#it just takes a while for them to admit it though

[sugxto]

brutalizer(s) - eddie/volt/reader

⋆syn: You decide to "challengers" your new boyfriends. It, uh, doesn't go as planned.

⋆wc: 3.3k

⋆cw: m/m/f threesome, light dom/sub undertones, erotic electrostimulation, some very very minor dacryphilia, spit sharing, choking.

⋆notes: takes place immediately after the love route, but can be read independently. g/n pronouns for reader, called "good girl" and afab genitalia. other e/v one shots.

⋆snippet:

“Thought you did something there, huh?” Eddie’s voice is low, it hits you somewhere deeper in your belly than it has before. The whiskey sours earlier certainly aren’t helping. “It’s cute, but, come on.”

Volt chuckles, his lips against Eddie’s cheek, and his white hot stare locks on to you too. “Very cute, indeed. Really, spark,” his lips curl into what you can only describe as something dastardly, “did you honestly think I don’t already know his lips better than my own?”

“We could do a Volt and Eddie sandwich.”

The corner of Volt’s smile twitches, and he turns to Eddie with raised brows, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. Eddie’s face is uncharacteristically pink, and he casts a knowing glance at Volt, and pushes himself off the bar. 

“Well, seeing as how we’re… closed for the evening,” Volt starts, his eyes traveling back to yours, “I think, something to that effect, can be arranged. Eddie?”

The ice that you’ve come to know in Eddie’s stare is gone, the new spark glittering in it instead. He looks more lively, more excited, more… confident?

“I… wouldn’t be opposed.” His eyes rake over your body, as if finally allowing himself to fully drink you in the same way he drinks his whiskey sours. “It’s been a while since I’ve been up to… enjoying myself.”

Oh, they’re serious. 

I mean, you were serious too, but, right now? Right after they’ve just, essentially, come back to life?

But, who were you to turn down a good time?

You clear your throat. “Uh, here? In the club?”

Eddie scoffs, because you already knew the answer. “Absolutely not. No sex in the bar, that’s the one rule.”

“It’s not really a rule -”

“Volt.”

“Fine, fine, not here. Not tonight, at least.”

“Volt -”

“We live upstairs, a flat sort of thing.” Volt holds out his hand to you, want apparent in his gaze. “Shall I lead us there?”

You take his hand, that same spark from the first night surging up your arm, and you feel a second hand, strong and rough, at the small of your back as you head up the stairs. 

You realize, when you get to the bedroom, that you’ve… never done this before. Two. At once? Separately? How… exactly does this work. 

A thought sparks in your memory, of a movie you watched with Sam, where a girl swindled the two boys interested in her to kiss each other, and ya know, that’s something you might be interested in seeing. 

You’re all in the bedroom now, both of them eyeing you, expectantly, though not hurriedly. You giggle nervously, holding your hands to your heart. 

“I’ve uh, never done this before,” you admit. “Maybe, can I kiss you? And we can go from there?”

“Of course, darling. Whatever you want,” Volt cocks his head in Eddie’s direction. “I’ve already had the pleasure, so why not give Eddie a taste, hm?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs. “Ignore him, he can’t help it.” He holds out his hand, and pulls you closer when you take it. “But, I wouldn’t say no.”

Eddie’s lips are different from Volt’s, more hesitant, but soft, and gentle as he learns your pace and the shape of your mouth. He tastes like a whiskey sour, and you just want to drink him down. 

Volt’s lips find your neck, and you notice he’s slipped off his shirt, and the air hums with the charge emanating off him. You lean into him, his strong arms, and Eddie pulls away to take off his own shirt as Volt smoothly whips off your dress. Eddie takes his turn at your neck, and the double dose of pleasure pulses like a current under your skin. 

You raise your hands, find their cheeks, and gently, oh so gently, you bring their lips towards each other, hoping they don’t notice it’s no longer you. You’ll only watch for a moment, you tell yourself, before you insert yourself back in. No one will be the wiser. As their lips touch, their eyes stay closed, and you step back to quietly sit on the edge of the bed. 

You watch their lips met with rapt attention, the ends of Volt’s hair sparking with each swipe of tongue you catch. Eddie’s teeth find the softness of Volt’s bottom lip, and a small sound escapes the back of your throat at the sight. 

You expected them to pull apart at the unexpected sound, to open their eyes and realize what they’d done (and, not a small part of you hoped, punish you for it).

So it’s a bit odd, you think, when their kiss deepens. When Volt’s large hand, his silver nails, find Eddie’s jaw, and swipe acros his stubble. When Eddie, in turn, half opens his eye, and a titanium stare finds you past Volt’s cheekbone.

Your heart hammers in your chest. This is either going to go better than you expected, or much, much worse for you.

You’re not sure which you’re hoping for more. 

Volt’s lips move to Eddie’s cheek, his jaw, exposing more of Eddie’s face to you - both his eyes, boring into yours. He’s barely hiding a smirk. 

“Thought you did something there, huh?” Eddie’s voice is low, it hits you somewhere deeper in your belly than it has before. The whiskey sours earlier certainly aren’t helping. “It’s cute, but, come on.”

Volt chuckles, his lips against Eddie’s cheek, and his white hot stare locks on to you too. “Very cute, indeed. Really, spark,” his lips curl into what you can only describe as something dastardly, “did you honestly think I don’t already know his lips better than my own?”

Oh.

Oh for amps sake. 

Because, actually, no. That thought hadn’t occurred to you. Why hadn’t that thought occurred to you? I mean, come on, there’s only one bed!

Your mouth goes dry, your jaw goes slack, your eyes zinging back and forth between pure white and pure steel. You’re caught. You’re so caught. 

“I, uh,” you start, but you’ve lost that bravado. “I never want to assume.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, Volt’s thumb rubbing over his bottom lip. He pecks it softly. “Right. How thoughtful.”

“This is what you were wanting, though, was it not, live wire?” Volt purrs as he extricates himself from Eddie’s side, taking a step towards you in a way that reminds of that tiger feeding you once saw at the zoo. Like a predator. Stalking. Possessive. 

Oh fuck, you think. You’ve just fed yourself to the tigers. 

Volt’s hands are on either side of the bed next to your hips. Caging you. You can feel the sparks from his hair, the charge in his skin. “You wanted all three of us to enjoy ourselves, yes?”

You nod, and you see a flash of his canine teeth as he smiles.

“Exactly. And we most certainly will. But,” his jagged eyebrows lift, “you thought you could have an upper hand. And, it absolutely delights me to say, you won’t be having that.”

Rough hands are on your shoulders, and you’re shoved down onto the bed, Eddie’s unruly coils dangling over you. 

“Eddie, where did you -” you breathe, but one of those calloused hands is on your throat, squeezing just enough to silence you. Eddie’s grey eyes have darkened. Hunger, you think, he’s hungry.

Familiar sparks singe your inner thighs, but you can't lift your head to see what else Volt is doing - you can only feel the currents under your skin as his fingers find the crotch of your panties, pulling them only a little. Eddie only watches your face, how your brows furrow at the teasing, your eyes pleading for something he can’t give. Your hand comes to his wrist, not pushing him away, but needing to touch him more. 

“Eddie,” you breathe, feeling the weight of his hand on your neck. “Eddie please -”

“Do I look like the one you should be talkin to?” His brows lift, his stare curious. “Ya know, I don’t even really think you’re in a position to be talkin, period. Volt?”

You feel the man in question hum over the cloth of your panties, already hot, and the literal electricity isn’t helping. “I think I can occupy them, if you can keep them quiet.”

Keep them quiet?? Your eyes widen, but Eddie only chuckles. “My pleasure.”

With limited movement, you’re only acutely aware of what Eddie does with his other hand, until you hear the zip of his fly, the rustle of fabric, and -

Oh, fuck. 

Eddie’s cock is gorgeous, veiny in a way that reminds you of the wires he adorns, the head already leaking with pre. You lick your lips, staring at just a few inches over your face, and god, Eddie’s not the only hungry one. 

“Fuuuck, Eddie,” you moan, bringing your hand up to try and touch it, but the hand around your throat moves faster, leaving its mark to grab at your wrist this time. 

Eddie tsks his tongue. “Not so fast, live wire. Volt wants me to keep you quiet.” His other hand finds your cheek, stroking softly. “So, open your mouth, hm?”

The heat between your legs is getting unbearable, and you whimper when you feel Volt move the scrap of fabric to the side. “Yes, Eddie,” you manage, opening wide and offering your tongue. 

His cock is so hot as it finds your mouth, the soft tip and drops of pre languishing over your tongue, you can’t stop your lips from wrapping around his length as he presses in further, further -

A zap to your clitoris makes your hips buck in surprise, and your eyes shoot open - you see nothing save Eddie’s balls above your nose, and another zap elicits a squeak from your full mouth. 

Volt’s laugh is feral, his breath burning on your thighs. “Liked that, my little spark? Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of charge for us.” His thumb presses almost delicately to your bud, making the smallest of circles, testing, learning. “Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.” His thumb dips lower, finding your entrance already wet, waiting. “I simply must have a taste.”

His tongue is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before - Ben-Hwa’s vibrations are incomparable to the literal electricity that is swiping over your lips, your hole, your clit - it’s mind-blowing. It’s explosive. Volt works you almost too expertly to be believed, and your brain short circuits when a finger slips inside. 

Eddie groans as he feels you moan around him, your hips wanting to buck, but one of Volt’s forearms keeps your hips pressed to the bed. You’re pinned, caged, at the whims of these two men, and it’s making you ache. 

Faster than you can remember happening before, your belly coils with tension, your climax growing completely outside your control. Volt feels it too, he must, because he devours you with fervor, two fingers moving at an impossible pace inside you. It builds and builds and -

You see sparks as you cum, as your hips fight against Volt’s hold, as you struggle for something solid to hold to. Your skin tingles, you’re absolutely buzzing, you’re a -

“Mm, live wire,” you hear Volt’s smile as he says it, and he presses a kiss to your clit - it makes your leg shake unconsciously. “You are just too fun.”

You whimper, your body jello, your focus on keeping Eddie’s cock inside your mouth, but you feel him retreat, and whimper again at the loss. 

Eddie strokes your cheek again, and you feel Volt climb onto the bed, sitting by your side. His touch slinks up your torso, the side of your breast, your bicep, trailing sparks the whole way. 

He hums contentedly. “Good girl for taking Eddie so well, he says, and you flush, and watch him glance up at Eddie, who's sitting back on his knees. “And good boy keeping them quiet, Eddie.”

Eddie’s sigh sounds a bit amused. “You haven’t said that shit in a while.”

“Well, I mean it.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie’s hands reach for the back of Volt’s neck, pulling him closer. “Lemme taste, yeah?”

Volt’s chuckle is cut off by Eddie’s tongue swiping over his lips before pushing inside his mouth, and god, what a sight for sore eyes. The men pull at each other, teeth clashing, and in your blissed out state, you can’t stop the moan that leaves your lips. 

Two sets of eyes stare down at you, two sets of lips curling into grins. “Oh, darling,” Volt purrs, “you want a taste too?”

You can only nod, and you will your body to lift yourself onto your elbows to meet them halfway. You watch them share a look, and your arms tremble. 

“Open, then.”

You cock your head. “What?”

“Open. Your mouth,” Volt repeats, and you do, tentatively. 

“Very good.” Volt turns back to Eddie, pulling his jaw with his thumb, and Eddie’s mouth drops for him. Volt positions his lips above him, and a line of spit trails from his lips onto Eddie’s waiting tongue. 

These men. These men were going to kill you. 

Eddie hums, and as he bends down to you, his hand trails down Volt’s stomach. You press your legs together, the anticipation sparking back inside you. Your nails claw at the sheets when Eddie hovers a few inches above your head, and you press your tongue even further out. The spit travels from his lips and lands, cold, on your tongue, and your legs twitch, your fists clench.

“Swallow,” Eddie says, voice thick and gruff with lust. 

You do. 

And they pounce. 

You’re dragged up the bed, two sets of hands pulling and pawing. Somehow your bra is off, your panties are gone, you hear their pants hit the floor, and the temperature raises as more skin is exposed. You find yourself propped against the pillows, your back against Eddie’s stomach, Volt stomachs against yours, utterly pressed between them. 

“Feel good, spark?” Volt says, his hand at your waist. “Your sandwich living up to expectations?”

You giggle, realizing this was, in fact, exactly what you’d asked for. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” Eddie grunts, his lips on your earlobe. 

“We do aim to please.” Volt squeezes your side, grinding his hips against you, his length hard, pressing insistently at where your thighs press together. 

“I’ll make sure to leave a -“ you gasp when Eddie’s teeth graze your neck, “a, fuck, glowing Breaker Box review.”

Volt’s grin is back to dastardly, and he grinds his hips harder against you. “Let’s ensure five stars, shall we?” 

His hand moves from your hip to your thigh, a spark running down your leg as he lifts it and throws it over his thigh. His cock is pressed against your stomach, and another pair of hands reach around to cup your breasts, and now Eddie’s cock slots between your cheeks. 

“Now, spark,” Volt’s voice is low, honeyed, and Eddie’s bites to your neck aren’t helping the buzz in your head. “Who do you want first?”

Best sandwich you’ve ever had. 

“I, I have to choose?” You mumble out, barely able to form a sentence as Volt’s eyes study your face. Eddie groans, pinching your nipple to elicit a gasp from your lips. 

“Mm, darling, we’ll work our way to not having to.” His fingers dance along your thigh, and Eddie’s cock slides along your skin. “Patience, for now, however. We wouldn’t want to break you on our first outing.”

Oh, but maybe you did. 

You swallow, the wires of your mind completely disconnected. “Volt, I, I can’t. I can’t choose.” How could you? Between two perfect, adoring, electrifying men, that wanted you more than the currents in their bodies? It wasn’t fair, surely. They were one, they were yours, but you couldn’t choose.

Volt’s lips turn to a pout, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “Oh, poor wire. Feeling frayed?” He tsks his tongue when you nod. “Alright, no more choosing tonight. Let us take care of you, hm? Just close your eyes.”

You do, and he again lifts your leg, granting full access to anyone wanting your hole. You ache, the air charged and your lips dripping with want. You feel both of them pull away from you slightly, no longer able to feel their lengths, and you whimper from the loss of -

An intrusion of your entrance makes you cry out in surprise, and slowly, terribly, intensely, you’re being filled, and it’s like a fire has been lit inside your cunt, under your skin, in your heart. It burns, deliciously, beautifully. You eyelids flutter when the cock bottoms out, and a familiar, rough hand is suddenly covering your eyes. 

“You,” Eddie groans in your ear, “you, fuck me, feel perfect, spark.” His breath is ragged, and you curse when he thrusts, once, twice. “Oh fuck, oh, baby.” He says it reverently, lovingly. Your heart is going to burst out of your chest. 

A new hand finds your nipple, a zap bringing it to attention. “How does he feel, our spark? Doesn't his cock feel like it’s going to split you in two?”

In another state of mind, you might want to linger on the implications of that question. But yes, in fact, as Eddie’s thrusts became more frantic, the possibility of you splitting at the center did seem more likely. If Volt holding up your leg was the only thing centering yourself. 

Just as soon as you feel your climax building inside you, you’re empty, Eddie sliding out of you, and you grip around nothing, moaning at the emptiness. 

“No, no, Eddie, please!” You manage out before the hand on your eyes slips down to cover your mouth. The callouses on his hands are harsh against your lips, and you barely manage out a moan of protest before something new slips inside you, long and hot and slipping in so nicely. Moans of protest quickly turn to acceptance, and Volt’s cock is just so easy to accept. 

“Oh sweet amp.” Volt’s usually collected voice is shaky as he works his way inside you, taking his time much to your distress. “Live wire, I - we -”

“You,” Eddie breathes in your ear, “you might’ve been made for us.”

Ah. 

That’ll do it, then. 

You hardly even feel the build up, the spiringing coil, all you know if you’re cumming, you’re gushing without abandon on Volt’s cock, and tears spring to your eyes when they both curse, and Volt’s pace quickens. Eddie’s hand leaves your mouth, finding your neck again, controlling your air like he controls the very power of your home. Your body is slack, offering neither of them resistance, given over to the fire inside your belly, the weight of their hands, their control of your cunt. 

You feel Volt slip out, and now Eddie is back inside you. The tears spill over your cheeks, and an electric tongue licks them up. Almost as quickly as you adjust to Eddie, he’s gone, and Volt is back, then Eddie, then Volt, until you’re no longer cognizant of the difference. 

Eddie’s breath is erratic. “I’m, fuck, I -”

“Me too, darling,” Volt huffs. “Where -”

“S, stomach,” you moan. “Both, both, please.”

You’re on your back, your body liquid, but you open your eyes enough to watch their hands find each other’s lengths, pump once, twice, and then groan together as their cum lands on your skin, singeing like the flame of a candle. 

It’s a haze, what comes after. They’re kissing your cheeks, tucking your hair, singing what you guess are your praises in your ear. Volt’s voice is distant, but you hear how he calls you a good girl, while Eddie wipes away their spend with a towel from his discarded pants. 

You’re between them again when you return to earth, kisses peppered on your shoulder, tingles along your arms. It’s better than any dream, but somehow, you know it won’t disappear. 

“Back with us, spark?” Eddie whispers when your eyes flutter open. 

You smile softly, hum contentedly. “Always.”

“Very good,” Volt’s lips press to your collarbone. “You took everything beautifully, live wire. Our good girl. Our spark.”

You sigh, rolling onto your back, and find their cheeks with your hands. “You boys,” you smile, gaze flicking between them. “I love you.”

Steel meets white, then both meet you. “We love you too, little wire.”

[mayahours]

play fair

You melt into the night with Caleb and Zayne, where touches speak louder than words, and time slips away in the heat of a moment well spent.

18+ mdni! threesome. zayne and caleb make out with you at the same time, challengers style. fingering. blowjob. ass slapping. finger sucking. consent check in. reader is a creamer. bisexual calezayne.

give it a listen while reading!

“We always shared everything when we were kids,” Caleb murmurs, his arms braced against the doorframe, caging you between him and your other childhood friend. His voice is low, indulgent, laced with memory and a slow-burning heat. “Right, Zayne?”

The one with glasses gives a languid nod, a wry smile curving his lips. “Sure… though I’d say you always took the bigger share.”

Caleb’s chuckle is quiet, husky—a sound that slides beneath your skin, however, his eyes hold something darker now, something undone by time. Something starved. Something waiting.

“I was always a little selfish,” he admits, voice slipping into a low mumble as his gaze drifts to you. His eyes; dark brown, cold and consuming, pinning you in place. His breath is slow, deliberate, brushing the air between you like a whisper.

Zayne removes his glasses with quiet precision, slipping them into the pocket of his coat. His free hand lifts with unnerving gentleness, fingers grazing through your hair, tracing it like a line of poetry he’s read too many times.

Your breath catches. A flutter stirs deep in your belly, rising like smoke toward your chest, your skin tingling under the weight of their nearness. Zayne’s hand slides to the small of your back, palm warm, claiming.

“Don’t scare her now,” he murmurs, a grin ghosting his lips as he pulls you to him, so suddenly your palm lands against his chest. The thrum of his heartbeat pulses beneath your touch. “Play fair, Caleb.”

His tone is light, teasing, but his expression remains unreadable, a mask of intrigue and desire. He could be thinking anything.

Caleb steps closer, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling your hips close to the bulging in his trousers. His breath warms the curve of your neck.

“No, no—she’s staying.” Just his voice unravels you, sending a tremble through your chest, your heartbeat loud in your ears as your breaths come deep and slow.

“Ya not going anywhere, are ‘ya?” his words hum against your skin, and the sound settles into your bones. You lean into Zayne’s chest, eyes drifting back to Caleb, caught between them.

You take a breath, trying to process the moment. You’re sandwiched between your two childhood best friends. It’s way past midnight, and somehow, somewhere along the way while the three of you were separated, they’ve both become devastatingly hot.

You’re caught in a trance, lips parted, heart stumbling over its own symphony.

“No.”

That one word hangs heavy in the air, but not in resistance. Their expressions shift, darkening with desire, eyes burning with unspoken sustenance for the girl caught between them.

Caleb moves first. His slender fingers find your chin, tilting your face toward his, the world narrowing to the breath between your lips.

Zayne doesn’t move. He watches; his gaze heavy, possessive, patient.

Caleb's tongue, wet and desperate, slides between your lips. You await his entrance, slick muscles tango in mouths. His hand falls to the warm flush between your lower body, fingers hooking under your clothed cunt.

You push your ass against his body, your hips in a rhythm your lips cannot sing. Denim on fabric in secret harmony. Caleb's breath trembled into a moan into you, caught in consumption.

Zayne couldn’t bear to wait any longer, like a predator circling its prey, famine in his breath. The sight of you under Caleb's control ignited a fire within him, something that rushed through his veins and burned with desire. His fingers tangle in your hair, firm yet reverent, guiding you closer. Tilting his head, he brushes his lips against the edge of your jaw, each kiss deliberate, a promise drawn in heat.

Zayne’s lips; sweet with intention, but laced with dominance brush against yours, and a shiver rips down your spine. His hand finds your face, strong and unyielding, fingers cradling your jaw with a possessive grace.

In a single, silent claim, he tears you from Caleb’s orbit without so much as a glance back, like the decision was already made, and you were already his.

Then he kisses you. Not gently, not hesitantly; but with eagerness. Your taste drags a low, feral sound from his chest, a growl that rumbles against your lips as he deepens the kiss.

He’s not just kissing you, he’s consuming you, breathing you in like you're the only air he's ever needed.

Caleb’s eyes, glassy, low, dream-dazed, fixate on the sight of you tangled in Zayne’s grasp. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t move an inch, just watches as Zayne devours your mouth like he owns it, like he’s branding you in real time.

Without tearing his gaze away, Caleb’s foot reaches back, kicking the door shut with a quiet thud. The click of the lock follows, deliberate and final. His breathing deepens, rough at the edges, chest rising with each inhale as if the sight of you being taken brings something molten beneath his skin.

Caleb finds himself at the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into skin, making you feel intense rapture in both of their embrace. Your moans bubble into Zayne's mouth, and he groans in return.

"Good girl," Caleb breathes, his lips brushing your earlobe, warm breath spilling over your flesh. Heat blooms across your cheeks, glowing amber-bright, and your knees soften beneath the weight of his voice alone.

Zayne’s tongue, unapologetically, emitting spit into your mouth, saliva thick in viscosity. You find yourself crumpling the wool material of his coat inside your fists. Zayne guides you to the living room without once breaking the kiss, your lips far too intoxicating to part from.

Every step is laced with urgency, with need. Behind you, Caleb leans against the wall, watching in silence, his eyes like smoldering embers. His grin has turned wicked; something overly primal.

For a moment, Zayne pulls back just enough to look at you—really look at you. A delicate strand of saliva still connects your parted lips, glistening in the moonlight that spills softly through the windows. It catches in his eyes, just enough to reveal the faintest shade of green, and the shadows beneath them, faint bruises of exhaustion that only make him look more devastatingly handsome. Too many late nights at the hospital, no doubt.

Footsteps echo down the hallway; measured, deliberate. Caleb enters, silent and sure, moving behind you to press slow kisses to the curve of your shoulder. His fingers find your sleeve, coaxing it down your arm with practiced care.

“Is this okay?” Zayne asks, his gaze locked on yours, voice low, yet reassuring as you let yourself melt back into Caleb’s waiting chest. He catches you easily, one arm around your waist, the other hand threading into your hair, breathing you in like a drug.

“Need you both…” you murmur, just a breath, barely audible, but it’s enough.

More than enough. They hear it like a vow.

The three of you sink into the couch, the velvet cushions embracing you with a quiet kind of luxury. The softness beneath you draws a breath from your lips, a momentary lull, a calm before the storm.

You lean back, letting the plush give beneath you, and reach out with both hands, fingers curling around the backs of their necks. There’s a craving in the gesture, a need too deep for words. You draw them in, Zayne to your left, Caleb to your right, and they come willingly, caught in your gravity.

Your lips meet in the middle, a shared heat blooming between the three of you. The kiss is slow, decadent, a tangle of mouths and breath, where time seems to pause and the world stops its spinning. Hands slide, curious, devoted as the air thickens with want.

Three mouths crash together in a single, breathless kiss; chaotic, fevered, full of demand. Their hands move over you like you're something they've both been starving for. Zayne's calloused fingers find your neck, tracing your skin with a rough tenderness, thumb brushing the hollow of your throat like he wants to feel every stutter of your heartbeat. Caleb's hands are lower, gripping your hips hard, trying to keep you pressed tight against him, as if he needs your body molded to his just to stay grounded.

They're not gentle, they're hungry. And you? You let them take what they can get.

Caleb finds his fingers playing with the metal teeth of your jeans, he opens it just enough to show the lacey garment of your panties. He slid a hand inside, just above the fabric and your sweet nectar was already leaking through, warm—wet. Caleb teased at your opening just above the thin cloth, fingers barely touching your desperate skin.

You begin to buck your hips, meeting his palm with friction, while Zayne was busy wandering over your tits, cupping them with his large hands. You arch your back, the sensation is overwhelming, blinding in its intensity, unlike anything you've ever felt.

You're caught between them, entirely at their mercy, every touch setting your nerves alight. In their hands, you’re not just wanted, you’re claimed, handled like something precious and wicked all at once. A plaything, yes, but one they revere.

Caleb pulls away from the kiss the three of you melted into, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. His fingers drift across your forehead like smoke, slow and lingering, before tucking a silken strand of your hair behind your ear

“Need ya on your knees, sweetie.” He speaks, and all you can do is nod, the weight of his voice leaving no room for hesitation.

Your knees sink into the plush cushion of the couch, spine arching slightly as you look up at Zayne, silent, watchful, waiting for Caleb to make the first move. Caleb’s fingers graze your waist as he works your pants down with deliberate slowness, each inch a silent claim. Beside you, Zayne slides his coat from his shoulders, letting it fall without a word, the soft thud of fabric on the floor is a quiet promise of what’s to come.

“You’re gonna suck Zayne off while I have my way with ‘ya, m’kay?” Caleb’s lips graze your temple in a lingering kiss, soft as a whisper, while the chilly air in the room dances across your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. His hands are the only warmth you know, trailing over your bare flesh with a touch as he shifts behind you, slow and sure.

Your hands grip at Zayne’s waistband, fingers lingering the thick fabric that trace the length of his thighs. You pull them down, linen sliding off below his knees. Zayne swallows hard, a flush of crimson blooming across his cheeks as his hand rises to cradle your jaw. You lean into his touch, nuzzling softly into his palm, your eyes shimmering with longing as you gaze up at him.

“Okay.” You mumble against Zayne’s skin, the tip of his cock grazing your chin. You take the shaft in your hand, tugging on it, leaving a quiet harbor underneath his skin. Moans rise from the top of his diaphragm, breath shaky and desperate—he takes a handful of your hair in his grip.

Caleb’s lips caress at the nape of your neck, soft yet intoxicating. His hands reaches around your waist, body pressed against yours as he leans towards your ear. Caleb’s eyes fix on the figure that is Zayne, yet his voice is sharp and direct, each word meant for you alone—weighted, deliberate, impossible to ignore. “Just like that, baby.”

Caleb’s practically salivating, tongue licking the bottom of his lips before his palm lands on your gentle slope of skin, the sharp sting on your ass sending you wincing, teeth clenched.

“You’re doing so good already.” Zayne hushes you softly, his thumb tracing slow circles along your jaw as he presses a tender kiss to the crown of your head—warm, grounding, wordless in its affection.

“Isn’t she?” Caleb agrees, Caleb's lips follow a slow, trail down your clothed back, each kiss against the fabric. You falter, melting into the moment, arms folding softly over the cushion as your body leans into his warmth.

“Be gentle with her,” Zayne’s eyebrows furrow, cheeks still glowing as he tries to comfort you. “You’re too rough—”

“You’re just jealous.” Caleb cuts him off, snapping right back. “I think you need me to be rough with you too…” His voice deep, and rebellion sparks in his eyes—low, petrifying.

Zach’s eyes widened, nearly caught off guard. Making out with both of you at once was one thing—but did Caleb just say that? And even more surprising, did he actually seem to enjoy hearing it?

He turns his head away from Caleb’s hypnotizing gaze, about to say something, only to be interrupted by your lips around the throbbing head of his cock.

“Shit…” He looks down, watching as you enjoy yourself on his length. Your eyes closed—mouth watery, his shaft glides smoothly on your tongue.

Caleb on the other hand, presses his lips on your precious mound, his thumb sliding down your wet slick, making you moan around Zayne.

Before you know it, two slender fingers slide into your cunt, and you find your body rushed with pleasure. You want to speak with the ecstacy that flows through you, but your throat is full of Zayne’s cock, your words muffle.

Caleb’s fingers soak in white cream, thickening with each thrust. His lips part at the sight, huffing in palpable thirst. His hand slides from your ass and around your waist, reaching for the bud that has been begging to be touched. His thumb circles on your clit, fingers deepening inside you and gliding past that sweet spot that sends you in perfect abliss.

Every sensation from Caleb sends electricity through you, your eyes rolling back and your hips buck in harmony with his fingers—and each groan that arises from you meets Zayne with intense want curling in his core.

Zayne thrusts himself in your mouth, hitting the surface of your throat. Each moan that escapes his lips utterly consumes you, your pussy gushing in its wetness, your walls clenching around Caleb’s fingers.

Zayne grasps your face in his hands, his hold so strong it softens your jaw into submission. He positions himself firmly, slamming his hips into your mouth. You drool around his cock, saliva running down the floor like droplets.

Caleb gazes at Zayne taking control, the sight sending his cock in a throbbing mess underneath his trousers, begging for escape. He slides his fingers out, hand reaching out for the man before him.

“Taste.” Caleb commands, the length of his fingers covered in your juice—brushing along Zayne’s parted lips, mouth ajar and inviting.

Zayne follows, eyes dark with want, his tongue slipping out to chase the taste of you on Caleb's fingers. He pauses, gaze locked with Caleb's, a flicker of hesitation sparking between them, then he leans in, lips parting wider. He takes Caleb's fingers into his mouth, slow and deep, sucking them clean as he consumes you. .

Zayne pulls back, eyes glazed with raw need, breath shallow with desperation. Caleb doesn’t hesitate—he grabs him, pulling him into a kiss that crashes between them, all heat and hunger and something dangerously close to giving in, tasting your sweet cream in their kiss, melting in both of their tongues.

Caleb’s attention falls back on you, thumb still running in circles around your clit, his pace quickening. It’s a sensation you can’t describe, the pit in your stomach deepening into the unknown. Zayne’s cock begins to throb, your cheeks hollowing around him as you pull it out in a pop.

“Fuck—Caleb!” You cry out, your breath catching as your head presses into the cushions, hips arching instinctively as Caleb’s hand claims you with slow, aching enticement. His thumb fastens, pressing hard as he coos at you.

“Just like that, baby…” Zayne’s cock twitches in pleasure, your hand tightening around his shaft as you keep your momentum. He was near to his release, a wave of contractions rippled inside his stomach.

Beads of sweat fall at the side of your temples, you’re practically fucking yourself on Caleb’s hand, and the sight of Zayne reaching for his high has gotten you into an aroused mess.

“Don’t hold it in, angels.” Caleb lets out a tender coo, a slow smile blooming on his lips as he watches you and Zayne, completely undone in pleasure. A wave hits through your body, the sensation buzzing through your head.

You scream out, your hand gripping on Zayne’s cock, stroking it until his thighs quiver, a final shiver of delight lingering through him before he finally releases, his load leaking all around your hand. A deep groan bubbles from his throat, and the sight of him has Caleb ravening for more.

The man behind you takes his fingers in his mouth, tasting your high on his tongue. His grin appears once more, the sight of you and Zayne leaving him carnivorous.

“My turn.”

author's note: HAPPY PRIDE TO BISEXUAL CALEZAYNE!!! also i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did :3 i need them both tremendously bad.

also!!! challengers... zendaya... you will always be famous

read my new sylus fanfic here.

[kuidore]

MiRomAbby HCs 3 ✧ KPOP Demon Hunters ✧ Mira x Romance x Abby

✧ Mira doesn’t use real pet names, she calls them ‘Rom’ and ‘Abs’, because she thinks their ‘names’ are actually kinda cute. She also calls them dude. and a lot of swear words and colourful insults

✧ Romance uses pet names when they’re in public, and only calls them by their names when all together or he’s alone with one of them.

✧ His favourite one for Abby is ‘darling’, occasionally said in a really bad accent t that is supposed to be southern USA but does not sound like it

✧ He constantly switches the name he uses for Mira because he likes to see her roll her eyes as he progressively introduces more ridiculous ones

✧ he does pay attention to if she blushed or smiled though, and his deductions told him Mira’s favourite one to be called was ‘My love’

✧ He decides that is gonna go in the same category as names when he says it in public and immediately feels his toes being crushed

✧ Mira’s first reaction to embarrassment is often just mild violence

✧ Romance and Abby have gotten really good at dodging medium-sized projectiles

✧ Abby always uses their first names, sometimes he’ll use the basic ones pet names like baby or sweetie, but more often than not it’s just names

✧ when they first move in together, Mira gets stuck doing almost all the chores. She makes it two days before she starts just asking them if they can do the dishes or take out the trash

✧ by the end of the week Abby and Romance are still not doing it on their own and she’s getting to the end of her rope

✧ She tries to just stop doing them. But between them being men and demons, the mess doesn’t even bother them

✧ It absolutely was bothering her though

✧ When she literally watches Abby finish a drink and then just toss the cup in the sink without even rinsing it, she snaps at him. She yells for Romance to get his ass in the kitchen too so she can bitch them out at the same time

✧ It’s like a pair of dogs getting scolded, hunching down and looking up at her so as not to make direct eye contact and further provoke her aggression

✧ She crosses her arms and demands to know why she was being forced to essentially work as a maid in her own house. She even rhetorically asks if it’s just because she’s the chick, half expecting one of them to be stupid enough to answer with a yeah

✧ neither of them do. Neither of them answer at all, they only have to think about it for a second to realize she’s right; they don’t even really have an excuse for themselves, but they feel really bad about it (rightfully so)

✧ for once they don’t argue with her, they don’t try to push her buttons. they apologize and they spend the rest of the night cleaning the apartment on their own while Mira shuts herself in their room and goes to bed

✧ Abby and Romance take an extra long time cleaning, ralking about how they were gonna do things from now on

✧ they were gonna make sure Mira knew they weren’t pigs expecting her to tidy up after them like a mother, but partners wholly capable of doing all the responsible, adult human things they needed to

✧ They debate sleeping on the couches but decide against it. If Mira hadn’t wanted them to come to bed with her she probably would’ve made it clear as she was storming off.

✧ They were also kinda worried she was going to legitimately hate them about it

✧ She’s still got the lamp on, as if she had been at least trying to stay up waiting. She had been, but she wasn’t gonna admit it

✧ ‘it’ being that even after an argument, she slept better if she saw their faces before she did. Not a chance in hell she was telling them that, especially not tonight

✧ She was halfway asleep in the middle of the bed, just barely raising herself up when she heard the door open.

✧ She doesn’t even say anything, just waves them over and flops back against the pillows

✧ They climb right in on either side of her, Romance facing her and Abby with his chest pressed against her back

✧ Romance loses face privileges when he leans in and mumbles something about her waiting for them, earning a flick to the forehead and then Mira rolling over

✧ He pouts about it, resting his chin on her shoulder preparing to say something a little bit whiney, but Mira is already out like a light. He and Abby share a look and snickered.

✧ Romance likes facing Mira when he sleeps so he can hide himself in her neck and fall asleep engulfed by the scent of her hair.

✧ Abby prefers big spoon because he likes clinging to Mira’s back despite being easily double her size.

✧ His limbs were long enough that he could wrap them around the both of them, an arm settled across their waists and his leg hooked around theirs

✧ the next morning Abby wakes up early to make Mira breakfast and apologizes again

✧ Romance is still knocked out but basically the moment he was up, he adds his two cents into the ‘i’m sorry’ bank

✧ With a night of sleep, a full belly, and warm bodies on either side of her, Mira was a bit less angry. Only a bit.

✧ she was willing give them the *tiny* leeway that the demon realm didn’t exactly have chores

✧ She makes it clear if it ever happens again, she’s smashing all of their dishes and dumping them for real

✧ Mira is actually kind of impressed when she sees the apartment. They did in fact clean it, and they did a good job too.

✧ She has to literally bite her tongue to stop herself from making a smartass remark about how easy it must’ve been, but she does stop herself

✧ It never happens again because they never let her touch a dish or a cleaning instrument again. It’s their own little form of penance, a way to remind Mira that she wasn’t some housewife or maid or pretty trophy waiting at home with no life of her own, who always had time to be responsible for them.

✧ Every time she tried to clean something, one of them was behind her snatching the supplies out of her hand, kissing her on the cheek, and telling her to go sit down and relax

✧ She has to fight off the urge to be smug every time. She hates chores too, so it’s a double win. Mira has absolutely no issue with it, but it’s fun to pretend she does.

✧ At this point, she has no intention of even doing the cleaning when she picks up the supplies. But sometimes if she was bored, or they were off and busy doing their own thing somewhere in the house and she didn’t wanna go looking for attention, she’ll open the cupboard just to time how long it took for one of them to come speedwalking towards her

✧ Romance knows exactly what she’s doing, and usually puts the cleaning supplies away and drags her to cuddle with him.

✧ Mira grumbles and complains, pretending as if that wasn’t the entire thing she wanted

✧ Abby hasn’t figured it out yet, he still actually goes and cleans whatever Mira had pulled out the supplies for

✧ She’s not gonna be the one to tell him. She thinks it’s cute, and she definitely likes watching him do what she tells him even if it’s something as timy and stupid as washing the floor by the front door

✧ It’s a little bit of awakening, the type she’d been periodically catching sight of and purposefully ignoring because. hello, that’s so much energy.

✧ But from then on Mira starts asking they do more things for her. From going to pick up takeout to grabbing the remote that was literally five feet across the room from where she sat on the couch

✧ They did it all happily. they have a bit of a moment where they get giddy about how she never used to ask them to do anything for her and now they got to

✧ Behind her smug satisfaction, her heart races when she really thinks about how fast they jump up to answer even her smallest requests.

✧ They’d always done it when she really thought back, but Mira had just never really asked them often enough to notice the pattern

✧ Mira very quickly gets comfortable with asking for help, specifically from them.

✧ She’d still bite the curb before asking a stranger, though.

✧ She has one other nickname, for them as a duo, that she refused to use in front of them; ‘My boys’. she doesn’t wanna inflate their egos or deal with the teasing, so she exclusively uses it with Rumi and Zoey.

✧ Abby and Romance aren’t thrown off in the least by her tsundere shit, they know full well how much she likes them, and they really like finding ways to make her admit it to their faces.

✧ Mira still wasn’t sure if she loved or hated it

✧ One day they come back home from an errand run while she’s on the phone with Rumi and she doesn’t even notice them

✧ as soon as they hear her refer to them by that stupid name, the bastards started grinning at each other like they’d won the lottery

✧ She almost jumps out of her skin when they shut the door. She’s slowly turning around and really hoping they’d *just* stepped through the door.

✧ Mira sees their smug faces and she knows she’s done for

✧ She barely gets the chance to hang up on Rumi and take one step in her attempts to run away, before a pair of muscular arms are wrapping around her waist and halting her escape

✧ Mira can’t even stop herself from letting out a noise of surprise, half-assedly kicking her feet as she’s suddenly off solid ground and lifted over Abby’s right shoulder.

✧ She’s trying really hard not to laugh or smile, but she can feel her lips betraying her as she reached a long arm down and smacked Abby’s ass

✧ She was technically trying to get him to let her down, but if she was gonna be pointlessly hitting him anywhere… Two birds one stone!

✧ Romance laughs, and Abby does it right back to her.

✧ She could feel her face going bright red, stifling a laugh with her hand as she elbowed Abby in the general back area, she was’t aiming for much besides the ribcage. Mira hadn’t really thought the ass slap through enough either.

✧ She still thinks it was worth it though.

✧ Right before she’s tossed into the messy pile of bedding on their shared bed, Romance makes a comment about how she wasn’t getting away from her boys until morning. at the earliest.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve had this kind of stray puppy thing going on that Wayne was reluctant to give him a shovel talk. And he didn't even do anything! All he did was sat there with his perfect posture—straight back, hands politely folded on his lap, big earnest eyes, and calm breathing. He was all good-mannered and nervous smiles, which was both annoying and endearing.

Now, Wayne wouldn't call himself soft or lenient when it came to securing his nephew's happiness. But maybe, he'd mellowed out because of old age. Or maybe, he'd seen how Steve always brought out the best of Eddie, making him the kind of man that Wayne was proud of.

Either way, Wayne didn't have the heart to threaten Steve with something truly malicious, so he just skipped right over it and ended the talk with a well practiced stern look that made the Harrington boy cower just fine.

Later that night, when Eddie came home with a goofy, lovesick smile, Wayne couldn't help but ask, "Anyone given ya the talk, yet?"

"What talk?" Eddie plopped down beside him on the couch and took a long swig from the bottle of Guinness he'd just retrieved from the fridge. A metaphorical lightbulb went off above his head when Wayne gave him a raised brow. "Ah yes, The Talk. 'Course. I'd be offended if they didn't!"

Wayne hummed and continued nursing his lukewarm beer while watching the TV, ignoring Eddie's curious look that slowly turned mischievous.

"What? I just left you guys alone for fifteen minutes and you already adopted him?"

"He's your boyfriend, Ed, not some stray," Wayne responded gruffly, but Eddie could easily hear the exasperation in his flat tone.

"Jesus," Eddie cackled, slapping his knee as if he couldn't believe it. "You're worse than Hopper, old man!"

This time, Wayne just stopped pretending to not care and smirked at his nephew's nativity.

"Ya really think it took that man longer than me?"

Eddie paused and let out a gasp, eyes widening as realization dawned on him.

"He threatened to hunt me down if I dare to hurt Steve." Eddie slapped his forehead. "No way it'd take him months to adopt baby Steve on sight!"

Wayne nodded, not so smugly. "Now you're talkin'."

He'd eat his pickup truck if Hopper didn't also immediately yield under those puppy eyes. The Harrington might not be the best kind of people, but Wayne had to admit that their son was a sweet soul with a big heart. No thanks to them, of course.

"Anyway," Eddie smirked, nudging at his shoulder teasingly. "You're not distracting me from the fact that you consider Steve family now."

Wayne shrugged, unbothered. Family was family. He'd lived long enough to know it had nothing to do with blood relation.

"'Course, he's your boy."

And though neither of them said it aloud, they both agreed that Steve had been a Munson since the day he saved Eddie's life and continued to make it better with his presence alone.

"Thank you," Eddie said softly a moment later when they were about to go to bed.

The only good thing that came out of the whole 'earthquake' incident was their new apartment, which was afforded by the government's compensation money. And even so, if Wayne was allowed to choose again, he'd rather they still lived in their shoebox of a trailer than watch his nephew suffer from blatant PTSD that none of the kids were willing to talk about and this town's blind hatred.

"He makes you happy and you love him. That's what matters to me." Wayne shrugged, ignoring Eddie's blush and sputtering N– No, I'm not!

Before Eddie could try to argue against a moot point, the phone rang and he sprinted toward it to snatch the receiver up as if fearing it'd disappear otherwise.

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie said breathlessly, looking far too smitten for someone who'd just refused to admit he was in love.

Shaking his head, Wayne decided to leave his nephew be for now. The way he saw it, Eddie wouldn't be able to hold back for long. Not with someone like Steve Harrington.

[adoredvi]

TILL DEATH DO US APART

1x1x1x1 x GN!Reader

Vi notes: uhmm punctuations may be horrendous and there are some error in the process, because English is NOT my first language and I just made this for fun, so enjoy:>>

They say that love is the greatest thing that can happen to a being. And you agree— it is.

Growing up, you are taught that love is important, along with kindness, and being respectful to people around you. At first, you were defiant about it, you dislike how your parents constantly wanted to instill that mentality in you, and as you grow older, you kinda see the appeal in their words and what they wanted you to learn.

1x1x1x1, or 1x for short, always wondered what he went wrong whenever she tried to get him to notice them, it's frustrating, every attempt, every single time they tried, she always fails, hell she even tried to go and do what it takes for him to notice him, but alas— it always fails, it never worked anyway.

He feels so much hatred inside of him, it slowly builds up as time goes by— everytime he sees him paying attention to other's aside from her. He thought it was all going to be like that for the rest of their life, until you came in, you lit up their life, their darkening heart, you drove them mad with every little smile you flash their way, every little encouraging words that he thought he'll never hear again. She loved it, she loves you, even if they don't want to admit it out loud.

You noticed— of course you did, you always do, you seemed to have made a habit of being observant of their movements, behavior, even how he speaks— you just find him endearing, but was it really just that? You really don't know.

You don't know until you found out they suddenly disappeared. You asked and asked everywhere, even going as far as to asking his creator who only looked at you and turned away not wanting to break your sweet fragile heart.

He isn't the same person you know anymore.

She didn't get it, she didn't get why their creator sent him down to this hell hole, to his own personal hell, and there it is, the hatred— the emotion he buried deep. The emotion that they never wanted to come out ever again, they thought that it's not there anymore, you helped them didn't you?....

Or were you lying like he is too..?

He walked, stared and grew bored alone in that world, not a single living thing around her, even things started shifting— like her skin, it started darkening, their own body shifting differently from what they used to know, it was horrifying, but did he care anymore? No, he barely even felt anything aside from hatred. That feeling of need for revenge, for satisfaction of seeing those who wronged him fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness while she stare at them condescendingly.

But from amidst of these thoughts, you always come crawling back to their mind, her heart pounding painfully, they don't know if they even have that anymore but it somehow did whenever they remember you smile and the way you lit up the room around you.

They groan whenever that happens, they just want to keep you in arms reach, or in other words, in their arms, and keep you away from prying eyes where others can disgustingly lay their eyes on your illuminating self.

It was yet another day of being alone in this dark world, 1x is seen wondering around the place, they seemed to have memorized it already, it was the only thing he can do in such place really, so he has no choice anyway.

1x sighed in boredom, the whole area felt empty without your presence, even though they've been there for what seemed like eternity, she still haven't forgotten who you are.

And when it seemed like it was getting too boring, she was teleported in a deserted hallway, that was until— of course a flash of red ran past him, only stopping a few feet away from behind her, and coming back once more.

"Oh oh!! A new person!!!" It? He said with so much enthusiasm, jumping up and down before physically dragging her from the place he came running out of.

"Lookie guys!! A new person arrived!!" The little guy yelled as soon as he entered the room, the door practically forcing open with his entery, his voice carrying that of excitement, cutting off the chatter in the room.

1x grunted in disapproval and distaste, brushing the kid's hand off of her, before standing there with his arms crossed, looking all too observant to his surroundings.

That went on for hours, and of course, 1x got the information they wanted, why were they here, and where are they.

1x sighed, the noise echoing through the confined space if their room, their first match is tomorrow, already, he already knows his abilities so is it even a surprise her first match is just right after she came to this world? No. The Spectre doesn't either.

You were confused, you spawned in on a room— a cabin, right on the cold wooded floor, luckily, a few people saw you and Introduced themselves and explained where you are, thankfully.

You understand the concept, but you don't know why you're here to begin with, judging by what the survivors around you, some looked like they hadn't seen a better day— which kinda is true considering their situation.

They also told you about your supposed abilities, which were pretty surprising considering you are just pretty much a normal robloxian, there is nothing important about you whatsoever, but did you complain? No, you're already here anyway.

Meeting again isn't in both of your bucket list, but here you are, face to face with one another— the other bleeding, and the other staring them down with so much emotion mixed into one.

You never expected to see him again, but neither did she expect to see you again, but here you are, faced to face with one another.

The time is running out, all your other teammates were down and dead, leaving you last, but did 1x made an attempt to move? No, they didn't, instead? They surprised themselves and you. He hugged you, brought you into his arms in a tight hold, muttering things about how stupid you are for getting hurt.

It was their way of saying they care and they missed you, but you didn't speak about it and just leaned into her hold, you missed this, you missed her.

"Death can't separate us," you would mutter in the past while you hold them in your arms similar to what she was doing now. It always made them smile and sigh in relief whenever you mutter those lines.

And now, they seem to be the one to be saying that, although albeit, silently, their hold on you tightening in the slightest while the time runs out.

It seemed like even when obstacles keeps you both apart, you will find each other over and over again, even after death.

IM SORRY IF 1X SEEMS OOC IN THIS I'M BAD AT CHARACTERS PERSONALITY...and it's not the canon either, I think....I also got lazy at the end😣😣

[2000sangel]

What about tenna losing power during a thunderstorm? Or maybe being in pain from a severe power surge? I mean, it’s not like he has the modern conveniences built in of surge protectors, and it’s probably pretty scary to suddenly turn off/“faint” with no warning! Even if nothing happens, I imagine this would make tenna pretty scared of storms… a little comfort would go a long way I’m sure 💖💖💖💖

-✨

Hellow!! This was a very fun idea that I decided to make HCs for: I slightly tweaked the prompt though, and made it into general thunderstorm comfort HCs...power surges usually impact electronics quite badly and I have another request for something similar to the other idea you provided, sooo...winks, keep your eyes on my blog for updates °_^

And enjoy!! <3

P.S. - does anyone recognize this image that I used...? Eheh...

Tenna x Reader - Thunderstorm Comfort Headcanons

>It takes you a little by surprise when one stormy day, upon deciding to visit the Dark World, you find Tenna more nervous than usual; at the beginning he simply tries to brush it off, but as the storm picks up he becomes visibly more and more agitated until you finally connect the dots: Tenna is…afraid of thunderstorms, and not for stupid reasons! His Light World counterpart could very easily get damaged during one, and you actually recall it happening and having to call an electronics technician for repairs.

>You suggest willingly putting things on hold whenever a very heavy storm happens, it’s not like you really mind if he takes some time off, and he actually thanks you for this and ends up accepting your idea later down the line.

>This however doesn’t completely solve the issue; his shows might be under control, but he isn’t. He’s on edge the entire time, you can see it even though he tries to act like his usual eccentric self. So you bring up the idea of activities that only require a low amount of energy and to do them together, for example thinking up TV Time themes or playing board games.

>Tenna sounds immediately more excited upon hearing your ideas, and is glad that you’d be interested in helping with his show and just spending some chill time together; he’s a little flustered, even, that you’d consider doing all of this just to calm him down.

>Your visits end up becoming a must whenever the weather is even slightly bad, and over time Tenna becomes a little less jumpy whenever it happens. He stops worrying about what might happen so much and starts looking forward to the comfort of your presence instead; he even prepares everything himself when he notices the weather getting bad, hoping you show up every time. 

>When it eventually does happen that you don’t show up, an uneasy feeling settles in his chest until you can finally visit him and explain your reasoning: maybe you were outside, or maybe you got caught up in something or even in the storm itself, which is very understandable however it takes him a little while to shake the thoughts that you did it on purpose from his wicked head. 

>As he gets used to getting reassurance whenever you can’t physically be there for him, he eventually realizes that you’re not just going to up and leave, especially if something like a storm is going on. Storms actually kind of…help him in a sense: they help him build trust in your relationship, they help him take a much needed break once in a while…they help him connect better with you and with his subordinates, who secretly understand where his fear comes from and are willing to play those board games with him -he would never admit to the reason why he always suggests playing those during a storm, but it still makes for a fun time once in a while!-.

>You also change your habits a little back in the Light World, just for Tenna: whenever the forecast gives a storm warning, you hurry to shut off all of the lights and electronics in your house. More power and lives saved, you often joke with your friends when they ask you why you do it…! You also install surge protectors, as you guess that if something like that ever happened it’d be painful for Tenna. And then, if you don’t have anywhere extremely important to be, you warn everyone that you’ll be unavailable until the sky is clear again and run to your partner. 

[misspantymime]

Bat x Family ("A Family Meeting...Sort Of")

a/n: Once again, I forgot to update within the week. I'm ready for any punishment you have for me! Also, did the Batfam seem awkward? I usually don't right all of them together. (///￣ ￣///)

TW: Slight mention of starvation of children (no deaths though!)

Taglist: @c4xcocoa, @shinning-stars, @whognuthis, @dkddkdkdkdkdkdk, @nisarelle, @tree-ag, @welpthisisboringing, @sugary-strawberry-shortcake, @thatoneraeder, @celesteelysia, @scentedwombatarcade, @nxdxsworld, @lonely-entity, @jsprien213, @cocobally229, @kokazuu, @alishii, @misdollface, @charlenexoxo1, @wendee-go, @lunoorbonoor, @rainschnael, @punkandnerdy9, @mintynilla, @nervousalpacalady, @mallowryblog, @sirenetheblogger, @cupid73

Anya Forger! Child! Reader x Yandere! Platonic! Batfam

When Bruce called for a “family meeting”, Dick only had half an idea of what it was about.

More than likely, it had something to do with the trafficking bust that happened less than a week ago. The one that Jason seemed to fumble, despite his protests that the place had been cleared out before he even reached the location. Supposedly, the “product” had been left without food or water for an undisclosed amount of time before the GCPD had gotten a lead, but there had miraculously been no deaths.

That being said, Red Hood wasn’t the only one to drop the ball.

The breakout from Arkham had involved more major threats and the consensus had been that resources would be better allocated to that issue, above everything else. Or, to put more bluntly, the trafficking business, while urgent, just wasn’t to be prioritized at the moment. Which would eventually bite them in the butts later.

Through police contacts, the grapevine, and the ravenous media, Dick had heard less than stellar remarks on the poor handling of it all. Many papers and news outlets were questioning the lack of urgency from the GCPD and the Bats, seeing as some of the most vulnerable people of society’s lives had been put at stake yet appeared to not be on they’re radar. Not to mention the main perpetrators had slinked away unscathed.

So, if Bruce was going to ream them over the poor handling of the case, Dick was more than ready to take it on the chin. Even if the others weren’t.

Which is why when he reached the parlor, Dick was met, not unsurprisingly, with chaotic arguing.

“-admit it, Todd, you failed.” Damian’s resolute assertion was the first thing Dick heard but it was soon followed by–

“Listen, you damn demon brat, I told you already–” Jason was cut off, by Duke trying to placate them all.

“Look, guys, no one expected this, alright? You can’t blame him for that.”

“Incompetence doesn’t justify failure. It was in his territory, so it was his responsibility.” Damian argued just as Tim added his two cents.

“Yeah, but why are we all here, anyway? If he has something to say, he can just say it to Jay, right?” He groaned, rubbing his temple while nursing a cup of coffee. No steam, so they must have been at it for a while.

“Maybe he needs all hands on deck for it or something?” Steph chimed in, lounging on one of many seats, back leaning on one armrest while her legs hung over the other.

Cass simply observed the carnage from the side.

“Hey, hey, look we all messed up, alright?” Dick chided gently, with his trademarked golden boy smile as he stepped fully into the parlor, ”Let’s just see what Bruce wants, okay?”

Someone had to play peacemaker, since it looked like Duke was fighting for his life and Alfred was nowhere to be seen. 

“I hardly see where I–” Daminan started.

“Listen, we all could’ve done better,” Dick reiterated, “We’ll just hear him out and see how we can make this better.”

“I kind of doubt that’s possible” Barbara spoke up, on her laptop and scanning the various pages scrolling across the screen. “This is a bit of a–”

“Shitshow?” Jason prompted.

“Yes,” She sighed, before adding on, “No perps, and the place was, apparently, cleaned out before they got there. The GCPD is still scanning for anything, to be honest, but it’s not looking good.”

Barabara’s olive green eyes soon grew darker as she continued,

“Some of the kids were in critical condition.”

A hush fell over the room, smothering any irritation under a somber atmosphere. 

Just then, the door opened once again and Alfred, proper as ever, strolled in amidst the cold tension, seemingly none the wiser. If anything, the butler almost looked…amused?

“Master Wayne would like to apologize, but it seems he is…preoccupied at the moment.”

“The hell? He’s the one who called us” Jason grouched, flopping down on an armchair. 

 “Yes, but something of utmost importance has come to his attention.”

A sort of sharpness tinged the atmosphere, as they all tensed in anticipation. 

‘What could be so important?’, They all thought.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Bruce was not prepared for this.

He was not prepared for any of this.

 Bruce was ready to leave you to your show– a loud sort of spy cartoon? –but you had other plans, charging him as soon as the words “I have an errand to run” left his lips.

“An adventure!” You cried excitedly, latching onto his suit’s pant leg. “Lemme come!”

“Wha–? No, it’s an errand.” He repeated, trying to slip from your grasp. However, it proved to be far stronger than he expected, as you clung onto his leg even when he swung it to-and-fro rather inelegantly. 

‘I need to get to the cave with the others. Alfred can probably keep her away long enough for me to give them the rundown.’ Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I wanna go with Papa!” You cheered once again, your small hands leaving wrinkles in his pant leg.

“You’ll be bored” Bruce tried to reason with you, “Just stay and watch your show.”

‘She can’t get anywhere near the Batcave.’

And he failed. Spectacularly.

“No, no, no!” You exclaimed, climbing higher up his leg to cling off his waist, “I wanna be with Papa!”

‘This is illogical. Why is she so attached to me right when she got here?’  

You beamed up at him, shamelessly hanging off him like a juvenile monkey from a less than willing tree, “Please?”

“(Name)–” Bruce sighed again.

“Pretty please?” You emphasized in a drawn out whine.

While he was far from a master negotiator, Bruce fully believed he could hold his own in terms of brokering a deal. The social minefield of Gotham’s elite proved to be a formidable challenge time and time again, while the overt battleground of it’s underbelly remained default even for the most hardened of individuals. 

That being said, Bruce Wayne would not fold to a six year-old.

“Papa!”

He would not fold.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Dick stared at him.

Bruce stared past him, through the open doorway.

The parlor remained quiet, but the it’s inhabitants faces spoke volumes:

Alfred contained a chuckle behind a cough and his fist.

Tim raised an eyebrow over his cup of coffee, frozen just before taking a sip.

Jason, faced away from the door itself, did a double take upon shooting a glance over his shoulder. 

Duke’s face seemed to be caught between a gawking expression of shock and a nervous laugh.

Cass–stoic and steely eyed Cass– betrayed the slightest widening of her eyes.

Steph hid a bemused and bewildered sort of smirk behind her hand.

Damian looked aghast, bordering on disgusted.

And Barbara? She simply looked at him over the rim of her glasses.

All the while, you grinned quite triumphantly in his arms, balanced on his hip.

“Uh, B? You got a little–” Dick pointed and Bruce immediately cut him off.

“Yes, I know.” He asserted.

You grinned mischievously as a satisfied giggle escaped you.

“Everyone… this is (Name).”

a/n: Start of the Batfam shenanigans! Hope you stick around to see more! (´｡• ᵕ •｡) ♡

[equestria-cross-mod]

Very long vent/rant below the break (yes, another one). Also, go read Twin Runes, it's really good. Also also, bully me into reading the entire thing, because for some reason I can't seem to sit down and do that on my own.

And to clarify, this whole thing is directed at the anon who asked the question, not the person who answered the ask.

I was just scrolling through this blog since I enjoy the comic (though I really need to read the whole thing) and came across this post. If you know me, you know that I really don't like letting injustice stand without me saying or doing something, so here we go. Prepare for heavily restrained anger.

Akanemnon have stated that how people see them doesn't matter as much as how they make others feel. And they want them to feel positively. I can tell they're incredibly kind because of that.

I also empathize with them about this in particular, considering that, while I'm not popular, I do still struggle immensely with being social just in general. Especially publicly.

Now, here's the thing. I have a different approach to this sort of harassment they're experiencing here, which I've stated above. While I'm not as aware of the unspoken social rules that neurotypicals have, primarily because I'm autistic (among other things), some of the rules I do know are ones I don't agree with.

Now, to my point.

Anon? I didn't see the post being referenced here, but I don't think I need to. You're being ten times worse, anyhow. What you're doing is known as "guilt-tripping", and it's something I take huge issue with. You're also assuming the worst here, which tends to make you look like (excuse my language but I can't think of a better word) an asshole.

I know you'll never see this, and you know what? Fine. That's not why I'm writing this.

I'm writing this because I'm sick of people trying to make genuinely innocent people look bad. One mistake doesn't make you a bad person. Not even many. That probably just means you're stubborn or something, but not necessarily bad. Intentional and repetitive bad decisions make you a bad person.

That's what you're doing here, Anon. They made a mistake, and you decided to make them feel bad about it because you felt offended over something they said because they were stressed out.

If you were stressed out and said something dumb, I'll admit, I'd probably be a little offended too. That's not the problem. The fact that you acted on it in this way is the problem.

Everyone gets angry sometimes. Everyone can occasionally be unprofessional. But what you did was worse, because not only were you also unprofessional, but you did it intentionally. And that is unacceptable.

So many people on the internet just like you need to watch what you say, for various reasons, and to be considerate of other people. It doesn't matter if you can't be traced, those words still affect not only the people you direct them to, but also everyone else that sees them. I know that because I was affected.

And if people figured out it was you, which I don't think is entirely unheard of, they will treat you the same way. 95% guarantee.

Treat people how you want to be treated.

In this case, I'm trying to be as nice as my rage allows me to be while calling you out for being rude. As such, I also want people to tell me when I say something wrong or bad so I can correct myself, preferably in a manner that doesn't trigger bad memories to return to my mind and make me feel awful.

If your purpose was simply to ask for an apology, or to let them know that you were uncomfortable, then you need to learn to not insult them or make unreasonable assumptions in the process. You were lucky this time, but many people would've just ignored you. Telling you this from experience.

And if you do see this, just know that I do genuinely hope you learn how to address problems in your life better than this. Both minor and major. Despite how much I hate bad people (which I only think you're slightly bad since this is only one bad decision), I do want everyone to improve and become better people, no matter who they are. I often don't expect it though, considering... well, a lot of things. But I'm hoping this is a one-time thing for you.

Be better. Always strive to be better. Improve continuously, little by little. And if you don't know where or how to start or continue improving, ask someone you trust how you could do so.

Please add a trigger warning next time you threaten in your posts. I already feel you don't like neurodivergent individuals with the way you react to asks but that really unprofessional.

As a neurodivergent person myself, I apologize if that is how I came across. That was FAR from how I want to make anyone feel. Because it is simply not the case.

The threat was something I thought to be a throwaway line that I unfortunately did not think too deeply about in the moment of writing it. It was too far, and I recognize and do apologize for that. It came from a place of legit frustration as it feels like whatever I am trying to state is not paid attention to.

It is overwhelming, and I can not claim in any way that I am actually good at being a public person. I have stated before that having so many eyes on me is terrifying, as it causes me severe anxiety at times.

This position was handed to me by a weird twist of fate. And more often than not I question if I really even want it.

What I do want is to tell a story. One that gives people hope and makes them feel better. No matter who they are and what they might struggle with. I do want to be a good and supportive person. To ANYONE.

Again. I sincerely apologize for my harsh words. I do not wish to make anyone feel like I hate them or hold a grudge against them.

My frustrations got the better of me, and I should have acted accordingly.

[wisps-writes-fic]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Ship: Michael Robby Robinovitch x Jack Abbot

Prompt: What if Robby and Jack are not only work husbands but actually real husbands. Jack's ring isn't a keepsake for a dead spouse but his actual wedding ring for Robby. All just assumed. Something happens and we have the big reveal. What, how and why - you can decide!

~

Summary: Jack and Robby were both private individuals. It was no surprise their lives stayed hidden and their work stations stayed bare. Naturally finding a mini Robinovitch admitted to the ER one afternoon was an adorable surprise for the rest of the staff.

CW: Minor Injury

~~~~~

Victoria

The triage crowd was particularly brutal for no apparently reason and five hours into the shift, Victoria was ready to call it a day. An unfair moment of weakness, of course, while one of her attendings was seventeen hours into his double, but that was beside the point. “Patient name?” she heard a nurse ask from behind her, somehow managing to keep a warm smile in place.

"I need to talk with Dr. Abbot or Dr. Robinovitch as soon as possible.”

“Of course, ma’am. Our attendings will be happy to see you as soon as we can call your daughter back. If I could just have the information for her file.”

“My niece,” the woman corrected, sounding more impatient by the second. “Penelope Robinovitch.”

“Dr. Robby has a kid?” Victoria blurted. “I’m sorry, that was unprofessional. I’m Dr. Javadi. I can take you back now and we’ll page him if he isn’t on the floor.”

Walking them back to the nurses’ station she was efficient in finding an empty room for the girl and her aunt. “Perlah’s going to start with the basic vitals and assessment. I’m going to track down Dr. Robby for you.”

“Robby’s in trauma,” she heard just after the curtain shut. “What’s the case? I can step in.”

“Dr. Abbot. Actually, the woman who came in asked about you too. At check in. Did you know Dr. Robby has a kid? Penelope? She was just admitted.”

“Penny’s in one of our beds? Jesus, with what?” he barked.

She would take that reaction as a resounding yes. “Perlah’s doing the work up now. I brought her back when I heard the family relation. No paperwork yet.” 

“Go tell him what’s happening so he can see her when he’s done in trauma.” She nodded, lingering just long enough to hear him greet the pair waiting. “Hey, sweet girl," he said, voice softer than she'd ever heard it. "Show Daddy what’s hurting, yeah?”

Oh.

Oh.

Victoria smiled. This shift just got a little better. And a whole lot more interesting.

~~~~~

Robby

“Dr. Robby, I’ve got a four year old asking for you in central 2.”

“A four year old, or an adult with real questions?” he groused. “Cause I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“I know, but it’s Penny. Dr. Abbot’s already over there, but—”

“Stop babbling. What happened?” Javadi flinched at the harsh tone—the whole room did—but he wasn’t going to waste time apologizing.

“Pain in the arm from what I could see. Couldn’t put her coat all the way on before coming in, but it was wrapped around her enough I couldn’t assess swelling. Perlah and Dr. Abbot are with her. Her aunt too.”

He swallowed. The biggest house rule was no ED visits. His nephews could be rowdy, but they were usually careful if Penny got between them. “Give me five minutes.”

He was careful, of course, but efficient in finishing the sutures and disposing of his gloves and mask. A glance at the board over the nurses’ station told him the vague details. Name, age, minimized mobility in the right arm, no swelling. “Jack order an x-ray yet, Dana?”

“Just in case. Sounds more like nursemaid’s to me, though.”

“We’ll get the x-ray, then I’ll do the reduction if we don’t find a fracture.”

“Got it, Cap. Go see your girl.”

His final stop was the staff lounge to grab a popsicle from the freezer before joining his family. “I come bearing gifts. How’s my princess today?”

In the end, the scan came back clear. Collins took one look at their guilty faces and offered to be the bad guy, putting the ligament back in place. But then, no sane child could stay mad at Heather Collins for more than a moment. Clutching her second popsicle, she gave Robby and Jack both a sticky kiss on the cheek and skipped out of the ED hand in hand with her aunt.

“Like it never even happened,” Jack grumbled. “That’s a four year old for you. Alright, everybody, secret’s out. Now quit your staring and get back to your patients.”

The small crowd dispersed and Robby reached to squeeze his hand in passing, choosing to ignore Dana’s pointed smirk at the gesture.

~~~~~

AN: I headcanon after this happens Robby and Jack suddenly have like every single family photo they've taken taped up on/inside lockers, at their work space, lock screens, etc.

[sapphicides]

please write that nastylot meta if you feel so inclined!!! i’m a believer as well <3

i’m not sure how coherent or well-written this will be but i have SO many thoughts on their dynamic(s) so i’m gonna try my best to put them together

i think what makes nastylot so compelling to me is that all three of these women have been ostracized or outcasted in some way. either by society, their friends, their families, or some combination of all 3, misty, natalie, and lottie are all intimately familiar with what it means to be “othered.” this seems to bleed into all of their romantic relationships, as well, with lottie being the only main character without a canon love interest, misty’s multiple failed attempts at dating, and natalie’s inability to achieve stability with any of her partners

… which is why it makes perfect sense to me that these would be the three characters most open to polyamory out of anyone. lottie seems like the most obvious candidate for someone who would be into it— out of all three of them, i think she’s the one who craves togetherness and community the most. misty’s desperation is more evident in her drastic and, oftentimes, outright dangerous attempts to get people to pay attention to/like her, but, unlike lottie, misty never really stoops to the point of changing herself for anyone. instead, misty hovers around people like a lost puppy looking for its owner, hoping they’ll see her for what she’s worth if they only get to know her. lottie, on the other hand, takes the opposite approach, projecting an image of stability and leadership while hiding the parts of herself she’s been taught to hate (see: her mental illness)

misty and natalie both have something lottie wants desperately: the ability to be completely and utterly themselves. misty never changes for anyone, despite many people’s attempts at getting her to. natalie is similar in this way, maintaining her sense of morality no matter how bad shit gets in the wilderness + being one of the only survivors who openly admits that what happened to them was traumatizing despite the unspoken agreement to never acknowledge it. lottie, on the other hand, falls so deeply into this role of prophetess that she built in the wilderness that she maintains it into adulthood, creating an entire commune that surrounds her with worshippers so that she can feel connected to people after being isolated and ostracized in her youth, no matter how empty or fickle that connection is

the thing that sets lottie’s connections to misty and natalie apart, though, is that they’re based in the harshest parts of reality that the other survivors tend to look away from: the shared trauma, the innate understanding of one another’s desire for intimacy, and the knowledge that each of them are so fundamentally damaged that they will likely never receive it in anyone but each other. so of course lottie is the key here. she’s the one who proposes the idea of polyamory, likely positing it as a spiritual thing and asserting the importance of the collective (think about how she referred to shauna’s baby as “our baby;” how she acknowledged the wilderness as “just us;” how she’s often speaking in “we”s in both timelines)

misty may initially reject this— despite her desire for a romantic relationship, she’s very much a traditionalist in how she views romance. she has an idyllic perspective on what a relationship should look like, often falling into this dreamy fantasy and imposing unrealistic expectations on the guys she’s interested in. she convinces herself she’s dating ben because, in her mind, it’s a fun, thrilling teenage romance when, in actuality, it’s a nonexistent, one-sided relationship that would be extremely disturbing if it were ever to actually materialize. she even does this with walter, romanticizing him before realizing that he can’t provide her with the emotional support or understanding she actually needs. and i think she realizes this at some point in season 2, on the commune with natalie and lottie and the other remaining survivors who actually do understand her, and that’s when she opens herself more to the idea of polyamory

even though i can see her showing some hesitancy, much like lottie, misty also values the idea of community and would likely open herself up to polyamory more quickly than natalie. where i think natalie’s main issue lies, however, is not with her holding onto some vague idea of monogamy being the “right” way to have a relationship (she was a punk kid in the 90s, trust me she doesn’t give a fuck about that) but moreso with her own commitment issues. i think her issues with her father influenced her in such a way that she began associating emotional intimacy with her dad’s violent outbursts from a very early age. on top of this, her mother seems to have been emotionally distant up until she died, setting a bad example for her from the time she was a young girl that never corrected itself

she’s known to have a lot of hookups in high school and this seems to continue well into adulthood, but there’s a reason they tend to stay as hookups rather than full-on relationships. travis is the closest thing to a real relationship she had and that was far from stable— except for her dynamics with misty and lottie, which seem to not only mimic romantic relationships in the adult timeline (her and misty working together to solve travis’ death, her becoming lottie’s right-hand woman completely unintentionally and “adopting” lisa with lottie) but provide her that sense of stability she can never seem to associate with relationships in both timelines (misty and lottie protecting her from the others in the wilderness, misty and lottie saving her from herself as her addiction/mental health issues spiral in adulthood)

this is also something natalie realizes in season 2 while on the commune— think about how she was initially so wary of lottie, only to give her trust over to her completley. think about how she was initially confrontational with misty, only to be genuinely happy to see and involve her when she joins them. after a while, i think natalie would realize what a critical part of her healing journey letting go of her commitment issues is and ultimately allow herself to be loved and love both of these women; not just from a distance, but as an actual romantic partner

and that is precisely what makes nastylot the most feasible polyamorous relationship out of anyone imo. each one of these girls has something to gain from entering an established partnership with the others, and each of them have a unique, mutual dynamic with both of the others that makes the idea of them entering a relationship entirely believable. i love love love most polyjackets ships but what makes nastylot so compelling to me is its genuine canon basis that a lot of other ships just don’t have

but don’t get me wrong here: i can absolutely meta-ize just about any polyjackets ship involving the main cast. so if anyone has any requests… my ask box happens to be open hehe

[vxnillabxn]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ knight!caleb x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff, a biiiit of angst! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw (alcohol briefly mentioned)! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚this one has been in progress for a while !!! mind you, i have quite a lot of drafts, so i'll be posting as i correct them. but omg !! i just love this trope, lebbie is perfect for it. a man who yearns? yes, please ♡ ꒰ˆ◞⸝⸝◟ˆ ꒱੭ﾞ

he'd watch you for hours.

ever since you two were the same age, he'd watch from afar. when you were by the dining hall, learning which utensils to use first.

when you were gracefully learning to walk with a pile of books balanced on your head.

when the servants took your measurements, only for your skin to later carry the most luxurious fabrics.

he'd admire how breathtaking and regal you were. of course, as royalty, you had to be. it's not like you had much choice. but he's convinced that even if you weren't royalty, you'd still carry that same elegance and charm, the kind that draws everyone in.

he now stands by the floor-to-ceiling doors leading to the main salon, where you dance and quietly mingle, despite not having any fun. he remains upright, his posture firm, his gaze unwavering —always focused on your safety.

he's a loyal knight, after all.

but he sees it; the weariness in your expression, the way your smile never quite reaches your eyes.

he notices.

so when you finally slip away to the gardens, he must follow too. it is his duty. or at least, that's the excuse.

you notice. it's hard not to, when a bright pair of violet eyes are fixed on you with quiet intensity. and truth be told, it doesn't bother you.

maybe it's the wine.

you fan your warm face and glance at him, deliberately, your gaze soft and teasing. he stands straight, poised, unshakable, or so he tries to seem. your lips curl into a grin as you curtsey. he blushes. he quickly bows his head, eyes closed, before his gaze remains glued to the floor.

you cover your mouth to hide the giggle threatening to escape. a rather... interesting reaction from one of the strongest knights, you must admit.

the music still plays behind you: an upbeat mix of violins and a fast piano melody that keeps the nobles dancing. but you simply breathe in, savoring the sweet aroma of peonies and the nearby apple trees heavy with fresh produce.

he looks up when he hears your sigh, concern instantly flashing in his eyes. what could be troubling you? what could he possibly do to help? his hands twitch slightly at the thought, before he forces himself to remain composed.

he is a man who yearns, after all.

he wants nothing more than to fulfill his duty to protect you. or, well, the royal family. that's what he tells himself.

so when you extend your gloved hand toward him, eyes gleaming with mischief —though never with ill intent— and a soft grin playing on your lips...

he's stunned.

you're inviting him to dance. clearly, you'd rather do anything else than speak with another noble, so why not be a little bold?

he doesn't answer right away —not because he doesn't want to—, because for a moment, he truly believes he must be dreaming. but five minutes later, you're both tucked behind a tall wall of vines. you giggle quietly as he holds your waist with one hand and your delicate fingers with the other. he's elated. he feels like he's floating. therefore, he makes you float too, spinning you gently with ease.

it feels forbidden, but innocent enough. he's taking this dance seriously, though.

and as you try to muffle your laughter, he looks down at you with all the intensity he keeps locked behind armor. the tips of his ears are red.

he wishes he could draw emotions, that he could sketch the way your hand feels against his, the way your laugh echoes in his chest, the way your playful, mischievous eyes could convince him to burn down a kingdom. because then, he would be able to carry a book full of messy sketches of you and what you do to him.

after all... he is, in fact, just a man who yearns.

after the brief dance, duty calls. you must return to the salon. you curtsey once more, and disappear. he remains frozen. stunned. and now, more determined than ever. determined to protect you. to keep you safe. to preserve the playfulness you so freely gave him tonight, so it might happen again.

because he'll keep watching you for hours, and hours, and hours...

until one day, you start watching him back with the same longing.

[luciopioid]

Send Me Out

Diana of Themyscira x Fem(me)!Reader > 2,522K Words

tags: friends to lovers, dry humping, counter sex, comfort sex, reader is nervous, lesbian sex, just smut lowkey, reader has curly/coily hair

synopsis: Diana is representing Themyscira at a conference and she asks you of all people to accompany her. On her way to pick you up, you let nerves get the best of you.

You put your earrings on in the mirror, trying to ignore the prickling in your stomach. Diana was on her way and you still don’t know why she asked you to be her plus-one at a diplomatic conference, one of which she was representing her people of Themyscira. You knew it was important to her and there’s no use in passing up free drinks and time with your best friend, but surely one of her colleagues or sisters ought to have been a more acceptable choice. You check yourself frantically, wondering if your dress was appropriate. You pick your hair, attempting to fluff it out. You check your face, wondering if your makeup was too much– or too little. 

A knock at the door takes you out of your ruminating thoughts. As you walk towards the door, you take a quick moment to adjust yourself. When you open the door, you’re greeted with Diana in a fitted tuxedo, her long curls elegantly pulled back into a bun. Your stomach churns again, but for different reason this time. She immediately smiles upon seeing you, and before you know it, her arms are outstretched as she takes a step towards you for a hug. 

“It’s good to see you.” Diana says, her hands rubbing over your back. You breathe in her scent, earthy and sweet. 

She follows you inside, she stops and leans in the doorway of your bathroom while you go back to fixing yourself up. 

Diana crosses her arms, “Are you ready to go?” 

You check the time on your phone. 8:19. 

“I thought it didn’t start til 9?” You ask in a fruitless attempt to sound calm. You start moving faster, the last thing you wanted was making Diana late. 

“No, it does I just-” She pauses, cocking an eyebrow at your obvious anxiety that was practically emanating off of you. Diana speaks softly, “Hey…” 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, tilting her head to the side. She steps closer to you. 

“Nothing.” You croak, feigning normalcy, your voice betraying you instantly. Diana chuckles in response. 

“You’re frantic. And quiet.” She observes, her voice tentative. “I’m used to you ready to talk my ear off.” 

You pinch her arm, “Shut up.” Diana giggles, nudging you back. She moves closer, standing behind you in the mirror. 

“I’m serious though…” She pauses, “Are you nervous about tonight?” 

You sigh, your shoulders slumping. You meet her gaze reluctantly. “I’m not– it’s not–” You stammer, the words not finding you yet, knowing Diana was not going to let up anytime soon. She raises a skeptical eyebrow, her lips curling into a small smirk. “Oh really?” She asks tenaciously, not believing you one bit. “Are you sure?” She says, her voice still full with skepticism. 

“It’s just… It’s such an important event.” You explain, accepting defeat. “Important people from all over– I don’t even know what to say to them! I mean I’m happy to go, but surely one of your hero friends or something would have been…” You trail off, feeling a little bad about that last part. 

Her expression softens into something more understanding. She sighs ever so softly before speaking her next words carefully. “First of all,” She pauses, “You don’t have to say anything you wouldn’t normally say. Just be yourself.” You scoff. 

“Secondly,” Diana says, “I invited you because I trust you– a lot more than them.” She speaks earnestly. You meet her gaze in the mirror, her eyes never straying from you. You feel your stomach stir at her words. “It is important. That’s why I wanted you by my side.” You don’t respond at first. The moment is sweet and vulnerable, in her attempts to comfort you she admits that she trusts you, that she wants you to be there. Your nerves about the conference are replaced with something more unfamiliar. Something you’ve been trying to ignore. 

“What if I do something stupid?” You ask, tone only partially serious. 

Diana smiles amusedly. “Then don’t.” She retorts sarcastically. 

You let out a sigh, shaking your head in feigned exasperation. Diana is standing unruly close behind you, her body heat radiating against your back, causing a whirlwind of sensations to wash over you, your head spinning. Her previous comfort to you and mere presence making you dizzy. And the way she looks in a suit, well… it's not exactly helping matters either.

“Look at me.” She whispers, her voice clear and firm in your ear. She moves closer, if that was even possible, her gaze fixed on yours through the reflection. 

“I think you’re in your head…” Diana says softly. 

She pauses for a moment, taking in your expression, trying to get a read on you. “Look at yourself.” She adds. You watch her eyes roam over your face and over your body. You almost felt faint, not believing your predicament one bit.  “You look absolutely stunning.” Diana says, her voice lacking its usual sternness. “You’re sharp. You look good. And you’re more than capable.” 

You smile sheepishly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you…” 

She reaches a hand up and gently adjusts your curls for you, her touch tender. Careful. You feel a sense of comfort, yet there's also a cautiousness in the air. You realize this is probably the closest she has ever been to you, her presence both comforting and overwhelming in equal measure. Her eyes never left yours, focusing on your gaze and your gaze only through the mirror.  

In a delicate, almost ghost-like manner, Diana moves her hand from your hair to your hip, her fingers hovering just above your skin, not quite making contact. She lifts her gaze to meet yours, her eyes questioning, seeking approval, asking yours if they knew a boundary was getting crossed. Your stomach flutters involuntarily in response, a mix of anticipation and excitement coursing through you.

“Just stick by me tonight…” Diana whispers. Her hand finally making contact with your hip, her touch excruciatingly gentle. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll make sure of it.” She speaks, her voice low and soft in your ear. 

Your breath quickens involuntarily. Shit. 

There was no putting up a front now, Diana’s breath is warm against your neck and her hand is resting on your hip. You felt your heart practically beating out of your chest. Diana immediately notices your change in demeanor, the way your chest heaved ever so slightly. She doesn’t pull away though, instead she presses against you fully, the hand on your hip pulling you closer. You shift your head so that your neck is slightly exposed for her. For no reason…

Her grip on your hip tightens, her fingers dipping into your skin through the dress. She leans forward, her chin resting on your shoulder. Her voice a soft, airy whisper in your ear, “Relax… I’ve got you.”  

Diana could probably feel the tension in your body, the way you were trying to hold yourself together so firmly. 

“What is this, huh?” You whisper back.

On the contrary to your question, there’s a thick, underlying tension between the two of you. An unspoken amperage crackling in the air. A tension that’s familiar and new simultaneously. Familiar because of the history between you two, yet undiscovered. She leans closer, her free hand joining your other hip. Her voice is low, almost sinful in your ear. “You know exactly what it is.” She murmurs. You bite your bottom lip at her words, affecting you more than you intended. 

Diana senses that you are still tense, she lets out a soft sigh, tinged with a hint of frustration. "Relax," she repeats, her voice now firm and almost commanding. You release the breath you didn't realize you were holding, as your body eases against her touch. Almost instinctively. You can practically feel the warmth of her grin against your neck. 

You press back against her slightly and Diana’s breath hitches momentarily, a jolt of electricity running through you at the unexpected, yet not unwelcome sensation of your body against hers. She doesn’t pull away though, instead letting you press against her even more. Her arms snake around your waist and pull you closer. She looks at you through the mirror, her voice low and sultry in your ear. “Much better,” she whispers. 

Diana’s body is so warm against yours, her arms completely encircled around your waist. Her chest strong and flush against your back. She’s so close that you can hear her breathing and every faint sound she’s been making. You can smell her shampoo and the smell of her skin. Your head swims. It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming even. You struggle to think about much else but her, with you, right now. 

You whine softly. “God, Diana…” 

The use of her name breathless on your lips had clear effect on her. Her eyes fluttering shut as she lets out a shaky exhale only for you to hear. Her mask falters a bit, her fingers digging into your hips again. 

“Say it again. Say my name again.” She whispers, low and hot. 

“Make me.” You retort, wanting some of your control back. 

Diana's reaction is instantaneous, her grip on your hips tightening as she presses you against the bathroom counter. Her body entraps you, and you feel her hips jerk involuntarily against your ass, a natural reflex. She repeats her order, her voice thick with demand, "Again." The air is heavy with tension, as her tone leaves no room for argument. 

As you moan involuntarily at the sudden contact, your body happens to crave more of it. You resist the urge to give in just yet, teasing her with a breathy challenge. "Harder," you taunt, your face almost pressed against the cool surface of your bathroom mirror. "Like you mean it."

Diana barely contains a laugh at your audacity, but she has no time to waste on quips. Instead, she responds with a guttural moan, her hips moving with more deliberate purpose, grinding against you. She leans down, pressing her body against your back, her hand finding its way to your throat, gripping it firmly. She holds you there, her breath hot in your ear as she moans, for you and you alone. 

The sensations overwhelm you, and you surrender. To her. 

“Diana, baby. Please.” you plead, your voice thick with need and desire. You whine as she continues to grind against the curve of your ass, the clothed motion feeling so perverted yet so right. So intimate. Your head is spinning with need, and you gasp out, "More…" You whisper, voice desperate and ragged. 

She obeys without a second thought, her hand sliding up your side and finding your breast. She cups it and squeezes it firmly, her hips rocking against you with a little more haste. Diana moans, “Your ass… so perfect.” 

"Your body in this dress too," Diana moans, her voice thick with desire. "God, I've been thinking about doing this since the moment I walked in. " You gasp in response, the thought of her wanting you as much as you desire her sending waves of pleasure through you. You take the hand kneading at your tit and guide it to your clothed crotch. You hear Diana’s breath hitch once more. 

You keep her hand there firm in place as you grind against it, her fingers cupping over the outline of your pussy through your dress. You hold your hand over hers, wanting to feel the veins in her hand as your clothed clit rocked against her fingers. When you moved backwards you were still met with Diana’s eager, gyrating hips. The double sensations making you moan out wantonly. It being so much, but still feeling like not enough. You would ask for more, but you forgot the two of you had prior obligations, lost in the heat of the moment.

Diana peppers kisses along the side of your throat and face, soft and tender, her desire for you prevalent in every kiss. Her grip on your neck is firm as she holds you in place possessively. Her touch is a stark contrast to the eager motion of your body rutting against her hand and her hips that were practically slamming into you now. 

You felt a beam of heat coil in your gut, just needing a little more. And then some. You breathe out, throwing your head back against Diana’s chest.  

“I’m so close.” You gasp into a moan, your body becoming overwhelmingly aware of all the sensations she’s giving you. 

Diana’s gaze snaps up to look at you through the mirror, wanting to see your face when you cum for her. She runs her nose along your neck, her breath hot against your skin. “That’s right,” She whispers, her voice hoarse in your ear, “Let go for me.” 

She’s losing her composure herself, her own breathing becoming ragged as she intensifies her ministrations. You whimper shamelessly. She bites down on the shell of your ear as she murmurs, her voice thick with desire, "You're so beautiful. So good for me." Then, in a hushed tone, she confesses, "I want to hear those gorgeous sounds when you cum.”

Diana's gaze is burning in the mirror, her eyes locking onto yours as she grips your face and forces you to maintain eye contact. You’ve never seen her look at you like this before– her gaze is low and seductive, filled with pure need. 

You gasp as the orgasm washes over you, your body going rigid with pleasure. Diana continues kissing your neck, her words a sweet, incoherent mix of whispers and soft nothings. Her kiss is tender as you begin to tremble, and her body is there to support you against the counter. You slump against the surface, Diana's chest follows, hovering above you as her breathing intermingles with yours. The bathroom creating an echo of soft moans and ragged breaths, resonating in the empty space.

She moves the coils by your ear and whispers softly, “Can you stand?” 

After regaining composure you stand up and turn around to face Diana, leaning against the counter. Her eyes, once filled with a preyful spark, are now softer, more vulnerable. Her gaze flicks down to your lips and then back up to your eyes, a clear message dancing in her gaze.

"I really want to kiss you," Diana admits, and you don't hesitate closing the already small gap between you two. Diana doesn’t hesitate with deepening the kiss, her mouth captures your bottom lip, lewdly sucking it in and out, the kiss slow and sloppy, filled with words left unspoken. Your hands roam instinctively, grasping at each other, seeking contact, as soft whimpers escape both of you.

Diana pulls back from the kiss, albeit reluctantly. She proceeds to smooth out your dress and adjust your hair again, taking a silent responsibility for the disarray. You return the favor, fixing her collar and gently tucking any loose curls back into her bun. A shared sense of giddiness fills the air, and as you lock eyes once again, you can't help the joint saccharine smile that you two shared.

"Now, are you ready to go?"

[actuallyrandompersondaily]

"Why the fuck do I have so much stuff," Buck groaned, flopping down on his bed so that he could avoid looking at the unpacked boxes he was surrounded by. "I've been basically living with you and Chris for months now, I thought this had all migrated over already."

"There's a reason I suggested you just pack anything sentimental and then donate everything else," Eddie called from the lower level of the loft. "If you haven't used it in the past couple of months, you probably don't need to hang on to it."

Buck sighed, rolling over to bury his head in his pillow.

"But it's all sentimental to me," he said, voice muffled, before sitting up again and looking back into the mess that was his closet. "I just… didn't quite realising how many shirts I owned. And I still like most of them, even if I haven't worn them in a while."

Eddie laughed, voice moving closer.

"Do you need me to sort through your clothes as well, baby? I'm almost done with the DVDs."

"I feel like if I agree I'm going to end up only owning shirts that are at least half a size too small," he replied, raising an eyebrow at Eddie as he came up the stairs.

Eddie shrugged, unrepentant.

"Because that's so different to how you normally dress," he pointed out, voice dry, and Buck laughed.

"You aren't wrong," he admitted, reaching out and tugging Eddie closer via the belt loops on his jeans. "Would you? I can take over packing the downstairs, and I know our DVD collection as well as you do."

"Sure," Eddie replied, leaning down to kiss Buck gently. "Do you also want to order delivery? By the time it arrives we'll be due a break."

"Chinese?"

"If you want."

"Normal order?"

Eddie nodded, hand still threaded lightly through Buck's hair.

"Including Chris', we can take it home as leftovers."

"Of course," Buck replied, sounding as though that had never been in question, and Eddie grinned, pulling him in for another kiss.

"Love you," he said, pulling away, before nodding back towards the stairs. "Now get to work, or we'll never have you fully moved."

[bluem1ngs]

The sound of classical music

completely takes over the outdoor patio venue.

It was the post wedding party for his closest bud and his bride.

He twirls the glass in his palm and takes a sip, experiencing a scorching sensation in his throat.

He was on his third drink— at least that's what he thought.

With a sigh on his lips, he tugged at his tie, feeling as though it was choking him.

He first saw her at that moment.

He had met her a few years ago; having been in the same friend group, the two were later introduced to one another. He only ever saw her when he would attend an event held by those friends.

She was a sweet girl. Always hoping for the best for people she cared about.

She was beautiful.

She wore a yellow bridesmaid dress that took his breath away, and her hair was now a few shades darker and curled.

Her eyes met his, and she smiled— a soft, lovely smile— while waving at him.

She said something to her friends and then walked over to him.

She said, "Hey, Pedro," in a gentle and kind voice.

She looked at him with that gentleness & humane stare that had the power to make him fall to his knees.

He smiled modestly and said, "Hey, Esmeralda."

It was silent between the two for a moment, with only the sound of distant chatter.

"You look beautiful." he tells her with a serene look.

She looks at him, and softly smiles.

"Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself."

To this end, he grins even more, taking in her beauty for a moment.

"How have you been?" she asks him, keeping the conversation going.

"Good, just focusing on my career."

Asking her, "How about you?" he leaned against the stone pillar next to him and folded his arms over his chest.

She exhaled with a smile on her lips, "I've been fine... just living life."

That night, he looked at her, and it occurred to him how beautiful she was.

She asked him why he had that look on his face, as though he saw there was something on her face, like a crumb of cake or something. He assured her it was nothing with a simple shake of the head while grinning.

"Come on, let's go dance." as she lead him through the dance floor, she held his hand gently.

Smiling slightly, he admits to her, "I don't know how to dance."

With a mix of reverence and graciousness, she asked him, "Who does?"

Standing there, she gave him a gentle grin while wrapping her arms over his neck.

He wrapped his hands around her waist and they began to dance to the music, hand in hand, slowly, rhythmically.

At first, he stumbled, even stepping on her feet at some point. He gave her a remorseful look, ushering in an apology, but she only placed her finger against his lips to silence him.

He soon got the hang of it and focused on her.

Her yellow dress, elegant yet understated, accentuated her poise.

She looked past his shoulder, and she looked so beautiful there in his arms.

The way she moved. Her steps were confident, her laughter every time he spun her around, is subtle but genuine, and there was an ease about her that brought life within him.

At the sound of his voice, she looked up at him.

"You know, it's funny, I didn't plan to come to the after party.. but it's a good thing I did."

She smiles at him and asked, "Why?"

He stares directly into her eyes and said, with much devotion, "I wouldn't be here with you."

She bit her lip in a beautiful small smile and told him, “You're a sweet guy, Pedro."

She rested her head against his chest, and he felt his heart swell with love.

"Esme, may I kiss you?" he asked.

To this, she merely smiled and nodded her head.

He drew her in and placed his lips on hers. It was gradual, and delicate. As they kissed, the moonlight fell on their faces.

She slowly brings them apart, her eyelids fluttered half-closed as she relished the kiss.

He took in every nuance of her, as he twirled her around once more.

He understood then that she was the one meant for him.

[skyward-floored]

Swapped (interlude (part 7))

Next part of the Incredibles au swap fic lets gooooo. Checking in on what Sky’s doing! This one is a sort of break before the more dramatic ending chapters we’re getting to, so enjoy the moment of chill before things get crazy again lol.

People who voted on that poll ages ago for Sky to get a break... here you go XD

First | Previous | Next (coming soon)

————————————————————

Sky was supposed to be relaxing.

He looked up at his namesake, a cool breeze tousling his bangs, and sighed as some puffy clouds drifted by, trying not to think about what most of his extended family was doing. None of them had contacted him with any report of trouble, but they were all storming an illegal lab without him, stated several times to be dangerous, and Sky couldn’t help but worry.

And I could be helping them...

Sun looked over at him as she spread out a blanket on the grass, but Sky barely noticed, still staring up at the clouds. His thoughts were running rampant with things that might happen without him there, and it wasn’t until Sun came over and poked him that he snapped out of it.

“Link,” she said in a chiding voice.

He sighed. “I know, I know, I’m worrying. I just... I don’t know Zel, I feel bad about not helping,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “It just feels...”

“Weird?” she offered, and Sky sighed again as he nodded. “I know, I agree. But Time specifically said they’d contact us if they needed help. We’re the backup plan.”

Sky looked at her and smiled, reaching out to lightly tap her middle. “You mean I’m the backup plan. You’re carrying triplets and are not going anywhere.”

Sun scowled, and gave him a light swat. “I’m not due for a while yet, I could handle punching a few unethical scientists.”

“Yeah, I guess. So long as they were slow ones.”

Sun crossed her arms with a foul look, and Sky grinned, giving her an apologetic kiss.

“Sorry my love, you walked right into it.”

“Ha ha. I’ll consider forgiving you if you come sit and stop worrying,” she said, poking his nose. “We’re here to relax, remember?”

“Right, right... sorry.”

Sky let Sun take his hand in hers, and she pulled him over to the blanket, Aryll squealing as she ran through the grass nearby. Sky smiled as he watched her sit down next to the river nearby, easily in view of him and Sun, and began chirping hellos to the birds in the trees around her.

Sun sat down on the blanket she’d spread out, and Sky couldn’t help the way his thoughts drifted back to the rest of his family. He had no idea what they were doing, whether they were okay or not, if things were going well... Four was still so young, all of his nephews were, and he didn’t know—

“Sky.”

A hand squeezed his shoulder, and he drooped, looking guiltily at Sun.

“Hey. I’m worried too. But unless we need to worry about them, why don’t we do what we came here to do?” Sun said gently, and Sky exhaled.

“You wouldn’t think relaxing would be so hard,” he chuckled weakly, and Sun leaned on his shoulder.

“It can be. But that’s why we’re here, to just take it easy for a while,” she said with a smile, and sat back down. “We’re just here to sit by the water, or watch some clouds, or... pet ducks, like Aryll.”

“Is she really?” Sky asked, then gulped as he turned to look at her. Several large white birds were gathered around Aryll, their heads bobbing as they followed every move she made. They weren’t acting antagonistic, merely curious, and Sky heard Aryll giggle. “...Those are swans actually.”

Sun didn’t quite succeed in muffling her laugh. “Oh boy. Well, so long as she doesn’t take any home.”

“Please no, I don’t want a repeat of the geese incident,” Sky groaned, and Sun truly laughed that time, falling back on the grass.

“You looked so funny covered in all those feathers though. It was like you’d molted early.”

Sky huffed, joining her on the grass and setting his head on her lap when she sat up to lean against a tree. “Ha ha. You weren’t laughing so hard when we had to vacuum everything up, as I recall.”

Sun’s face turned cross, and Sky laughed, even when his wife plucked a dandelion and blew the seeds at his face.

Their laughter eventually faded, and Sky and Sun watched the clouds as they drifted by, the sound of the river behind them mixing with Aryll’s laughter. Sky’s eyes slipped closed as Sun began to play with his hair, and he breathed out a slow sigh, feeling calmer while he rested against her.

Sun was right. They were here to relax, and he would do his best to do that.

I used to be so good at just lazing around, he thought wryly, distant memories of being teased as a kid for having his head in the clouds drifting through his memory. Even as an adult Sky was known as being somewhat feather-headed, but ever since the island, relaxing had... not come easily. He did often find himself tired and wanting to sleep, possibly more so then he did before the island, but relaxing wasn’t the same as that.

It was just... hard to turn off his sense of danger.

It was better than it had been at least. When Sky had first come back, he could barely sleep at all despite his exhaustion, and found it nearly impossible to turn off his hyper-vigilant nerves. But even now he still found it hard to just... take it easy. Not worry about anything. Not have to constantly deal with life-or-death matters, and pay for a lapse in attention with his life.

But he was getting there. And despite how hard it had been spending over a year clinging desperately to survival, dealing with the fallout, relearning how to live normally again... making it to moments like this, his daughter’s laughter in the air while he laid next to his beautiful wife, her fingers gently playing with his hair... it had been worth it.

Every bit.

Sky hazarded a look up at Sun, still playing with his hair as she watched Aryll talk with the birds. The dappled sunlight that filtered through the tree made her hair glow, even pulled back like it was at the moment, and the few strands that had whisked loose of the style she’d pulled the rest of it into brushed her jaw when the breeze tickled them.

Sun must have felt his gaze, for she looked back at him, smiling as bright as her nickname as their eyes met. Neither of them said anything, but they didn’t need to.

Sky shifted his position to be able to look at her better, then glanced at Sun’s middle, feeling a rush of fondness as he gently set a hand on the raised part. He could feel a light kicking in there, and smiled as he felt the tiny movements.

“Have you thought more about names?” he asked as Sun let out an oof at the kicking, pausing to rub her middle before going back to idly braiding his hair.

“I was thinking maybe some that were related to each other would be nice,” she said with a hum. “Nothing overly theme-y, but just a little something.”

Sky hummed, and was quiet a moment as Sun kept braiding. “Well if they’re boys... how about Reddy, Will, and Abel?”

Sun paused. “...Why those?”

Sky couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. “So that whenever we agree to go somewhere, we can say that they’re ready, willing, and able.”

Sun groaned, and Sky cackled, still laughing when she poked him with her elbow.

“Time certainly passed on his dad jokes,” she snorted, and Sky smiled up at her.

“Yep, him and my Dad. Time’s have always been worse though.”

“That bad, huh?”

Sky nodded, chuckling as he thought back to some of Time’s worst jokes. “I know exactly where Wild got his love of puns from.”

Sun chuckled, and it was quiet between them again for a moment as she finished the braid. Sky heard a distant splash, and Aryll’s laughter rang through the air.

“You know, if there’s a boy... I was maybe thinking Crimson would be a nice name,” Sun suddenly spoke up, her voice soft. Sky looked at her in surprise.

“Really? Why?”

“Because of you, silly. Your hero name. And your father’s,” she said more quietly, and Sky felt his throat tighten rather suddenly.

“Oh. Yeah, that... that’s nice,” Sky whispered. He couldn’t quite get out what he wanted to say, but Sun understood, running her hand along his ear as she smiled.

Crimson Blade had been his father’s hero name, and Sky had taken the first part for his own in memory of him. The thought of also naming one of their kids after him wasn’t one he’d ever even thought of, but...

He liked it.

Sky took her hand in his, and she twined their fingers together, silence drifting between them for a moment.

“Do you have any more ideas?” Sky asked after he’d gotten more ahold of himself. “That’s only one out of three. Maybe if there’s a girl we can call her Songbird?”

“Might be a tad suspicious along with Crimson,” Sun replied with a smile. “If we really want a nod to it, then something like Lyric or Melody might be better.”

“Those are nice,” Sky agreed. “Oh hey, maybe if there’s a boy we can name him Link.”

Sun groaned dramatically. “Another one? Really?”

“It runs in the family, Zelda! We have to!”

She gave him a look. “Only if we can’t think of anything better. You know we don’t need more Links.”

Sky grinned, but he couldn’t help but think of the rest of his family again at the name. His smile faded, and Sun noticed, giving his hand a squeeze.

“You okay?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Yeah. I just wish we could help them,” Sky murmured, wishing he hadn’t been left behind, wishing he was there and fighting beside his family. Sun hummed thoughtfully, looking at the sky.

“Maybe we can.”

“Oh?” Sky said in interest, and Sun tapped her chin as she thought.

“Not in the fighting sense. But there are other ways to be helpful. Maybe we could go to Time and Malon’s place and get things ready for when they return,” she said. “Get medical supplies out, and make some dinner for them. And then whenever they all get back, they don’t have to do as much.”

Sky nodded eagerly in agreement, feeling a little burst of excitement. Finally, a way to help! “That’s a great idea. When do you want to go?”

Sun laughed. “Slow down, Link. Let’s enjoy things here first. Then we can go. We have plenty of time.”

Sky nodded, a little sheepishly, and they both relaxed again, silence drifting over them. An undercurrent of eagerness to help ran through him, but he did his best to set it aside for now, and properly relax.

They would help out, but first... they would rest.

Sky closed his eyes with a slow breath out. He breathed in again slowly, taking in the faint perfume of the flowers in the tree above them, and the grass and water in the breeze that brushed his face.

It really was a gorgeous afternoon.

Several quiet minutes went by, Sky lightly dozing, Sun still playing with his hair. A squeal and some louder footsteps eventually roused him though, and he opened his eyes to see Aryll charge up, her dress damp at the bottom, a grin on her face.

“Look!” Aryll said proudly, and Sky stared at the large frog in her muddy hands. “A heron showed me how to catch frogs, look look!”

“Wow, very nice,” Sky said with a smile, and he heard Sun muffle a laugh.

Aryll wiggled happily. “Watch this! If I do a— oops!”

The frog leapt out of her hands, and landed on Sky’s head, making him startle upwards. The frog went flying off of him as he straightened, and Sun yelped as it scrambled across her dress in its scramble to get away. Aryll shrieked happily as it leapt into the grass, and she ran after it as it hopped frantically away.

Sky wiped some mud off his head, Sun staring down at her now-damp and dirty clothes, and they met eyes.

“...On the other hand, maybe we should leave sooner,” Sun said, an exasperated smile twitching at her lips.

Sky just laughed.

[lyricalt]

PK2025: 23. "I've miss you" Kiss

Pridekisses - Prompt List 2025

TF2 - RED Sniper/RED Spy - rated: G

Note: sort of really really really unasked for follow up to touched the ocean, fell right in. (Post-confession, post relationship negotiation)

-----

At first, Spy assumes there won’t be much to get used to after that tense morning. He already finds Sniper affectionate enough in his reserved way. They’ve been slowly going down the slippery slope of trying to maintain a casual relationship for so long that Spy suspects they had fallen into doing the tortuous motions of a partnership anyway. Having an actual discussion only feels like a formality for a place they’ve already settled at for—weeks, maybe. Months. Spy doesn’t really recall his own turning point, what with this entire situation being a classic example of a pot of cold water being put to a slow boil, with two stupid frogs being none the wiser. 

He doesn’t realize just how much Sniper had been holding back. It’s embarrassing to admit, but Spy develops small prickling stabs of guilt whenever Sniper looks at him now with such uncomplicated fondness—there’s a difference that Spy hadn’t anticipated since Sniper no longer has to be discreet about it. And they are still discreet, even when alone, but Spy can feel how Sniper doesn’t question every gesture. A touch by the elbow, a light brush at the waist. Standing close enough without intruding. For a time, it makes Spy feel like there’s an immense imbalance between them.

And then there’s times like these; Spy is smoking a cigarette, sitting on the backstep of Sniper’s campervan after paying him a visit. It’s past midnight with enough time for the adrenaline and afterglow of sex to wear off. By all accounts, Sniper should have fallen asleep straight away, and Spy should have left a long time ago to unpack from his mission.

(But the night air is nice. His luggage can stay in the Bizzarini for now.)

Spy wears so many facades that pretending to not care or want so deeply is second nature. He might indulge every once in a while like this, show physical acts or say things that might toe the line, but he’d given Sniper too much credit to be able to withstand them with the same level of practiced resilience.

(He is, of course, not blaming Sniper for this. Spy should have realized much sooner, but that’s the double-edged sword of being so skilled at pretending.)

With a smokey exhale of resignation, Spy tosses the cigarette off and crushes it under his shoe. He stands up and heads back into the camper.

Sniper is dozing in the bunk, but he stirs awake at the sound of the door closing. 

“Changed your mind?” he mumbles, the flash of a blade disappearing back under his pillow when he sees that it’s Spy.

“Not quite,” Spy says; he had told Sniper he wanted to sleep in his own bed, which still remains true. Hours on the road do not deserve the uncomfortable sleep of being crowded and overheated in a van. 

Sniper remains laying in the bunk, staring at Spy with half his face still in the pillow. After a moment, he reaches out one long arm to beckon Spy over.

“C’mon then,” he says, voice rough with sleep. “Give us another kiss. Ain’t no bother.”

Spy approaches the bunk, letting Sniper snag at his sleeve to bring him even closer. He still feels a little ridiculous, uneasy by his own desires that he’s allowed to make obvious, but that feeling soon ebbs away when he tilts his head to Sniper’s mouth. 

“I’ve missed you,” Spy says, before he forgets to mention it.

“Yeah?” Sniper says, quietly laughing, as Spy deserves.

Sniper doesn't move, waiting for Spy to follow through, though it doesn't take long. Spy can feel him grin against his lips.

No more indulgences. Spy kisses him the way he wants.