed out.

He collapsed to the ground with such force, you immediately ran to his side.

“Captain Amari,” you spoke hurriedly into your comms. “We secured the parcel, but there’s something wrong with the Lieutenant. He’s currently unconscious in the transport. He was hit with some kind of dart earlier, there’s no way of knowing what was in it.”

Ana’s voice was cool and collected as always. “His vitals are certainly going haywire, but nothing life-threatening at the moment. Get the ship in the air and keep me updated on his condition.”

No problem. You set the return course and immediately settled at Reinhardt’s side. He was too large for you to really move him, but you lifted his head in your lap and carded your fingers through his hair.

“Reinhardt,” you whispered. “Please. You’ve got to get up.” You afforded yourself a moment of vulnerability. You had feelings for your superior officer. He had feelings for you. The two of you would never act on it.

But you couldn’t stay professional when he was nearly lifeless before you, skin burning up and breaths shallow and quick. You watched over him.

He woke with a startled gasp, eyes unfocused. You were already preparing to call Ana when a large, armored hand gripped your arm.

“Reinhardt?” you asked, meeting his eyes. They were dark, dangerous.

“Meine Liebe,” he whispered. “I need you.”

“What can I-” your question was interrupted as he pinned you to the floor for the transport ship, tearing at your clothes until they were shreds. He stopped to look at the gauntlets for a moment, before ripping them away as well.

Reinhardt buried his face between your legs without a moment’s hesitation. You cried out, all of your concerns melting away as he ate you out in ways you had only ever imagined. He was strong enough to lift you and hold you still, keeping you in place as you moaned and arched your back.

You came with a loud cry, fingers scrabbling against Reinhardt’s arms and heels kicking into his back. He hardly seemed to notice. He simply laid you gently back on the floor so he could tear his own clothes off. You couldn’t look away from his cock, huge and already dripping.

Once again, Reinhardt scooped you into his hold, arranging you so that your legs draped over his thighs. He kissed you deeply, and you tasted yourself on his tongue.

“I have held back for too long,” he breathed into your skin. “I’m going to make you mine.”

You knew you should protest -- at least wait until he had been cleared by medical, but you were lightheaded and warm from his kiss. “Yours,” you murmured and ground your hips down towards his.

His cock was huge, hard and leaking between your bodies. You needed nothing more than to feel him inside of you. Every rock of your hips only increasing the desperation in your belly. “Please…” you begged.

Reinhardt growled. “You’re going to take Daddy’s cock, aren’t you?” He pulled your hips to his.

“Yes,” you whined. Your own head was light, heart pounding beneath your skin. You vaguely wondered if you had also come in contact with whatever had been in that dart.

“Tell me you need it. Tell me how much you need Daddy’s cock.” His voice was so commanding, so much darker than you were accustomed to hearing.

“I need it. I need your cock, Daddy.” It filled you with shame to admit, and your whole body grew warm at the realization of what you, a high ranking officer, had just said.

But it was what Reinhardt wanted. He pressed his cock against you, pulling you down onto his length. The stretch was overwhelming, more than you could take. You collapsed against him as he continued to move. Whatever was coursing through his veins had taken hold of him, and he would not stop until he had filled you. It seemed like an eternity until your hips met his. You were stretched around his cock, hips shaking with the sensation of him twitching inside you.

“Fuck, Daddy,” the words slipped from your lips unbidden, you were just as lost as him. He bucked his hips up, somehow filling you even more than before.

He move you on his cock, lifting you with his practically inhuman strength and using your body for his own pleasure. You gasped and shuddered in his grip, another orgasm ripping through you without warning.

Reinhardt came with a roar, rolling so that you were beneath him and driving you into the floor of the ship with his hips. You could feel the mess between your thighs as he came inside of you. You had been claimed by him.

He did not let you move away even when he had finished, holding you close as both of your heart rates slowed and your breathing returned to normal.

You heard the ship initiate it’s landing sequence, and you wondered how in the world you were going to explain this to Captain Amari.

[twokinkybeans]

Touch Me, Please [Starker Fic] Pt.3

Summary: Tony Stark has never told anyone that he’s still a virgin. He doesn’t want to sleep with people who only want him because of his outward persona. So instead, he hires an escort. Things get a little more heated than either of them had expected. Tags/Warnings: Escort!Peter, Virgin!Tony, nff, nsfw, sexual tension, teasing, Peter is 22, Tony is 53, oral sex, 69. Taglist: @starkerswonderland @staticwhispersinthedark @starkerprince @parkers-stark​ @bluestarker (let me know if you want to be added!)

Notes: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN 2 MONTHS SINCE I POSTED FOR THIS I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT Y'ALL!!! I come bearing good news though! This was supposed to have three parts, but the plot started living its own life and now we're definitely having a fourth part as well ehehehe. Hope y'all enjoy! -Kim

Read the fic here on AO3

Or click here to find the previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

-

Peter knows he’s fucked. Absolutely, terribly, fucked.

And to be honest… Even that’s an understatement.

Peter clutches his coat tighter and fastens his pace. He’s snuck out of the enormous labyrinth that’s Tony’s home, and is now on his way to the bureau’s HQ. It’s still early in the morning, a little over 7 am, and Peter hopes to catch one of his managers before they start their meeting.

Peter made a grave mistake, and all he can do is spill it all out and pray that he can keep his job. He’s had unsafe sex with a customer. If there’s one thing that he should pay close attention to, it’s that. He never made a mistake like this before. However, with Tony, he completely threw his cool and composed sugar baby persona out the door; his mind lost to the wealthy man he only met last night. Tony may claim to be a virgin, which according to his eager yet sloppy techniques isn’t too hard to believe, but still. Peter shouldn’t have risked it.

He eyes the building in front of him and hesitates. He could just get a test done without his bosses knowing; play sick until he gets the results. But if they were to find out… He’d lose his job for sure. And contrary to popular belief, he’s not in the industry just for the money. He likes his career. 

In good faith, Peter steps forward and presses the doorbell.

-

Tony wakes up when a golden glow casts over his body. He smiles groggily. In his haze last night, he must’ve forgotten to close the curtains. He sighs and turns around, grabbing the sheets to tug them up a little higher. Slowly, the surroundings are getting to him. The distant sound of traffic rushing through the busy streets of NYC. The buzz of the elevator as it sweeps past his floor...

...and the complete lack of another human’s breath.

Tony swallows and his eyes flutter open. A harsh sting rips through his chest when he sees his bed is indeed empty.  “Peter?” He calls out, half-heartedly expecting an answer but not at all surprised when it stays dead silent.

-

It’s safe to say that the following days, Tony is in such a sour mood that his employees nearly cringe each time he walks across the room. He should’ve never hired an escort to have his first-ever sexual encounter with. The plan was destined to fail from the get-go, and it had. 

“Tony?”

Tony turns around to find Pepper standing in the doorway of his private office. Pepper has been his personal assistant for years now, and he is aware that he wouldn’t survive a single day without her skills in his company. She’s seen his worst more often than not - and she doesn’t deserve to be the one to take his anger - but Tony can’t help but glare. “What?” “Jeez, they were right. You’re a fucking asshole today.” Pepper says calmly and raises her eyebrows as she closes the door behind her. Tony can feel some of the tension fade from his posture and he casts his eyes down.

“What happened?” She proceeds to ask. Tony shrugs. How could he tell her? “I did something stupid.” “I figured as much.” The PA places a stack of files onto his desk and sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Personal troubles, or Stark Industries-related?” “Personal.” “Ah, good. That’s one less of a worry.”

Tony glares again, but this time it’s more playful. Pepper smirks. “Gotcha,” she hums, seemingly pleased with herself. “Now, tell me what happened.” “I can’t.” “I’m sure you can, it’s-” “It’s too embarrassing, Pep. Please, I gotta deal with this by myself.” Pepper raises her eyebrow at his words and leans onto the wooden surface.  “Then deal with it before you drag Stark Industries into whatever it is.” She shoves the stack of paper forward and smiles faintly. “After you deal with these, of course.”

“Of course.”

-

It’s late in the evening, and Tony swirls the whiskey around in his glass. He finished the work right before dinnertime and decided to take the rest of the night off.

Deal with it.

Tony snorts. How could he? Peter left. It’s plain and simple that the kid didn’t want to stay. His pretty, sweet words had been nothing but lies and deception, and Tony feels like a goddamn fool for falling for the act. Peter is an escort. Pleasing people, telling them what they want to hear, it’s his job. Tony can’t blame him. He only blames himself.

Yet, it doesn’t keep him from grabbing his phone and navigating towards the escort website. He sniffs once, finding his way to the catalog. It should be easy to find Peter. Right? Tony scrolls down the list and frowns when he hits the bottom of the page. Mmh. He scrolls back up and sits a little more upright when he can’t seem to find Peter’s picture. He taps the search bar and types in his name.

No results found.

In a wave of panic, Tony types out the bureau’s number to contact them and waits anxiously. He has no intention of bothering Peter ever again, but now that it seems he vanished, it makes him feel strangely panicked. As if every link he had to the boy is simply gone. As if nothing ever happened.

Except something did happen.

“Good evening, this is Eva. How may I help you?” “Uhmm- Hi. It’s Mr. Stark. I’m, eh, I’m looking to book Peter again? He was here last night?” “Oh, I’m terribly sorry to inform you, sir, but I’m afraid Peter is temporarily unavailable. I could put you on the waiting list for when he returns?” “Please.”

And like a stupid idiot, he disconnects straight after. He sniffs and lowers his phone. He wonders if he just made another mistake.

-

Peter sucks at his teeth, his foot restlessly tapping onto the floor. He looks at his scheduled bookings and stares at the one empty spot. There’s only one client left to call, but Peter doesn’t know if he should. After a long tirade, and thankfully, a negative STD test, he’s back in the game and good to go. But, if he couldn’t keep himself together last time… He’s not sure if it’d be professional to go back to Tony.

Sweet, innocent, handsome Tony.

“Hey,” Harley pokes his head past Peter’s shoulder and grins. “I see you’re free tonight. My pal Dave is throwing a party at the Frizzles. Wanna come?” Peter rolls his eyes at his coworker and grins. “And get Dave to hopelessly flirt with me again? No, thank you.” “Oh, come on!” Harley throws his hands into the air in desperation. “Dave is your type!” “He’s not,” Peter grumbles, nearly shuddering at the idea. “Good fella, but no, not for me. Y’know I’m into rich old classy dudes. Heck, so are you!” “Hey, no need to attack me.” Harley lowers his bum on the edge of Peter’s desk and cocks his head. “You barely ever have a night off. Don’t you wanna have some fun? I’ll try and keep Dave off your back.” “Well…” Peter sighs and stares back at the empty spot in his schedule.

“I actually have a client.” “What do you mean?” “It’s the last free spot, and I have one more client to secure a booking with me. I just…” Harley frowns, his face displaying a sudden seriousness. “Peter, did this client hurt you?” “What? No!” “Then why are you looking all gloomy at the mere thought of that one client? Is he- Did he force you to not use protection? Peter, we can have him blacklisted, and-” “It’s not at all like that, please Harls, I promise.” “Then tell me why the fuck you’re so strange about it. You’re never strange around clients. Fuck ‘em, get them hooked for more and tadaa, that’s a healthy clientele, it’s how you taught me.”

Peter groans out loud in frustration and shoves his chair back a little, trying to distance himself from the scribbled down phone number at his desk. “I like him!” “What?” “I… I like him. Dammit. He’s really fucking different than the rest of them. I’ve only slept with him once, but he’s got me hooked, not the other way around.” “Then why’d he call us again? Eva told me he sounded pretty nervous.”

Peter’s face loses all color when Harley’s words crash down on him, crumbling the reality he’d build around himself. “No, no Harley, don’t enable me on this one. It’s bad luck. I shouldn’t do it.” Peter scrunches his nose. “Tell Dave I’ll be at the party.”

Harley simply grins, his eyes glimmering mischievously as if there’s something only he knows and Peter doesn’t. “Sure thing.”

-

It’s been two weeks since the damned party. Peter doesn’t feel any better about himself. As expected, Dave had followed him around all evening. Harley, traitor he is, was nowhere to be found. In the end, Peter couldn’t take it anymore, and he straight up told Dave he wasn’t interested. Thank god the lad took it pretty well, but it doesn’t make Peter feel any less shitty about it.

Peter really should just focus on his job and put his mind away from both Dave and Tony. It’s for the best. He sighs and stares at the next appointment on his list. The name is hidden, a feature they have for clients who are high in on their privacy. Peter sighs and grabs his car keys to go to the appointment. 

-

Tony’s tapping his foot anxiously while he tries not to stare at the elevator. It’s needless to say he’s not doing a very good job at doing so. Peter’s going to be here again. Oh, God. Tony can’t shake the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the booking when Peter’s coworker called him.

[rentsturner]

Dare | Obi-Wan Kenobi

Request: okay! could i request where you and obi wan kiss for the first time as padawans? // @laorme34

(a/n: I was up till like 2am writing this, so pls excuse any mistakes. It probably doesnt make much sense, oh well, It’s basically just fluff, I hope you like it. not my gif.) 

word count: 1.9k

Coruscant was beautiful at night, there was no denying it. The glowing lights shining from stories upon stories of skyscrapers, the constant buzz of traffic and people. Some may find it unsettling, but you thought the living city was perfect.

You and a few of your fellow padawans had spent the evening relaxing in the Temple gardens, a peaceful oasis amidst the bustling Coruscanti streets below. 

It was Carnival Week, which meant nights filled with fireworks and dancing, colourful acts parading every avenue and boulevard until the sun began to rise over the living, breathing metropolis. But more importantly, for you it meant a week off normal Jedi duties and more time to spend with your friends.

It was a small gathering, but a lively one. The laughter and gossip had flowed easily, a well needed change of pace from your usual hectic lives. But you couldn't help but keep glancing across the circle to look at Obi-Wan Kenobi, the seemingly perfect padawan, excelling in every task his master set for him. He was sprawled lazily across the grass, staying quiet in the conversation, except to occasionally contribute a witty quip. A cheeky grin always followed, basking in the laughter he induced, before settling comfortably into silence once again.

You had known Obi for many years, training with him frequently when your masters worked together. You weren’t entirely sure what it was that drew you to him - that blinding smile that could light up your day in an instant, his endless generosity, kindness that knew no bounds, or his infectious enthusiasm for almost anything. Maybe it was the way he would always check on you after a particularly hard mission, or  maybe the sound of his carefree laughter when you told him a joke. Or maybe it was just that sometimes, when he looked at you, it would feel like the whole world had disappeared and the only thing that truly mattered was that distinct shade of deep blue that coloured his eyes and the way his long auburn lashes framed them so beautifully.

It was safe to say that you were harboring just a little crush for Obi-Wan.

After a few more hours of chatter, the cool night air began to creep in. It wasn't unbearably cold, not to you anyway, as the bulk of your thick cloak stifled the breeze and trapped any welcome warmth. It seemed that the drop in temperature was not to your friends’ tastes, as one by one they began to trickle away, each making their polite excuses before retiring to their warm beds. But you weren't ready to sleep yet.

Now there was only one person left with you in the garden. Obi-wan sat opposite you, seemingly unaffected by the gentle chill that had driven away your peers.His knees were pulled up to his chest, his chin resting there and his arms wrapped tightly around his shins, making himself as small as possible. Maybe it was to conserve heat. He seemed comfortable just to watch you, a faint smile across his face as he took you in. 

You crossed your legs underneath you, one hand fiddling with the petals on the nearest flower, the other tugging on your braid self consciously. It’s not that you were uncomfortable in Obi-Wan’s presence, no. It was more that you were worried. Worried that too much time spent with Obi’s charms and silver tongue would result in your secret slipping out. He was famed for his clever negotiations after all, and it would be so incredibly mortifying for him to discover your little crush.

Best to leave now

But before you could even make your feeble excuse - I have to water my succulent, Obi’s voice cut through the silence.  

“You want to play truth or dare?” 

Looking up at his grinning face, you realised he was deadly serious. You hadn't played truth or dare in years, but you knew that it could easily result in chaos. You could embarrass yourself in front of Obi-Wan or, even worse, your secret could come out. But...you didn't really want to go to bed yet. Whatever happened, you would probably both forget about it in the morning. Maybe it would even be fun.

“Yeah, sure.”

Obi clapped his hands together excitedly and shuffled closer. 

“Okay, you first then. Truth or dare?”

Your first dilemma. Choose truth and possibly reveal some of your deepest secrets? You could always lie, but you had a feeling that Obi would know. He seemed to have an advanced perception of everything.Well, he was on his way to becoming the perfect Jedi after all. No, truth was too much risk.

“Dare.” you tried to sound confident.

Obi chuckled, looking around as if searching for ideas. His gaze stopped suddenly when it reached the largest tree in the garden, an enormous oak stretching up at least two stories. A mischievous glint appeared in his bright eyes. 

“I dare you to climb that tree.”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. Even with trained agility and balance, climbing the oak would be a tough job. Obi noticed your reluctance.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll catch you if you fall.” A whisper in the night, followed by a comforting kiss to your cheek.

Five minutes later, you had dropped back to the ground, the leaf in your hand from the top of the tree a token of your success. 

“Just for you.” You giggled, placing the leaf in Obi’s palm. He wrapped his fingers around it, looking down at it before his gaze once again returned to you. There was fondness in his eyes, along with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. It looked almost like desire...but no, you must have been mistaken. Just fondness. 

“Your turn, Obi. Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” No hesitation there. He sprawled back down on the grass, waiting patiently for your question. 

Obi-Wan didn’t mind what you asked him, in all honesty. He’d never lie to you. He’d come to terms with the fact that he loved you almost a year ago and was prepared to do anything for you if you asked him to. The love that he felt for you was like a burning ember in his chest, always there, always ready to break free and burn brightly if the moment called. But for the most part, he had to keep it hidden. The Jedi Order wasn't exactly welcoming when it came to forbidden attachments.

Sometimes he thought you were blind, oblivious to his loving gestures. Coming to find you and tuck you into bed after a long mission, travelling to the library late at night to search a book that you desperately needed, using his wit to get you out of trouble with your master whenever you got caught - surely these meant more than being just friends? But Obi had been patient, biding his time. He knew tonight was the night.

Mind racing, you wracked your brain for a good truth. Something lighthearted, but not stupid, interesting, but not too deep. You settled on a relatively tame question.

“Who’s your least favourite Jedi on the council?”

Obi hummed, rubbing his chin and jaw in thought.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to say Master Windu. He accidentally bumped into me in a corridor a few days ago. I split my coffee and I haven't forgiven him yet.”

You burst into laughter at the pettiness of Obi’s answer. His deep chuckle joined your giggling in a pleasant harmony.

“Listen, love, my morning coffee is very important to me, i cannot function without it!”

This only elicited more laughter from you, and the next few minutes were spent lying on the floor, trying to catch your breath. You turned your head to see Obi lying in a similar position, watching you. He was always watching you it seemed, just as you constantly stole glances at him. Obi-Wan was just more confident, upfront. He always had been.

“Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.” The word was barely a whisper, but Obi Wan heard it loud and clear, all his attention on you. He paused for a moment before speaking.

“Kiss me”

Those cerulean eyes never left yours. He was being deadly serious, once again. 

You jerked back, shocked, his two words ringing in your ears. Did he know your secret? Had he read your mind somehow? Maybe he had noticed your gaze catching on his lips, engrossed by the way his tongue would dart out and wet them, how soft they looked in the moonlight and -

No, he couldn't know.

Obi-Wan noticed the panic gripping your features and reached out to your hand slowly, gently taking your palm in his. Maybe he could still convince you. He wanted this so badly and he could just feel that you wanted it too.

“I’m not joking, darling. Please kiss me.”

“I-” 

Words escaped you, only feelings and images tumbling through your mind as you took in the situation. Obi-Wan. Your crush Obi-Wan. Wanted to kiss you. You.

The feeling of his thumb rubbing across your knuckles calmed you slightly and you took a deep breath in. This was it.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said that -” Obi began to pull away, his cheeks becoming flushed with regret and uncertainty, but you squeezed his hand and shuffled closer, a surge of courage running through your veins.

“No, Obi, I want to kiss you. So badly.”

And you leaned forwards, placing your lips on his gently, resting your free hand on his shoulder. A spark of pleasure ran between you. Obi-Wan gasped at the sudden contact, shuddering slightly before moving to kiss you back. He hummed softly and carded his hand through the hair at the back of your neck, pulling you even closer in.

It was almost like a collision, the pining and tension coming to a head after months, like a water breaking through a dam to flow freely. It was everything.

His heady aroma of sandalwood and cinnamon was intoxicating and you could feel the warmth of his body through the thick layers of wool and cotton. You had a sudden desire to just peel his robes off there and then, but you pushed it back down. That could wait.

Your noses bumped together and you could feel Obi smiling against your mouth.

Maker, his lips were just as soft as they looked.

You pulled away slowly, but kept your forehead pressed against Obi’s, your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, rubbing the skin where his hairline started. His large palms skimmed up and down your sides, pressing into your robes as if he was trying to sink through them and reach your warm skin.

“Finally.” 

Another whisper in the night, except this time it came from Obi. And this time, when your eyes met, it did truly feel like you were drowning in his cerulean orbs, and the world had in fact disappeared. All you could see, smell, feel, was Obi-Wan Kenobi, and that was just how it was meant to be.

Obi Tags: @ohhellokenobi @doublesunsets @snips-n-skyguy0501 @karasong @callmearwen @milleniumvalcon @rosionis @afogocado @stardancerluv @goldenkenobi @fenharel-enaste @corellians-only @weirdfangirl2416 @a-seeker-of-imagination @saintlaurentkenobi @justanotherpadawan (Taglist link in bio)

[ambivalentmarvel]

so the story behind this is that @sreppub​ arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat. 

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces. 

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?” 

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?” 

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front. 

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it. 

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going. 

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.��

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement. 

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision. 

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

[scope-dogg]

Brain Powerd: Final Thoughts (No, that’s not a typo)

I went into this with only vague ideas of what to expect. This is one of Tomino’s less-known and discussed anime series despite it having a really unique concept and a dream team production staff - Mamoru Nagano teams back up to do mechanical design, and Yoko Kanno contributes another standout soundtrack having just done the same for Escaflowne and Macross Plus. In fact, the whole thing has a very similar feeling vibe to Turn A Gundam, which is something else Tomino and Yoko Kanno would team up on after this - additionally, the two shows share much of the same voice cast and the art and animation style is also noticeably similar. Yet this doesn’t enjoy the same fame and acclaim of Turn A - there isn’t that much discussion about this show out there and the review scores I’ve seen are middling.

I can see why that is - this is definitely a show with flaws that came out at the wrong time - the show has a lot of curious parallels and similarities with Evangelion, which came out shortly beforehand, and despite those similarities allegedly being an unfortunate coincidence and not intentional, Brain Powerd gets written off as a knock-off of Eva by many. However, despite the fact that I think Eva is a better show than Brain Powerd in most ways, Brain Powerd is definitely not a knock-off - the tone of the two shows is entirely different, and Brain Powerd has plenty of its own unique aspects that are worthy of more attention. It’s probably the most heavily Tomino-flavoured Tomino series that I’ve seen - whether it’s the things it does right or the things it does wrong, it all carries the distinct hallmarks of that same legendary but polarising director.

The plot setup is that in the future, much of the planet is wracked by natural disasters, and the future looks bleak for humanity. Amidst this, an enormous and ancient alien spacecraft called Orphan awakens from its slumber in the abyss of the oceans. There are those called Reclaimers who think that Orphan is the key to humanity’s survival, and seek to fully awaken it and use it to allow mankind to escape the stricken Earth and roam the galaxy, whereas others believe it must be stopped at any cost. Part of Orphan’s activity is to disperse strange discs spawned by Orphan called Plates, which can revive into giant humanoid biomechanical lifeforms called Antibodies that are sentient but achieve their full potential via symbiosis with a human pilot. There are two kinds of Antibodies - the Grand Chers, which the Reclaimers exploit to their own ends, and Brain Powereds, which they seek to destroy wherever they can be found. Yuu Isami is the son of the scientists who lead the Reclaimers, and a Grand Cher pilot, who is one day sent on a mission to retrieve Plates and has a chance encounter with an orphan girl called Hime, who forms a bond with a Brain Powered that has just revived from a Plate. Forced to retreat, Yuu reassesses the cause he is serving, and upon learning the horrible truth - that when Orphan leaves Earth, it will result in the death of all life on the planet - he frees a captive Brain Powered and makes his escape, and vows to put a stop to the Reclaimers’ plans. This eventually brings him into contact with the Novis Noa, an arc ship commissioned by the UN with the aim of protecting humanity from Orphan’s devastation, where Hime and her Brain Powerd now reside.

The similarities with Eva are easy to see - a ruined world thanks to the presence of extraterrestrials, mecha that are alive, and a son at odds with amoral scientist parents, but at no point does it ever feel like it’s ripping anything off - it’s presented in its own way, it’s a different kind of story and has its own distinct identity despite the obvious parallels. I think it’s one of the shows’ greatest strengths, but it’s also potentially a major weakness, because it can be incredibly convoluted and unfocused at times. In fact, I suspect that a lot of the lukewarm reviews this show has are because people bounce off the early part of it, not without good reason - everything I described in the paragraph above this one happens in the space of about two episodes with a huge one-year timeskip in between, and it dumps a lot of concepts, characters and plot points on you way quicker than it probably should. There’s a lot of buzzwords and concepts to latch on to - B-Plates, Antibodies, Grand Chers, Brain Powereds, the Vital Globe, Chakra, and so on and so forth. Honestly there’s some I’m not entirely sure about - if I ever got a satisfactory answer to what a B-Plate is exactly I don’t remember. The plot is also kind of meandering for a good few episodes after its opening and can’t seem to decide where to go - to me it kind of seemed like it had its runtime or episode count altered at the last minute and rearrangements had to be made, which weren’t made well.

However, things do eventually seem to click into place at around episode 10, and the story starts to array itself in a more focused and engaging manner. It’s still not perfect - there are still occasionally things that it can’t make up its mind on and some other aspects that get settled too abruptly, but it’s still enough to justify you to continue watching. Even though it dumps a lot on you, it also holds enough back to keep you watching - the true nature of the Antibodies and of Orphan being the main factor in that - you get left with questions right up until the very end of the final episode.

There’s also quite a lot going on with the show’s characters. The show’s main running them on that front is the troubled familial relationships that most if not all of the main cast have, to the point where it can get genuinely Freudian at times. The ways the characters talk and act tends to be very odd in that uniquely Tomino way, which is probably another factor in people bouncing off the show, but if you’ve seen pretty much any other Tomino show and enjoyed it you’ve probably already either inoculated yourself against it or even acquired the taste for it. The tone that’s set gets quite serious, as the fate of the world is at stake, and that gets amplified by all the character drama, but it also has just the right amount of humour and lighthearted moments to relieve the pressure but not enough to descend into farce.

I’d say the strongest unique selling point the show has are the antibodies themselves, both Brain Powereds and Grand Chers. Both are very distinctly designed by Mamoru Nagano - the thin waists, large heads and feet and pointy protrusions give them away on that front - they bear something of a resemblance to the Gothicmades from Nagano’s Five Star Stories manga. Otherwise there’s not a whole lot out there that’s quite like them - I think Evangelion comparisons fall down here especially hard, as while the Eva units were more purely biotic, only wearing metal armour as a facade, the Brains and Grand Chers are purely biomechanical, their bodies made up in a way that blurs the line between living tissue and mechanical construction. The purpose for making them living things is also entirely different - the Eva units being living things made them more offputting and frightening, whereas in Brain Powerd it’s done to make them more human and relatable - at times they’re even cute. Sentient mecha isn’t a first, obviously Braves and Transformers built their franchises upon that concept, but Brain Powerd is different - they’re capable of taking some limited action on their own, but are at their best when working with a human pilot. They have a limited grasp of language, being able to sometimes flash words on the display screens in their cockpits and seeming to understand most human speech, but otherwise they’re limited to communicated by their mannerisms and making noise - the best way to think about them is almost like they’re large, very intelligent and human-shaped horses. It’s as strange as it sounds, and they remain mysterious and alien throughout, but never in a way that’s threatening or frightening. Well, at least that’s true for the Brains, the Grand Chers are definitely a little scarier in both appearance and behaviour to go with their role as the antagonist mecha, but even they get to show a bit of a softer side as the series progresses. Overall, this is definitely the most interesting thing that the show does and probably it’s biggest selling point.

All of this wrapped up in a presentation that I’d say is pretty good on balance. The animation is just okay by the standards of the time, there’s a fair amount of reused animation and some choppy bits, but it never gets outright bad, though it’s never amazing either. That’s made up for by a pretty solid visual direction and by Yoko Kanno, who knocks the soundtrack out of the park once again - it gives the series a hell of a lot of soul. I don’t think the soundtrack is quite as good as Turn A Gundam or Escaflowne, but it’s still in the same ballpark for sure.

On the whole, this series made a really strong impression on me despite being far from perfect, and I think it deserves more attention. I wouldn’t recommend it as anyone’s first mecha anime, or even anyone’s first Tomino anime - it’s probably better to cut your teeth on something like Turn A or Dunbine first to acclimate yourself to his style of storytelling, but if you like what you see in his other works, definitely come and check this one out. I don’t think there’s a guarantee that you’ll like it, but you may just love it.

[fallowdoe]

All roads lead to hell

MC gets kidnapped and has to make their way through Hell to reunite with everyone.

GN!reader x everyone (can be treated as platonic/romantic)

Trigger warnings for this chapter: touchy religious themes, death

I apologise for the quality of writing however this is a translated version of my fic.

If anyone is interested in that I was listening to Dr. Fletcher and the World, the whole Split soundtrack is my big inspiration for this story. I’d advise onto playing it in the background while reading.

Tags: @kashasenpai​ @lamemexicant​ @lana0937

⇐  Chapter 3 - The Door  ⇒

”Limbo?” They stuttered.

The man in front of them had a soothing look on his face. Something about being in his presence felt incredibly calming. A warm, gentle light was radiating from behind him.

”Limbo is the first circle of Hell. We’re in the castle which houses the seven gates.” His silvery voice echoed through the building.

”Circle… You mean Dante?” Something about the stranger felt almost familiar. 

MC couldn’t exactly tell why but their gut was telling them that he was trustworthy. It was almost like he radiated all of that calmness.

”Something like this.” He smiled.

”But I don’t understand. Why am I here? What happened?” They rambled. ”And… and who are you?”

Only now they noticed that the way he was dressed resembled how Luke and Simeon did. The stranger had light-brown braided hair and was quite tall. His silhouette seemed to be entailed with light. White and golden robes were sprawled around his feet.

”My name is Micheal. I hope I did not startle you.” He gave them a kind smile.

”I don’t think I could be anymore scared.”

”I am terribly sorry that we meet in these circumstances.” He spoke softly while gazing at them. ”And even more – I am sorry that you are here.” He gestured around the hall.

They took a quick glance across the room but it was empty. On the other hand, the conversations didn’t stop filling their ears. All the words flowing through the room were a little distracting but now the knowledge of their origin lifted their spirit up a bit. Every single information about this place seemed to ease their mind and slowly all the puzzles were coming together.

”I… I keep hearing voices. Who are they?” The fright filling their voice made the man scrunch his eyebrows. This shouldn’t be happening and he couldn’t fix it which filled him up with frustration.

”You can hear souls who reside here. They for a change only can see you. I imagine it must be confusing for you, however, I need you to focus now. This is the castle of seven gates, each one of them represents one of the seven heavenly virtues.” He explained. ”I have no idea who or why brought you here but I will do everything I can to help you get out.”

”How do I return to Devildom? To them?” They spoke quietly. Their throat was sore from all the previous sobbing.

MC was to occupied to think about it previously but now they realized that everyone must’ve already noticed that they’re gone. Mammon and Beel probably searched for them after they didn’t come back. They weren’t sure how much time had passed but it must’ve been at least a few hours. Were they looking for them? Would they save them? Mammon was probably blaming himself…

”You will have to go through all nine circles of Hell to reach Devildom.” He said after a second.

”Me? Alone? But that’s impossible! Isn’t there another way? Maybe Lord Diavolo can help me? Or Lucifer? Or anyone?” They pleaded with a shaky voice.

”If it was an option I would’ve notified them immediately. Despite our… personal conflicts, your safety remains an important matter to me as an angel.”

Having a random human sent to limbo was… unusual and definitely not in his favour. Wherever they would go after their death, their presence here was concerning. No human had a key to the first circle, therefore the perpetrator must’ve been a powerful demon. But why send a living human here? Unless it wasn’t a random pick…

”But… How am I even supposed to do that?!” MC’s question brought him back from his thoughts.

”Follow me. I’ll show you.” He stepped further into the chamber with MC following, the orbs peacefully floated behind them. ”You see if there existed a possibility of having anyone help you I promise you’d be back to Devildom already. But there isn’t. I can only go as far as the first circle since this is the heavenly castle. But next levels… Nobody but souls are capable of going there. I can’t take you to purgatory or any other realm, so you are trapped in Hell. The only way seems to be going down, through all nine circles. Then you’d be able to reach Devildom.” Fear filled them again as he spoke. ”I don’t want to be dishonest with you MC…” Micheal hesitated. ”Crossing the nine circles is no easy task. It’s almost impossible.” He watched their face darken. ”I will provide some aid, but I can’t do much.” He trailed off. In all of his angelic glory and power, now, in front of a terrified human, he had to admit that he couldn’t help them. It wasn’t fair for them to be here.

”What am I supposed to do?” They took a deep breath trying to steady themselves.

In front of them rose a giant glass door.

”Nothing. Like it has never happened.” Solomon concluded. He and Satan just arrived at Diavolo’s castle after checking RAD multiple times. They cast countless spells to help them find at least a single trace, but all for nothing.

”That’s impossible. Surely, no one is capable of magic this powerful that it leaves no trace.” Lucifer was quick to argue. He sighed and scrunched his face, a headache was troubling him for a few hours now.

”If you want to you can go see yourself. I’d rather not waste any more time on what we already know. RAD was empty. There are no traces or trails of anything. We better start searching for a solution rather than the cause.” Satan’s temper was getting better of him. He couldn’t believe how easily Lucifer was taking the whole situation. His worry seemed to only go as far as the exchange programme did, when everyone else, including Diavolo, was genuinely concerned for heir friends wellbeing.

”How are you expecting to find a one if we have no idea what is going on?” Lucifer was beginning to gro irritated as well as if Satan’s attitude towards him was any help.

”Have you found that spellbook?” Solomon interrupted them.

”Not yet, we already checked most of the library.”

”I could cast a searching spell.” He offered. ”That could speed up the search.”

”In here? Absolutely not.”

”Then you do it, Lucifer. Stop wasting time.” Satan hissed.

”What is your problem?”

”The problem is that you don’t give a shit about this whole situation! You don’t care about anything besides your work! You don’t care about MC or anyone else!”

”And what exactly is giving you such an impression?!”

”You have done absolutely nothing to help! Even Mammon’s worrying is more helpful than your prideful ass telling everyone to calm down! Now excuse me, I’m going to actually do something which will hopefully bring them back! It appears so that no one else will!” With that Satan stormed out of the room and left the castle.

”Shall we help with the search?” Solomon didn’t comment on their argument.

”Come.” Lucifer turned around and lead the way.

The library was settled underneath the castle. An enormous, round chamber was filled with many levels of bookshelves serving as its walls. Ladders and stairs were connecting the floors. Thousands of colourful volumes were lit up by candlelight generated by a spell. A crystal chandelier shone high up from the ceiling. Underneath there was a big, round table filled with tons of volumes and papers.

Solomon whistled at the sight. ”Impressive.”

”Indeed.” Diavolo agreed. He was standing next to the table and browsing through books laid on it. Every each one of them seemed to be a higher grimoire. Some must’ve been older than the demon himself. ”Spellbooks, grimoires, magic volumes from all across the three realms.”

”Alexandria?”

”A few. Why do you think we’re underground?” He answered not lifting his eyes from the book he was currently holding.

”Have you found anything?” Lucifer sighed.

”We have our suspicions.” Barbatos approached them carrying more books. Some floated behind him. ”Were any traces found at RAD?”

”No. It’s completely empty. If not for Mammon and Beel witnessing the charge we wouldn’t even know anything happened.” The sorcerer spoke while studying the items on the table. He noticed a few familiar covers. Single sheets of paper with magic circles on them took most of his attention.

Lucifer listened to them but the growing pain was too much of a distraction. He took a glance at Diavolo who put down the book he was holding. His gaze fell empty on the table as the Demon Lord must’ve been lost in his thoughts. He wondered who was this even possible that of all people, he, the future ruler of this realm didn’t know what went down at his own academy. Hell, it wasn’t that MC wasn’t already endangered just by being in the Devildom, but someone actually daring to do something like this and not being afraid of facing wraith of all of them… That, someone, was confident enough to do this…

”Lucifer?” The sound of Solomon’s voice brought him back. Everyone was looking at him, he must’ve got lost in his thoughts.

”Yes?”

”We were just discussing the possibility of reaching MC through the pacts they have with you and your brothers.”

”That would require a lot of preparations.” Barbatos mentioned. ”MC isn’t familiar enough with magic, they might not pick up the contact at all.”

”Either way I don’t think we have much choice here. Unless we find out more about the spellcaster or MC’s location we can’t do anything more. All we know is that they never left our realm and that they are alive.” Diavolo exclaimed. It wasn’t as obvious but his hands were tied there. He genuinely had no clue what could have happened to his exchange student. It was almost as if he was reminding himself that they have at least some information about them and their wellbeing.

”I’ll begin the preparations immediately.” Solomon confirmed.

”We have most of the ingredients and items needed for it here.” Barbatos mentioned. ”Should we go and get them?”

”Yes, once we’re ready we’ll fetch everyone and try our shot on it.” Diavolo decided.

Mammon was laying on his bed and gazing at the ceiling for an hour now. His empty eyes were trying to memorise every single curve, colour or shadow on it. He couldn’t stop thinking about them anyway, about how he failed everyone and how it was his fault. He was the one to protect them, and he was the one to lose them. What was he even thinking? It was so obvious that they weren’t safe by themselves! That’s the reason why he was meant to be there! To prevent such things from happening! His fists balled and his breathing was getting quicker as all these thoughts were spilling from him, the sadness and sorrow were marking the white sheets.

After Lucifer, Solomon and Satan left he couldn’t figure out what to do. The guilt overflowing him with every second was making him choke. He wanted to help. He wanted to help but he had no idea what to do. He wanted to help so badly. So he took their textbook and said he’ll put it in their room. He wanted to do something.

He didn’t even notice that he went to his room instead. So now the textbook was somewhere on his bed. He just tossed it onto it, angry that he couldn’t focus enough to do something so small.

The bed creaked softly when he moved to get it. He turned around and there they were. Laying next to him and scrolling through their D.D.D. Smiling at something they saw. He stopped and just looked at them with his eyes wide open. His hand slowly reached towards them.

”Mammon, check this out.” Their voice sounded so soothing. They handed him the device.

But when he looked down it was the textbook that they were holding. When he looked up they were gone. A plain sheet of paper slipped from between the pages and feel onto the sheets.

”This is the gate to the next circle. Lust – the second one out of nine.”

”What is it like?” They breathed out.

”Souls of those who reside there are… not peaceful at all. They’re serving a sentence I’m not sure what will you have to do to cross it but I know it’s possible.” His words echoed. ”I have no knowledge of what they actually look like, you’ll have to be prepared for the worst. Staying alert is crucial here, don’t let anything distract you.” His expression was pained.

”I want you to be honest with me. How hard is it actually? What chances do I have?” They were too numb to cry more.

”I don’t have enough knowledge to tell you this MC. It’s behind this door where the real hell is. I can only wish you luck.”

”Okay.” They whispered and tried to steady their breathing. ”I’ll go in.”

Mammon put down the textbook and instead lifted up the paper.

”It’ll be hard, no doubt. But it’s not impossible.” He reminded them as the door opened. Behind them was pitch black void. ”I’m sorry MC. I’m sorry that it happened to you.”

His words faded behind them as they stepped into the abyss.

”Lucifer! Where’s Lucifer!” Mammon screamed barging into the living room.

”Why are you screaming? He’s still at Lord Diavolo’s castle.” Asmo glared at him.

Him, Beel and Belphie were doing their own research while waiting for others to return. Leviathan left earlier mumbling something about marine. Sprawled across the floor were random books that they found in Satan’s room and the library.

”Solomon was wrong!” He almost cried out. ”That paper ain’t empty! Look at it!”

He carefully passed the sheet to his brother. It was now covered in different glowing patterns.

”Fuck…” Belphegor mumbled. ”Those are pretty complicated spells and summoning phrases.”

”We should go to meet others immediately.” Beel spoke.

Asmo scrunched his eyebrows. Something was oddly familiar about the patterns, but he couldn’t decipher them. ”Let’s go then.” He said and marched out of the room.

[sif-the-tsunami]

Ropes and Roses Part 5

Summary: Elizabeth Rosehill is a talented dance instructor and a force of nature that beguiles her famous student. Events in her life, however, have led her to search for more creative ways for her to keep herself afloat. What will she do to keep her dreams secure and what will it mean for her blossoming relationship. This is a very adult story about two people who are moderately terrible at adulting.

Warning: SMUT! unprotected sex (use condom sense, kids) oral (female receiving) slight angst, Dominant woman, willingly receptive to that domination but not quite a sub yet man

Pairing: Henry and OFC (am I doing this right?)

Word count: 1800ish

A/N: If you read it and like it, it would mean a lot to me if you could say something nice!

The air was getting cool and damp as they waited for their driver to pick them up. As a perk of being a performer, Elizabeth was picked up and dropped off each time she came in. The bouncer made a comment reminding her about the rules regarding taking a patron home, but kept to himself when she explained that they knew each other out of the club and he wasn’t a member. The bag she had slung across her back was stuffed with all her costumes and accessories for the evening. Henry offered to hold it for her, she however refused.

“So,” he began, “are there anymore secrets between us?

“There still may be a few. I have to keep you on your toes.” She mused with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t get rid of the entire feminine mystique this early.”

“Truly, we can’t have that, can we?” He watch her carefully, wanting to learn how to read her face. She was kind, compassionate, intelligent, and evidently capable of beating someone to tears. The car pulled up, Elizabeth waved at the large bouncer, and they took off.

“I think I know what you want to ask, but are too polite to do so. No, I do not have sex on stage with the women I perform with. Do I make them orgasm, sure. Usually it is just with a large vibrator. We had found out Olivia can squirt recently and wanted to show off a little.”

“Olivia was your naughty vixen tonight.”

“Yeah, she’s cute, isn’t she. So eager too please too. She is getting married in two months too.” She chatted. “But, just like me, we do this to pay the bills. Liv is an incredibly hard worker, she’s studying to become a neurosurgeon.”

“Good for her.” He answered quietly.

She stopped, wishing that the silence between them was less awkward. She searched for his hand in the dark unsuccessfully. There was a lot going on in his mind.

“Maybe, you should go home to Kal, I’m sure he will miss you if you don’t come home tonight you will break his puppy heart.”

“He will, but he will also be fine. Are you okay? I want to apologize but I don’t know how to process this whole thing. I am furious at Jeremy, he had no right to try and fuck things up for us. I also wish I had known but how do you tell someone that you as just starting to see, ‘Hey, I get paid to beat people.’ There isn’t a greeting card for that one. I don’t want you to mistake me being quiet as me not being alright with what you do. I’m just trying to absorb everything.”

“We’ve had a pretty terrible twenty four hours haven’t we?”

“We have, but maybe we got all of our bad luck out at once?”

“Maybe.” The car slowed down and stopped outside of an apartment building. “Do you still want to come up with me?”

Henry was already out of the car and coming around to open her door before she could finish the sentence. By the time they made it to the elevator he was kissing her neck. The entire ride up they were locked together, Elizabeth pinned to the wall by the massive man. The door chimed letting them off at her floor. She squirmed to try and have him put her down. He shook his head and squat down to pick up her bag, moving her to his shoulder, caveman style, hand on her butt. He only put her down at the door so she could let them in.

As soon as the door shut behind them, his hands were in the process of exploring the beautiful woman in front of him. Until he heard a loud meow. He broke off of their kiss and locked eyes with the biggest house cat he’s ever seen.

“You didn’t tell me you have a cat,” never taking his eyes off of the furry house guardian.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, that’s just Alistair. Like the Dragon Age character.” Elizabeth reached out and proceeded to rub cat behind her ears. “He usually meets me at the door, like a dog only smaller.”

“What the actual fuck, that creature is enormous. Where did you find him?”

“I got him as a kitten at a shelter. They didn’t think he’d get this big, but he’ll keep getting bigger until he’s about two.” The silver and black long haired tabby purred loudly. The woman and the cat briefly touched noses, “He’s my baby boy, I’m just little lady with a giant hairy pussy.”

“A dad joke, right now?” he chuckled. “I think you are the one that deserves a spanking for that, Mistress Bettie.”

“You promise?” Elizabeth bit her lower lip seductively, grabbed Henry’s hand and lead him to her bedroom. “I’ll give you the tour in the morning.”

Her room was surprisingly normal compared to what he was expecting. The bed had an inviting fluffy comforter on it that was dark blue with tiny stars all across the top and a fuzzy underside. It was going to be like sleeping under a teddy bear. There were no accessories in the room that suggested its owner had interesting tastes. Her headboard didn’t even look like someone could be tied to it. They locked lips again and Elizabeth started undressing herself. Her casual outfit they came to her home in was thrown to the side, he started stripping his suit but she stopped him after his coat came off. He kissed her neck lustily as he ran his hands down her torso.

She pulled back from him for a moment, then Elizabeth sat down on the bench at the foot of her bed, exposed except for the knee high socks she had been wearing under her boots.

“Henry, last night you seemed pretty excited about the idea of us.” He walked up to her, she started toying with his belt while looking up at him.

“I still am, in every possible way.” His voice was husky again, he gasped as her hands caressed him through the black fabric of his pants.

“Show me how much you want me, handsome. No, not with this,” she said she fondled him, leaning forward she grazed her lips against his bulge, “Show me with those lips of yours.”

Henry knelt in front of her. She sat up pretty and proper with her legs crossed at the knees, leaning her weight on one hand. He ran his hands up from her ankles, kneading her calves with he strong hands. He never broke eye contact with her as he gently kissed her the shin closest to his face. He moved her legs with the dominance he usually shows his lovers. He kissed, licked and nibbled his way to the apex between her legs before starting over on her other leg. He then grabbed her hips with his large hands and pulled her towards his face. Henry planted delicate kisses around her sweet sex. Without a word, he licked her with the entirety of his broad tongue, then flicked her firmly on her love button. He licked, teased and worshiped the perfect pussy in front of him. Her moans were music to his ears, encouraging him to ravage her further. Her first orgasm he had to earn, Elizabeth didn’t cum easily. He was more than happy to work for it though. As he peaked her pleasure, she grabbed the espresso colored curls and  kept his head in one place, yelling out his name.

Henry looked up at her as the tremors subsided, kissing the inner part of her thigh, “What do you think? Can you tell how much I lust after you. I’ve wanted a taste since I’ve met you.”

He chuckled as all she could muster was an “uh huh.”

“So, beautiful, what now?”  He asked, licking his lips.

“I want you to take the rest of your clothes off and lay on your back.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He replied with a wicked smile.

“You say that now, but you don’t what kind of trouble that will get you into.” she cooed at him. Henry obliged her, slowly removing the rest of his suit.  She sat between his legs after he got on the bed with her. “One day, I promise that I will give you the most earth shattering blowjob you have ever had.”

“Oh yeah?” He mused at her. She started teasing him, having her fingers dance up and down his magnificent manhood.

“Yes, however, I am feeling very selfish tonight.” She rubbed little circles with the precum along the tip. He shifted and inhaled sharply. She swings a leg over him and positioned herself above him, good God was he girthy. “I don’t even know if you’ll fit inside.”

She slid down his length with a throaty moan. She started to ride him, grinding herself against him. They begin to thrust and rock together, Henry losing himself to the pleasures of her body. He pulls her close to him, kissing her deeply to bring them closer. Her moans and whimpers drove him wild. She was the sex goddess of his wet dreams. Without warning, he pulled her hips off of him, and rolled Elizabeth onto her back. He held his weight on his elbows, holding her face with one of his hands. She ran her nails down his back, leaving deep red scratches. He thrust himself into her, losing the ridged control he worked so hard to maintain. Her eyes were tearing up, as soon as he saw, he stopped immediately.

“Oh god, am I hurting you?” he asked breathlessly.

“I’m okay, please don’t stop. Oh fuck, please, don’t stop.” She gasped. With her consent, he pounded himself into her. She arched herself against him in bliss. He felt the trembling start from her core. Eyes rolling back in her skull, her orgasm was sudden and forceful, pushing Henry into the abyss with her. He touched his forehead to hers, spilling himself deep inside of her. Elizabeth’s tears continued to flow freely.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It has been so long… so so long… since I have felt this good.”

Henry kissed her temple, “Don’t apologize, I lost my hold, you just feel so good. Damn, I thought I hurt you.”

He rolled over onto his back. He opened his arm up for her to snuggle up to him, resting her head on his chest, she ran her fingers through his chest hair. She shivered once coming down from her incredible high, causing her to giggle. She asked, teasing him a little, “So was it good for you?”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

“Stay with me tonight?” She asked, in that same small voice he heard that morning.

“Of course, my darling.” They drifted, peacefully,  to sleep in each other’s arms. 

[another-sonic-blog]

heey! Could we have some sonamy forces? Maybe Amy being a badass and making Sonic like ‘O_O’??? Thank you!

A strong Rose

SonAmy

2k

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It was one of those easy days for Sonic. After the long run, he softly made his way through the Resistance HQ's. The automatic doors opened and as he took some steps forward, he was bombarded with the liveliness of the place. The Resistance was a rusty place, it definitely needed remodeling but to the blue hedgehog, it gave a comfy atmosphere. It smelled like wet soil, one of Sonic's favorite smell, he even ran to places that were raining just to smell it and have the pleasure of it. He expected to be greeted by the other agents but it seemed like they were too busy to care that he was here. They ran to what it seemed to the Resistance's main room. As Sonic made his way through the halls, the agents bumped into him. They always apologized to him but they made sure to keep their eyes on the location.

Sonic had finally reached the Main Room where it got complicated to get in. The agents all pushed each other, standing on their tippy-toes to try and get a look at the immense computer that was placed right in the middle of the room.

"What is all of this fuzz about?"

Sonic looked at the Mobian next to him, a green wolf boy with glasses who seemed way too excited to be here.

"Captain has gone to a mission for the first time!" the green wolf's stayed stuck on the computer's screen, not noticing that the one next to him was no other than Sonic the Hedgehog. "I've only heard stories about how great of a fighter Ms.Rose was! I can't wait to see her in action-"

The green boy finally turned to look at the blue hedgehog and he gasps at the realization. One of his idols was standing right in front of him, the blue hedgehog was one of the reasons why he joined the Resistance, in the hope that he would see him one day.

And that day was today.

"Amy for sure is a skilled fighter but," Sonic said, he smiled at the green wolf. Although he didn't care for fame, it was fun to see other's reactions to him and it lowkey raised his ego. "What is she doing out there in the field? I thought she was always too busy to take on missions."

"Captain Rose said that this mission was too dangerous for any of us to take," the wolf boy said, looking around the room nervously. "And she couldn't contact anyone from Team Dark nor Silver and Blaze and you weren't here nor Knuckles so she decided to go by herself."

Sonic knew that Amy was strong and she could perfectly take care of herself. Nonetheless, there was always this feeling of uncertainty, he cares too much for her to give a blind eye on the situation. His eyes were now glued to the enormous computer screen. For now, it was only blue and the screen had the words 'connecting...' as if it was waiting for a transmission to start. The agents still pushed each other to try and get as many people inside as possible. However, all chatter and movement were stopped the moment they saw that the computer screen no longer showed the previous words. Now it was showing live footage.

"How are we seeing this?" Sonic asked again as he could perfectly see the pink hedgehog he missed so much showing up on the screen.

"Mr.Miles sent a small android to accompany Ms.Rose, it's recording live," the wolf, although he was very excited to see his idol, he also wanted to see the heroine in peace. Mentally he wished Sonic stopped asking questions and instead just enjoy the show along with him.

The blue hedgehog didn't know what was going on and actually, he didn't need it. The flying android allowed everyone to see live the adventure of Amy Rose through the gigantic computer screen displayed in the middle of the room.

With no further actions, Sonic just lay back and relaxed, waiting for Amy to display her abilities.

The screen showed the pink hedgehog walk towards an army of egg bots. Probably around 50 of them or so Sonic thought, maybe even more.

"I don't want to hurt any of you but ..." Amy's voice had deepened and her stance was strong. To Sonic this was unknown, he had never seen Amy look so ... strong. "But if you don't give me my friend back in three minutes ... I won't have an option."

The Eggbots didn't think about it for a second and they were fast to throw a metallic spear at Amy.

Sonic flinched instinctively, and he shook aa little. However, he was relieved and surprised to see that Amy very calmly only moved her head to the side to dodge the spear.

"Is that all you got?" Amy said. Instantly the agents in the Main Room all stare at the computer screen in awe.

"Come on! Shadow's Chaos Spears are better than that!"

Sonic didn't know what to be more surprised at. That there was a possibility that Shadow had thrown a Chaos Spear at Amy or that Amy thought that Shadow's Chaos Spears were weak.

As if to answer her question, all 50 robots threw metallic spears at the pink hedgehog at the same time. Amy was quick to pull out her hammer and with it, she ricocheted the spears back at the Eggbots one by one.

The Main Room of the Resistance was filled with excited screaming, cheers and applause as they watched their captain being a total badass. Sonic meanwhile, was remembering the day Amy let him carry her hammer. The famous Piko-Pink hammer wasn't heavy ... it was impossible to pick up. Sonic could only lift it a few centimeters of the ground once and that was it. Watching Amy move it so easily and with such a fast technique made Sonic ... sightly impressed, he had to admit that much.

He continued to watch the screen as saw Amy ran at full speed towards the Eggbots. She was fierce and fast, using the strength of her hammer she would destroy each robot that dared to stand in her way.

Amy threw her hammer and it landed directly in the Eggbot that was guarding Eggman's entrance to his base. She did a backflip as to dodge the spear attack of one the Eggbots and finished, she landed a kick that went right through the Eggbot's metallic inside.

Amy snapped her fingers and quick her hammer appeared in her hand again. The pink hedgehog destroyed everything in her way. She had such a unique technique and stance that he had only seen been accomplished by a very well trained black hedgehog.

The green wolf looked at with excitement at the computer screen in front of him and he controls the need to fanboy his platonic crush. He looked next to him and found something rather amusing. Sonic the Hedgehog was utterly impressed and he could tell by the way his green eyes opened more as each second passed by.

Sonic had always known that Amy was an extremely gifted fighter ... But holy Chaos she was utterly strong. He knew for sure that the pink hedgehog had done some training in the six months that he was gone running around the world. Her fighting style reminded him of Shadow and Sonic wonder if they had spent some time training together while he was gone.

He would be lying if he said that the thought alone didn't bother him. Sonic trusted the love Amy had for him but he also knew that the pink hedgehog could bring the best out of people ... and a certain black hedgehog may have liked that about her.

However, a certain sense of proudness filled the blue hedgehog's soul. Watching the Resistance's agents fanboy and fangirl about his favorite pink hedgehog, made his heart smile. He wanted to face them, point at the computer screen and tell everyone, 'Look at her! Isn't she so cool! That's my Amy Rose!"

Although he was too shy to ever say something like that out loud.

The android that Tails made to follow Amy had suddenly stopped as the pink hedgehog entered Eggman's base. As if they were watching a movie, the agents and Sonic were waiting for their Captain to come out victorious of her mission. However, panic began to overtake them as the computer screen showed Eggman's base lit up on fire, bombs after bombs were detonated. Sonic held his breath in as to stop himself from running and finding her.

"Come on Amy ... Get out."

A few more seconds passed until finally, the pink hedgehog came out of Eggman's base victorious. Carrying in her back, a very well known red echidna.

The Resistance exploded in cheering and screaming, clapping. Sonic couldn't stop feeling a great sense of peace and especially, happiness. He began to cheer as well, even if Amy wasn't able to hear him. Sonic went as far as to give the green wolf next to him a small hug, which took him by surprise.

That was Amy ... his Amy.

.

When Amy came back to the Resistance, she was greeted by cheers and applause from the other agents. Although she wasn't badly hurt, there were some cuts and wounds that she needed to take off. She was in the infirmary, where Knuckles was sleeping in his bed peacefully. He had gone to Eggman's base to retrieve one of the Chaos Emerald but he had run into trouble and Eggman captured him.

So, of course, she had to go and save his butt again.

Not like she minds.

She was putting a bandage around her right arm when suddenly, someone entered the infirmary.

It was her favorite blue hedgehog.

"Sonic! I wasn't expecting you to come here today," Amy said, still seating on the edge of her bed.

Sonic smiled as she walked towards her and took a seat next to her. "Yeah, I was passing by ... So, how are you?"

"I am good, I definitely had worse," Amy was still trying to tie a bandage around her arm and seeing her struggle, Sonic took over her task. She blushed a little seeing act so kindly towards her.

"I saw you on your mission today," Sonic said concentrating his sight into treating Amy's bandages.

The pink one looked at him, her blush getting redder by the second.

Sonic looked at Amy as he finished tying her bandage. "It was dangerous."

Amy felt a sense of guilt wash over her and disappointment came with it too. The last thing she wanted was to make Sonic worry about her-

"But it was really cool, too!"

As Sonic smiled, Amy's heart skipped a bit. "The way you use your hammer was so cool! The punches and kicks! The way you moved your way towards the entrance of Eggman's base was out of this world-"

For a second, Amy thought that she had died in that mission and she was now in heaven. The love of her life was not only taking care of her, but he was praising her as well. Like an excited child in a candy store, Sonic was listing all the thing he loved about Amy without realizing.

"You were so cool, amazing, fantastic and-"

"For Chaos ..."

Their moment was interrupted as they turned their attention to the red hurt echidna in front of them.

"Would you two just kiss already?"

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A/N: Here it is, this week's request! Sorry for the wait, I hope you like this!

I am working on the next prompt request already!

[stevenbasic]

I had just started to feel a little better. Takeoff was a success and we weren’t going to die. Melissa’s right hand was still on mine, now on my left thigh, holding it there to comfort me through liftoff. But she had since turned to look out the window - and had given me the chance to ogle her huge tits in profile...an opportunity I surreptitiously took. Lord god they seemed bigger every time I saw her. This fine morning, en route down south to our conference, she looked absolutely ready to burst out of her tight white top. I’d been outright staring at her chest for nearly a minute. 

"Everything looks so small from up here!" she marveled, gazing down at the disappearing cityscape as we climbed into the clouds.  Christ, her breasts were enormous. “I like small things, don’t you?” she asked as she casually arched her back, completely unaware that I was still absolutely goggling in wonderment at the bulge and projection of her giant breasts. 

Small? I mused, lost in the reverie of this private, furtive moment I was sharing with her knockers. There is -nothing- small about this overgrown girl…

Wait. Had she asked me a question?

“Uhhh…” I began. If she was expecting a reply, it didn’t seem to trouble her. 

“Everything is cuter when it’s smaller, right?” she quipped, still distracted by the view out the window as I continued to be captured by the view of her mind-blowing torso, “Like, kittens. Cats are cuter when they’re smaller, right? Just like little cars...super cute. Little tiny purses, carrots, brilliant little doctors...cute, cute, cute when they’re smaller.”

Wait what?

I tore my eyes off her chest just in time to avoid being caught as she quickly turned back to me, smiling with mischief. Jesus! Obviously she saw a reaction on my face that gave her pause. 

 “Oh, I’m sorry…!” she said with sudden concern, eyes going wide, “We really haven’t been able to talk, since Friday...are you okay?”

“Wh-what...what do you mean?”

“The...the ‘little doctor’ comment,” she began to explain with chagrin, “I was just trying to be funny…”

“Yeah thanks for reminding me,” I said, chuckling, recovering. It may sound weird but over the past couple days, since the ignominious measurement fiasco at the department store, I’d actually come to a certain peace about my height,or new lack thereof. I was not the (almost) 5’11” I thought I was. Somehow, since I last remember my height having been measured, I’d lost two inches...at least.

If I knew then, sitting in the plane, what I know now I would be mourning much more than a lost couple inches. Any sane person - especially a medical professional like myself - wouldn’t be going to a conference with their busty co-worker: they’d be rushing to get investigative testing. But the idea, the fact that I was 5’8” was beginning to bother me less. I was actually a little proud of myself, being so relaxed about it….what’s the big deal, right? I now realize, though, that my psyche had already been deeply changed, an early part of this whole process that’s brought me..here, to where I’m speaking to you today. I was just none the wiser.

“Really, everything’s fine, it’s normal,” I assured Melissa, fiddling with my seat belt and convincing myself I sounded brave and unperturbed, “these things happen when one gets older.”

“Omigod you are not old,” she howled, slapping my shoulder with her free hand, “you’re only…” Her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Uh…”

“...more than ten years older than you,” I said wryly. 

Is there a reason she’s still holding my hand?

She smiled, eyes glittering, inspecting me. “Yes, but…” she said, “Three inches though?? That’s...weird, right?”

”Well, sure. But the last time I measured my own height was probably, like, many years ago,” I said, hoping I was sounding calm, “so it’s happened slowly, over like five or ten y-“

“I dunno,” she interrupted, “I feel like you've definitely shr...gotten shorter just since I’ve known you.” She looked me over, up and down. “But maybe it’s more...me.”

”What do you mean?” I asked, as I noticed her adjust her bra over her left shoulder and then turn to look again, wistfully, out the window. 

“Oh, nothing…” she replied, “It’s just that with this new little growth spurt I’m having, maybe my perspective is…”

Just then, the tall, blond flight attendant showed up aside me. “You two look like you need some champagne,” she offered, lowering a tray of well-filled flutes down between us. 

“Oooo yes!” Melissa squealed as she turned back, smiling, to take a drink, releasing my hand. I took a glass as well.

After the stewardess had moved on, we clinked. 

“Cheers,” Melissa giggled.

After a brief pause, and a sip, she continued. “But, really, what about you, Dr. J?” Melissa asked, as she pivoted a bit more at the waist towards me, “You seemed scared the other day, when she told you that you were 5'8”. How are you feeling?”

She really wanted to talk about this, huh? ”Oh, u-uh...heheh..” I began, “I don’t know about “scared…” My mouth suddenly dry, I took another swig. “I mean, nobody liked to be told they’re sh-shorter than they think they are…”

“Especially a guy, right?” she added earnestly, ”it must be sort of...emasculating.” She bit her lower lip, as if eager for my answer. 

“Well, I was never a big macho guy so…” My voice trailed off, as I looked at Melissa. I was able to keep eye contact, for a bit, but I was slowly being struck by, well, her size. The physicality of it. She was taller than me, probably stronger than me, just all-around bigger than me. And suddenly, in that moment, I was becoming overwhelmed by the feeling of being...lesser. 

I glanced down, at my drink, into my lap. 

"Hey, c’mon, you never know,” she said, easily reading my reaction, “there may be some positives! Even if you do get even smaller.” She leaned into me, playfully bumping me with her right shoulder, giggling. 

“Positives?” I asked.

"Yes!” she continued, eagerly, “You heard the sales lady the other day. Girls all want shorter boys. It’s true, totally. It’s fashionable to be with a smaller guy, to be seen as a couple like that. People love size in women these days…” Almost imperceptibly, Melissa straightened in her seat. “That’s why you see so many women in the gym, getting big, bulking up,” she explained, “They want their big butts, big backs and shoulders and arms. It’s all to make their man look small.” 

It’s funny. I had heard this, other places. Read about it. “a-and...you?” I asked, hating immediately the prurient interest in my voice, “y-you go to the gym a lot?”

At that she laughed, and turned to look out the window again. I watched as, through her tight, long sleeve tee, her back muscles bulged, swelling against her top. I took the second to appreciate her muscularity, the dramatic “V” of her torso, fit shoulders tapering down to tiny waist. As I watched, her lats flexed, bulging further. It was subtle but also dramatic, this display of their obvious strength, more bulk than you might immediately think, looking at her. She was by no means “thick”; the musculature looked absolutely feminine and alluring. But was she doing it on purpose? Showing off a little?

“I do go to the gym a lot,” she mused, turning back towards me, “I’m lucky, I get big quick.”

“Y-you do, huh?” I answered dumbly.

“Yeah, I do,” she continued, “It’s all genetics. My father was some sort of athlete, I guess. When I was modelling I had to be careful. I was told I could be a bodybuilder. But...” At that, for some reason, she stopped herself. Almost like she was about to say too much. “But now I don’t have to worry.”

Ashamed at myself, I wanted to hear more...even at the risk of sounding too engrossed. “Y-you like that look?” I asked, “Getting...bigger?”

“I dunno,” she replied with a disarming smile, casually shrugging, “But like I said, It’s totally in, that look, big girls. My gym is almost all women now, most are the same. You don’t see guys as much.”

“R-really?”

“MMhm,” she answered, sipping her champagne, “Know why? It’s the thing, little skinny guys. No one wants a meathead these days. So, look on the bright side:  if you’re smaller, three inches, you’re just getting cuter. More attractive.”

“Oh stop it I’m married,” I reminded her, feeling myself both blush and recoil. My skin crawled, thinking of Sheryl, of where things had gotten between us.

“Well, she may not say it but I’m sure Sheryl likes it,” Melissa countered, “When they go out with their guy every girl wants to look fashionable.”

What was she doing? Painting a picture for me where my wife and I strolled into a restaurant, Sheryl towering over me by six inches with a huge smile on her face? Melissa knew how chilly things were in my marriage. What was she saying?

“And, anyway…” she continued, “maybe you’d like it, too, if you were a little smaller. If it just means everything else, everyone else looks bigger...”

“Wh-what?”

“C’mon...” she said, as a subtle waft of her perfume found its way up into me. Her voice had dropped. I noticed now that we had leaned in already, closer to one another like conspirators, and this just drew me in closer. “I mean, there are more and more guys on the internet every day who are really into that sorta thing. Guys being smaller....smaller than their girlfriend, smaller than their wife. Smaller than women in general.” She took another sip of her drink, waited for me to follow and take a sip of mine. “Some guys want to be a lot smaller than women,” she continued, cryptically, “It’s crazy..."

She looked at me. Raised her eyebrows. Regarded me.

“R-really..?”

"Yeah…” she replied, “I get messages you wouldn't believe..."

================================

Agh, okay. Finally. Thanks again everyone for your patience. This one was hard fought, and I’m afraid through all this they’ll still be slow to come. But hope you all enjoy-